‘Mmm, I think so too,’ I said, peering into the bathroom. There was a shower over the bath. The toilet was outside, next to the laundry. ‘We could partition off the area next to the kitchen for Mutti.’
‘We’ll manage something until we find a bigger place, but do you think your mother can put up with it until then?’
‘She’ll have to,’ I said. ‘This place is a rare find, almost too good to be true. I think we’ll have to take it and work out the rest later.’
‘As long as you’re happy.’ He drew me into his arms and kissed me. ‘I’ll let them know that we’ll take it.’
The only problem with the house was that we had to buy just about everything. We needed beds to sleep on, furniture and household appliances. Thank God hire-purchase was popular; it meant we could put a deposit on the essentials we couldn’t do without, bring them home and pay them off in weekly instalments. It made me nervous to think of living like that, but Erich persuaded me that there was no other way. We had a steady income and with careful management through putting aside the money for rent and repayments each week, we would manage – just.
6
It was an incredible feeling to finally leave the hostel on a bright, sunny day in November, almost a year since arriving in Australia. I didn’t give the place a backward glance. We packed our belongings in the back of Franz’s car and a trailer we had rented for the day, and arrived at our new home full of hope and ready to begin the next chapter of our lives. It seemed a long time since any of us had been so excited.
Everything took longer to unpack and put away than I’d expected, even with the help of Franz, Claudia and the children. But with the girls asleep in their new beds, Erich and I finally collapsed into our armchairs, perusing the litter of half-unpacked boxes.
‘We did it,’ I said, grinning stupidly at him.
‘We did. We’re here and we’ve got so much done.’ He was clearly satisfied with the day’s work, though the black smudges beneath his eyes showed how exhausted he was.
‘But there’s still so much to do.’
‘Enough for one day.’ He stood and offered me his hand. ‘I know you’d keep going until you drop, but we have tomorrow to get it finished. All I want now is a real bed . . . I’ve got other things planned for us.’
‘Whatever do you mean?’ I looked at him innocently, batting my eyelashes before taking his hand.
‘You want sleep, do you?’ he whispered in my ear. ‘I’ll make sure you sleep like a baby.’ He led me to our bedroom.
‘Finally, a double bed.’ I stretched my limbs across the mattress and groaned, the crisp, fresh sheets crackling softly beneath me. I pulled Erich down. ‘It’s been over a year since we’ve slept in a proper bed.’
‘I think a christening’s in order.’ He ran his hands down the length of my torso, kissed my neck, then shuffled a little so our bodies were touching.
I wriggled against him ever so slightly, watching the effect on him, how the nearness of me still aroused him after twelve years of marriage. It made me want him all the more.
Then the world disappeared and there was just the two of us. I rode the crest of a wave, helpless to do anything but respond to Erich’s desire with my own. He kissed me with such intensity I thought I would dissolve into nothingness as we blessed the sanctity of our bed and the sanctuary of our home.
Afterwards, in a tangle of sheets and blankets, Erich turned to me with a bemused look on his face.
Concern shot through me. ‘What is it?’
He put his hand on my arm, still smouldering with heat. ‘No, it’s not you. That was wonderful.’ He kissed my bare shoulder. ‘I just had something I wanted to give you to mark the next stage of our life, but I got distracted.’
I laughed. ‘I thought you just gave me something . . . something special.’
‘Is it that time?’
I shook my head. ‘No, that’s not what I meant.’ As much as we both wanted another baby, we couldn’t risk it yet. We needed my income to manage and I couldn’t stay home to look after a baby until our circumstances improved. He smiled, and I could see he wasn’t sure whether to feel sad or relieved. Neither was I.
He smoothed the hair from my face. ‘I’m glad you think it was special but I was talking about something else, a promise I made you months ago. Wait here, I’ll be back in a moment.’
Cool air rushed to replace his warmth as I watched him leave the room, the line of his body still tall, taut and athletic. He really was a handsome man. His backside seemed iridescent in the dim light, white above his tanned legs. I liked the shape of it, the feel of it cupped in my hands . . . I lay down, my body sinking into the bed, my eyelids heavy with sleep, and let my thoughts drift.
