‘It’ll be okay, Lotte. Your mother’s safe and well and will soon be under your loving care. The rest doesn’t matter.’
‘But she’s got nothing. Everything would’ve gone down with the ship.’ We both knew what this meant.
‘Maybe she kept her valuables on her. You know how your mother is with money. She keeps everything in that handbag of hers. I bet it never left her side.’
I nodded. ‘You’re right. The luggage is probably gone but she would’ve kept everything else with her.’
‘There’s the insurance as well,’ said Erich softly. ‘She should be able to claim on that. With any luck, she hasn’t lost everything, and if she has . . . we’ll manage as we always do.’ He shrugged as if it wasn’t important, though our chance of buying a house rested on my parents’ gift and, if it was gone, so was our new beginning.
But I wouldn’t dwell on what might be. Instead, I was comforted by the reasonable hope that all would still be well.
*
Although we had more room than back at the hostel, the house was still small. The girls already shared a bedroom but we had the tiny space at the back of the house next to the back door, a porch that had been closed in. There was enough room for a bed, a side table and wardrobe that Erich had made, and it was this space we prepared for Mutti. The girls helped me make it homely and inviting while Erich hung a curtain as a partition. I was pleased with the results.
The work kept me busy, giving me an outlet for my nervous energy. Part of me wondered whether agreeing to have Mutti live with us was a mistake. I hoped she wouldn’t make trouble between Erich and me. I hoped that I could cope with her tendency to interfere with our lives. And I wondered if the sinking of the Skaubryn was a sign of what was to come. I was immediately ashamed for thinking such thoughts, after everything she’d been through.
‘Vati! Grossmama’s coming tomorrow,’ said Johanna, dancing around her father, unable to stay still. ‘Can you believe it? Isn’t it so exciting?’
‘Yes,’ said Erich. ‘Very exciting.’
I smirked and dropped my head, not daring to look at him. Erich would soon be surrounded by women.
‘Come on now, help your mother.’
We borrowed Franz’s car and went to pick my mother up from Sydney Airport. It was the first time any of us had been there and the girls’ wide eyes as they surveyed the massive jumbo jets through the windows as we walked to the arrivals lounge took the edge off my nervousness and worry.
Then I saw her – Mutti: forlorn, bedraggled and alone, clutching her handbag as if it was the only thing she had in the world. She scanned the crowd anxiously for us, her face pale and drawn. Normally she appeared younger than she was but today she looked her fifty-eight years, her strawberry blonde hair frizzy and unkempt and streaked with grey, and her dress crushed and rumpled, as if she’d been sleeping in it for days.
Johanna pulled on my arm in excitement. ‘There she is. There’s Grossmama.’ Then she paused. ‘What’s wrong with her, Mutti? She’s all messy.’
‘There was a problem on Grossmama’s boat and she hasn’t had time to change her clothes or fix herself up before arriving here. Now, don’t say anything to her. She’s very tired and she’s had a difficult few days.’
‘All right, Mutti. Come on, let’s get her so we can take her home and she can have a rest and get changed.’
I smiled as Johanna dragged me to where Mutti was standing, but she was right. That was exactly what my mother needed.
‘Grossmama!’ yelled the girls in unison, waving their arms so she could see us. Greta rushed ahead, throwing herself into her grandmother’s arms. Mutti swayed a little, stunned by the weight of the nearly twelve-year-old. She wrapped her arms around Greta, kissing the top of her head. When she looked at me, there were tears in her eyes.
‘Lotte,’ she murmured, her face crumpling with relief. ‘I made it.’
Greta moved aside for me to greet my mother and, finally, the moment I’d been dreaming about for months was real. I held my mother in my arms.
‘Mutti, I can’t believe you’re really here,’ I whispered. ‘I’ve missed you so much.’ I pulled back a moment to look carefully at her. ‘Are you all right?’
‘I’m fine.’ A small smile flitted across her face. ‘Nothing was going to stop me from coming to you.’ Then she began shaking like a leaf. My tears mingled with hers as I kissed her cheek and we held each other tight.
