Helena Halme: The Red King of Helsinki: Lies, Spies and Gymnastics

‘Sometimes, my beautiful educator of young Finnish minds, you not see who is best, eh?’ he told Leena. Sitting on the side of her desk, Vadi had looked Leena deep into her eyes and kissed her. ‘But me, I can!’

The glory it would bring the Lyceum, and Leena, was unimaginable. But if this was her reward for helping Vadi, the victory would be tinged with shame. Vadi and his daughter were a good cause. Leena would have helped them even if he didn’t occasionally share her bed.

Finishing her cigarette, she heard the girls’ prattle coming from the changing rooms. She had to go soon. Then she heard a sharp scream. Leena sighed and dropped her cigarette out of the small window high up on the wall. She tried to waft the smoke out into the cold air, but gave up. She’d lock the door and no one would know. She could always say Mr Kovtun had been smoking there.

At home Pia was greeted with the smell of cooking. She walked into the kitchen and saw her mother bent over a pot. She had rollers in her hair and was wearing a dressing gown.

‘What’s going on?’

‘Disaster!’ her mother said.

Pia could smell burning.

‘We’ve got a dinner guest! And the pork is ruined!’

Pia’s mother had an English boyfriend. Pia called him Admiral Jones. She’d forgotten what his real name was. He worked at some English library in the centre of town and Maija had met him at English language classes. She laughed when she told Pia the story. The Admiral was trying to explain the silent “k” in “knock” and “knife” when their eyes met. They’d sat for at least five minutes just gazing into each other’s eyes. The class around them shifted uncomfortably in their seats. Eventually someone in the back coughed and the Admiral returned to the front of the class. Afterwards he’d asked Pia’s mother out.

The doorbell rang.

‘Pia, please can you get that?’ Her mother hurried past Pia into the hall and then the lounge, which was really Maija’s bedroom, with a sofa that turned into a bed. She sat at her little dressing table, Grandmother’s old one, in the corner. She looked into the mirror, her eyes wide.

‘I need to do a couple of things,’ she said turning to look at Pia, smiling, ‘If it’s the Admiral, could you just push the door shut and sit him in the kitchen. I won’t be long.’

‘Ah, it’s the young lady of the house,’ the Admiral said, in English. Pia took a step back and let him into the long narrow corridor. Then she walked into the kitchen and said, ‘My mother won’t be a minute, you can wait here.’

The Admiral wore a tie and a navy blazer with gold buttons. He was really slim and tall, with black wavy hair, combed to one side of his head.

‘How was school today?’ The Admiral sat down at the table. He attempted Finnish this time. His silk tie was red with yellow spots, showing under the blazer. It was the middle of February and he didn’t look like he was wearing enough clothes for a winter evening. Pia and her mother had laughed about that; he always looked cold with red cheeks and ears.

Pia turned around at the door and looked at him, ‘Fine,’ she said.

‘You have many friends?’

From the kitchen window Pia saw it was snowing again. Large, flat flecks of white were slowly floating past and settling on the rooftop of the block on the other side of Kasarminkatu. She looked at the Admiral. Why was he interested in her all of a sudden?

‘No,’ she lied and went back to her bedroom.

During dinner the Admiral talked and talked in his funny Finnish, mixing in some English, and making bad jokes all the time. Pia looked at her mum, thin and beautiful in her black velvet dress. She didn’t look thirty-five at all. The Admiral kept asking Pia questions.

‘How are you doing at school? Top of your class?’

‘No,’ Pia said, trying not to look at his mouth. He was struggling with a piece of meat, burnt and overcooked to a pulp. It was dill stew, Pia’s absolute least favourite.

‘Is it a good school?’ he said, turning to Pia’s mother, his eyes on her cleavage.

Her mother made a little wriggle, showing him more of herself. Pia looked away.

‘Yes, it’s the best school in Helsinki, probably Finland,’ her mother said. ‘Would you like some more salad,’ she smiled and reached across Pia for the bowl.

‘Lot of Embassy people, yes?’ The Admiral had his eyes on Pia, ignoring the salad.

‘Yes,’ Pia said and wondered what’s it to him?

‘Hmm,’ he said and took the salad bowl out of her mother’s hand. Then smiling at her said, ‘This is wonderful food’ – he slipped into English – ‘darling Maija’.

The English flattery worked on mum. She blushed and bent her head down in a shy smile. Pia scraped the last of the meat off her plate and into her mouth.

‘How many years do you have left?’ the Admiral asked.

‘Just the two, she’s in lower sixth,’ her mother replied before Pia had a chance. It was as if she wasn’t in the room.

‘And there are only two classes, a very difficult school to get into!’ Pia’s mother continued.

‘Ah, very good,’ the Admiral said, smiling at Pia.

Pia had had enough.

‘I forgot to tell you, I’m going to be in a gymnastic competition!’ Pia said to her mother.

‘Really?’ Her mother looked at the Admiral’s full plate; he hadn’t eaten much of it at all.

‘Yeah, this Russian,’ Pia glanced at the Admiral, ‘I mean a man from the Soviet Union came to the school and announced it. Then I heard them talk about me – they’ve chosen me to take part! Even though I am good – I mean I am very good – Anni and Sasha are good too, so I was really surprised…’

The Admiral dropped his fork.

Pia’s mother moved her eyes from the Admiral to Pia. ‘Slow down – what did you say?’

Maija listened in silence as Pia told her the story of the gym teacher knowing this Soviet official, and how she’d – accidentally – overheard them discussing her.

‘I mean, it’s not absolutely sure yet. It’ll be announced tomorrow.’ She looked at her mother’s worried face. ‘It’s fantastic. You know how much I love gymnastics! This is a great chance.’

Maija smiled. She leant over the table and patted Pia’s hand, ‘Well done, good girl.’ But Pia knew she wasn’t happy, for some reason.

‘Who did you say this Soviet man was?’ the Admiral asked.

Pia hadn’t told them his name.

‘Kovtun, I think.’

The Admiral stared at her.

The Colonel gave Iain a long, severe look, ‘Collins, looking after civilians is a little different.’

‘Sir?’

They were sitting in the darkened Council building with only Iain’s desk lamp for light. Iain was behind his desk and the Colonel sat opposite him. It was past midnight. The city behind him was quiet. Even the trams had stopped running. In the semi-darkness his dull office had taken on a menacing air.

The Colonel shifted in his seat. ‘For one thing, you need to keep the girl’s mother out of this.’

‘Of course.’

‘I know you’re new to the Agency, but…’ the Colonel considered Iain for a fraction of a second and continued, ‘When you quiz Pia you need to make sure she doesn’t talk to her mother.’

‘How?’ It seemed impossible to control two people when you weren’t with them all the time. Did the Colonel want him to move in with the two women?

The Colonel stared at Iain for a moment too long. Iain felt he was being incredibly stupid.

‘For Goodness sake!’ the Colonel said under his breath. ‘OK, a young girl like that could be involved in anything. All you have to do is convince the mother that she’s gone a bit wayward. You become the mother’s confidant and supporter through the difficult times with her daughter. She doesn’t believe anything the daughter tells her and so forth.’