Then he was by my side once more. ‘Don’t go to sleep yet.’
I opened my eyes to see him place a box wrapped in paper on the bed. He settled next to me, anticipation on his face. I carefully peeled the tape off and removed the paper so we could use it again. I gasped in disbelief and delight when I realised what was inside.
‘You didn’t!’
Erich grinned widely. ‘Pull it out and see what you think.’
I didn’t know who was more excited at this point, him or me.
I scrambled to open the box without ripping it then gently pulled out a hard brown leather camera case. I opened it to reveal a Kodak Retina IIIc.
‘It’s beautiful,’ I murmured, my fingers tracing the edges and mechanism of the camera, itching to use it immediately. I knew this model. It was a high-quality camera and one of the best Kodak made. It was smooth and easy to use, producing clear, sharp images, with features I knew I could do so much with. ‘You shouldn’t have. We really can’t afford it.’
‘I promised you I’d buy another camera as soon as I could and with you working in the studio now, you really need your own. Besides, this one’s as good as the Leica – so I’m told – but at a fraction of the cost. And I can pay it off.’ He looked very pleased with his surprise.
‘You’re right, this is a fabulous camera, one I would have bought myself.’
‘You like it, then?’
‘I love it!’ I squeezed his hand, blinking away tears. ‘How did you know what to get me?’
‘I spoke to Reinhardt and he told me which one was in our price range.’
‘My boss?’
‘Yes, on the way home from work one day, Franz and I slipped into the studio and spoke with him. You didn’t ever know we were there!’ He chuckled to himself.
‘Thank you.’ I threw my arms around his neck and kissed him soundly. ‘We’ll record all our special moments. I can’t wait to use it.’
‘I’m glad you like it,’ he said softly. ‘Now, I want nothing more than to collapse into this bed and sleep all night with you by my side.’
*
December was hot and with it came the terrible bushfires that were a normal part of Australian summers. This was a harsh land, and I was learning that its beauty was hard won.
Erich bought a fan to cool whatever room we occupied. Thank God we’d bought a refrigerator just before the scorching temperatures hit; our small ice box wouldn’t have been enough. The Kelvinator was my pride and joy, with plenty of shelf space and a freezer at the top. With a kitchen of my own, I was beside myself. I was finally able to cook our traditional Christmas sweets of gingerbread and stollen.
‘Make sure you roll the dough out to the right thickness,’ I said to Johanna.
‘I don’t think we can fit any more onto the tray,’ said Greta, looking dubiously at the shapes she’d cut from her piece of dough.
‘It’s all right,’ I said. ‘We’ll just have to wait for the ones in the oven to come out first.’ We’d decided to make extra for Claudia and her family as a surprise. I knew she struggled to be in the kitchen for any length of time with two little ones underfoot.
‘It’s so hot, Mutti,’ said Johanna. I smiled, thinking how in Germany they would be in cumbersome layers at this time of
year, not light and easy shorts and halter-neck tops.
‘I know,’ I said. ‘Especially since we have the oven on.’ We were all wilting with the heat but I was determined to continue this ritual, remembering the special times I’d had with my mother as a girl. Besides, I wanted my daughters to be proud of their heritage, to never forget it and to one day teach their own children.
‘Can we have an ice block?’ asked Greta, her brown eyes pleading.
‘You can have an ice block on the back step when this last batch goes in the oven.’ When it got too hot in the afternoons, I ran the bath and the girls sat and played in the cool water until they felt refreshed. I didn’t mind. It was peaceful when they were occupied.