We headed to the exit and I wanted to pinch myself to see if I was really walking arm in arm with Mutti, just like the old days. Even her greeting with Erich couldn’t have been better: she hugged him tight and he was gentle and warm with her.
‘Grossmama, where’s your luggage?’ Greta stood still in the middle of the flow of people, causing them to jostle to get around her. ‘Don’t we have to get it before we go?’
‘No, her luggage didn’t come with her on the plane,’ said Erich as he draped his arm over our daughter’s shoulder and guided her along.
‘Do you have to wait for it to arrive from the ship?’ asked Johanna, holding her father’s hand.
Mutti looked at me and I shook my head. I hadn’t told the girls what had happened. They didn’t need to be distressed unnecessarily.
‘Yes, that’s right. I have to wait for it,’ my mother said.
‘But what about your hand luggage, your overnight bag?’ Greta persisted. She took her grandmother’s free hand, looked up at her with a frown.
‘It got lost, schätzchen.’ Mutti removed her arm from mine and smoothed the hair from Greta’s face. ‘But it’s all right now, because I’m here with you.’
Greta nodded, satisfied, and hugged her grandmother. ‘Okay, Grossmama. We’ll look after you. We’ve got so much to tell you. I can’t wait to show you around! Johanna and I will take you exploring while Mutti and Vati are at work.’
A pang of discomfort shot through me. My mother would be looking after the children instead of me and Greta was clearly excited about the prospect. Erich sent a look at me as if to say, ‘It begins’.
‘That will be lovely,’ said Mutti.
‘We have to get Grossmama settled first,’ I said firmly. ‘Let’s give her some time before you bombard her with your activities.’ Mutti squeezed my hand in gratitude. Her hand in mine was a solid reminder that she was finally here and no longer alone. It was time to lavish all the love and attention on her that I hadn’t been able to for years.
When we arrived home, I left Mutti in a warm bath and went out the back to wash the clothes she’d been wearing. I wanted a few minutes to myself. I had never seen my mother so shaken and lost but the last thing she needed was for me to break down. I had to be the strong one.
‘Don’t disturb Grossmama,’ I heard Erich whisper as I reached the back door. ‘Once Mutti comes inside, we’ll take Onkel Franz’s car back to him.’
‘But Vati,’ said Greta, ‘I wanted to talk to Grossmama. It’s been such a long time and I have so much to tell her.’ She sounded so disappointed. She had missed her grandmother more than I’d realised.
‘You’ll have plenty of time to talk to Grossmama. Let’s give her some peace and quiet. How about we go and get some ice cream and let her rest for a while?’
‘All right,’ said Johanna. Ice cream got them every time.
I stood for a moment to compose myself and wiped my eyes before coming inside.
Erich reached out and kissed me on the neck. ‘All right?’
‘Yes. I’m fine now. I’ll put a pot of coffee on for Mutti. She’ll enjoy that more than instant coffee, and then we’ll sit down and see how she really is.’
‘Well, I’ll give you some time and take the girls with me.’
‘For ice cream, I believe.’ I raised an eyebrow and Erich smiled. I kissed him, grateful. ‘Thank you, my darling.’
Mutti emerged from her bedroom about half an hour later, dressed in the fresh plain skirt and blouse I had bought for her. It was strange to see her in such simple clot
hes and I felt sad that I hadn’t been able to buy her something she was more accustomed to wearing, but she was smiling anyway. She sat on the lounge, her damp hair still bound with a towel.
‘It feels wonderful to finally be really clean.’
‘Do you want to curl your hair now?’ I asked, pouring the hot, strong coffee into Mutti’s cup before filling mine. I sat down beside her.
‘No, my schatz, not now. I’ll do it after I’ve had a little sleep.’ She picked up her coffee and took a sip. ‘Ah, just the way I like it and just what I needed.’
‘Tired?’