Although we couldn’t afford much, I was determined to make the first Christmas in our own home in Australia special. Franz, Claudia and the children were coming, of course, and Tommy and Suzanne, our Australian neighbours, were going to join us for a Christmas drink. They were a delightful young couple who had been married for a year. Erich had also invited the family of one of the new men at work. Giovanni, Carmela and their five small children had just arrived from Malta and had no family to spend Christmas with. When Erich told me about them, I remembered our first Christmas very well. Everything had seemed so foreign and we missed family so much. Helping a fellow migrant family embodied the meaning of the season and it felt only right to invite them. I wondered what their children’s reactions would be at the sight of our Christmas.
I had decided to cook a goose, a luxury for us, as we could rarely afford to eat meat, and had found a continental butcher who sold the game, poultry and small goods we were used to in Germany. Giovanni and Carmela were bringing traditional Maltese pastries and Claudia had promised to bring champagne, as we hadn’t yet celebrated our new home. It was going to be wonderful.
The morning of Christmas Eve, after I had planned and organised the tasks I had to get done, I set aside time for the Christmas tree. This was something I couldn’t rush and it had to be just right. The base of the tree was resting in a bucket of water, secured with bricks so it stood straight. The base and bucket were covered in a white sheet, which looked like the snow of the northern hemisphere, the perfect place for the baby Jesus in his manger and the presents from Santa Claus. The pungent smell of pine leaves was already noticeable and I smiled. It wasn’t Christmas without the scent of pine. It never failed to get me into the spirit and reminded me of all the Christmases in Germany, the happy times spent with family. This was the first on our own but we were not alone and we had so much to be thankful for, so many blessings.
I carefully pulled out the packages containing the nativity scene I had brought with us from Germany. With trembling fingers, I unwrapped each parcel, but they hadn’t been broken with the moves. I was pleased to find that the painted figures and straw-covered barn looked as good as new.
‘Greta and Johanna! I’m ready to do the tree,’ I called. The girls were making Christmas cards in their bedroom.
‘Coming, Mutti,’ yelled Greta.
‘Here, let’s start with the glass decorations,’ I said when they joined me, handing them the coloured baubles. ‘Be careful now, because they’ll break.’
‘We know, Mutti,’ said Johanna with a very serious face.
They hung the balls and ornaments I still had from Germany around the tree, as well as a few I had bought at David Jones while in the city. I smiled, resisting the impulse to take over as I watched them reaching on tip-toes to place the ornaments as high as they could. Then we moved on to the candle holders and the long strands of silver tinsel. The girls were as excited as I was.
I took photographs of the girls and the tree with my new camera, putting it through its paces, working out how to best use its features and revelling in the freedom to take as many pictures as I liked, now I could get them developed cheaply at work. I rejoiced in how much pleasure photography gave me.
‘That looks beautiful,’ I said, standing back to admire their handiwork. ‘Now let’s put the manger under the tree.’
The girls knew that this was what made the Christmas tree special and reverently helped me position the nativity scene on the white sheet. Immediately, our new house felt like home.
‘It’s perfect, Mutti,’ said Greta, head tilted to one side and then the other.
‘You’ve both done a wonderful job,’ I said. I pulled them to me, hugging them tight and kissing them each on the cheek.
I discovered, however, that even keeping the candles for the tree in the fridge until we were ready to use them later that day didn’t stop them from bending in the heat. This is Australia after all, not Germany, I thought, the sight of the bowed red candles stopping me in my tracks as I hurried to place the final touches on the table before our guests arrived. I shrugged and left them; they were too much a part of our tradition to not use. The blazing of light around the tree at night was the essence of Christmas to me and I knew it was special for the girls.
The evening was delightful. The goose was cooked to perfection, the Maltese pastries, Christmas biscuits and stollen were a hit and the children’s faces as their eyes lit up at the sight of the presents they discovered under the Christmas tree made the adults smile. I took photographs all night to make sure our memories of the first Christmas in our own home in Australia were recorded for posterity.
‘Thank you, Erich and Lotte. We go now,’ said Giovanni, with two sleepy, dark-haired children in his arms. I smiled ruefully. They were going to midnight mass with all five children and I felt sure they would fall asleep in their parents’ arms long before the service was over.
‘We have good night,’ said Carmela in her broken English, kissing my hand, tears in her eyes.
Greta, Johanna and Anna were hugging the older children goodbye who clutched their gifts in their hands, sad to leave and their dark eyes still round with wonder. Whatever difficulties we thought we were experiencing, these children evidently thought this was paradise. I wondered what life they’d left behind in Malta and felt a renewed appreciation for what we had.
I kissed Carmela on her soft, smooth cheek. ‘Come and visit us again.’ I followed my children’s lead and hugged her. ‘Merry Christmas.’
All the children were in bed just before midnight, worn out from the excitement. Anna and Peter slept in our room and the twins lay on an eiderdown on the bedroom floor.
‘It’s so peaceful when they’re asleep,’ murmured Claudia, leaning against the back of the lounge.
‘Mmm.’ I sighed with the pleasure of a successful night behind me. There was nothing I needed to do except relax and enjoy the company of good friends.
‘Come on, let’s fill up the glasses,’ said Franz, full of energy as always. ‘Let’s toast to the birth of Jesus and to Lotte’s fabulous cooking. I’m so full, I’m sure you’ll have to roll me out the door.’
‘A little change in music would be good about now,’ said Erich. ‘I think I’ve had enough of Christmas carols. Franz, you pick the record as you’re the expert on music, while I open the champagne.’
‘You’re an expert?’ I said, bringing the nuts and fruit cake to the coffee table. ‘I didn’t know that.’
‘Franz comes from a very musical family and was named after his father’s favourite composer and pianist, Franz Liszt,’ said Claudia.
‘Really?’ I looked at Franz in surprise. He was engrossed in his task, already thumbing through our small collection of records, stacked on a shelf beneath the record player. ‘According to my mother, Franz Liszt was a good friend of my great-great grandfather.’
‘Isn’t it amazing, the strange coincidences that connect us to one another? Franz was an accomplished concert pianist before the war, before he became a lawyer,’ Claudia continued, holding up a champagne glass for Erich. ‘He was asked to play a number of concerts on the boat coming to Australia.’
‘What sort of concerts?’ Erich asked as he filled the glasses.
‘Solos, concertos mainly . . . Bee
thoven, Chopin, Liszt of course, and a variety of other composers, but they’re my favourites,’ said Franz, straightening up.
‘The one I loved the most was Beethoven’s Pathetique Sonata. The audience gave Franz a standing ovation the night he played that. He was told by the Australian officials on board that he should pursue a career here in Australia.’ Claudia’s eyes were sparkling with pride.
‘Why didn’t you?’ I asked, as the strains of Chopin’s Fantaisie Impromptu began. It was a beautiful composition, one that always reminded me of my mother. I remembered sitting in the parlour after dinner with her and my father to listen to it. I closed my eyes for a second. The music was passionate and moving.
‘I don’t know . . . making money to support my family seemed more important.’ Franz sighed as he flopped into the lounge chair and took a glass of champagne from Erich. ‘Danke.’
‘We would’ve managed,’ Claudia said.
Franz laid his hand gently on his wife’s cheek. ‘I know, my sweetheart, but why make life harder than it needs to be? God knows we’d been through enough in Germany.’
She nodded sadly and kissed his hand.
None of us spoke. Nobody who was touched by Nazi Germany and the war had a simple story, but dredging up the ghost of the past was a painful business, rarely contemplated, and even more rarely shared with others. There were so many stories of lives and families destroyed by the war, incredible potential and talent that should have been shared with the world but which had been crushed prematurely.
‘Well, you’ll have to play for us sometime,’ said Erich, breaking the sombre mood. The relief was palpable.
‘Of course!’ said Franz, draining his glass.
‘We’ve been saving for a decent piano,’ said Claudia. ‘Hopefully soon we’ll have one and the house will be filled with music again.’
‘Yes, I miss playing at the end of the day and listening to the children practise. Anna and Peter learnt in Germany but it’s been a few years. I want to teach the twins too. It will be good to have a piano again but I’m not so sure how much time I’ll have to play once I get into law school.’
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