She put her cup down. ‘Yes. I haven’t had much sleep in the last week or so but I’m not ready for bed yet . . . I’m too happy to be here.’ She squeezed my hand, tears in her eyes. ‘At one point I wondered if I would ever see you again. Vati would be so happy to see us together now. I can’t bear to think of him at the moment. I miss him so much.’
‘It’s all right, Mutti. You’re here now, and safe. You made it.’ I kissed her hand, still clenched tightly in mine.
Her eyes drifted to a recent photo of the girls on the bookshelf. It had been taken at Christmas and they were happy and carefree, long-limbed, skin browned to a healthy glow from summer days under the Australian sun. They were heartbreakingly beautiful.
‘They’ve grown so tall,’ Mutti said. ‘Greta looks so much like Tante Susie at that age. She takes after my Bavarian grandmother’s side of the family. They’re all gone now. You three are all I have left . . .
‘I’m glad you left Germany. Here the girls can grow up without the spectre of the war, here they can be free from all the losses Germany has endured – that we’ve all endured.’ She sighed. ‘This is where I want to be, with you and your girls. This is home now.’
Tears filled my eyes and I dashed them away. It shocked me to see her so raw. This was not the Mutti I was used to. Whatever she had been through out on the ocean had changed her. Perhaps all my apprehension leading up to her arrival was unfounded and unfair.
‘Erich looks the same,’ she continued, ‘but he’s quite grey now and seems tired. I heard him talking to the girls when I was in the bath.’
‘Yes, I heard them,’ I said, adding a splash of milk to my cup.
‘He’s a good father . . . I noticed the way he looked at the children when we walked to the car. He adores them.’ Her eyes took on that penetrating stare I knew so well, startlingly blue and frosty. ‘But I’m not so sure about you.’
‘What?’
‘You’re much too thin and you look exhausted. Maybe this move to Australia has been good for the children, but not for you.’
‘I’m fine, Mutti. There’s no need to worry about me. Let me worry about you and take care of you for a change.’ I understood her concern but had forgotten what it was sometimes like with her. I refused to react – I couldn’t let the irritation humming in my nerves get the better of me.
‘Things aren’t right with you. It’s as if all the disappointments have dented your spirit. I can see it in your eyes, the set of your shoulders, your body language.’
‘Mutti, really, I’m just tired. It’s been a busy few weeks and we’ve all been worried about you.’
‘I know. When I’ve regained my strength, I’ll look after you and help you in any way I can. I want to see the spark in your eyes again.’ She turned her face abruptly away and fiddled with the cuff of her blouse. ‘I’m so sorry, Lotte. I didn’t mean to cause you such worry. I came to help make your life better, not worse.’
‘Shh, Mutti.’ I hugged her tight. ‘All that matters is that you’re here, safe and well.’
She pulled away, a look of desperation on her face. ‘I have to tell you what happened now, before I lose my courage.’
‘You don’t need to talk about it if you’re not ready, Mutti.’
‘No, Lotte, it has to be now.’ She picked up her coffee cup and sipped, as if summoning what strength she had left and finding a way to start. ‘I only want to tell you about it once,’ she said, placing her cup back on the saucer. ‘You have to know.’
A streak of sunlight from the front window fell across the coffee table that Erich had made, the pinkish timber gleaming rich and warm. I’d seen my mother deal with tragedy before. Mutti believed that it was best kept to yourself, locked away in a little compartment in your mind and heart, only to be opened, just a crack, in dreams and disjointed nightmares until time was finally able to keep those compartments sealed. It was the way things were done in her family, where traditional German values were held in the highest regard. That was my old world. But I knew about trauma and hardship too, and knew there were other ways to deal with pain and heartbreak.
‘We were somewhere between Aden and Ceylon and it was very hot. We’d had an emergency drill earlier that afternoon and many of the passengers who were used to a siesta were less than happy to have their rest disturbed. It was the men who grumbled the most, while the women kept the children under control. I went to dinner as usual, enjoying the company of the German couples at my table. They persuaded me to stay and listen to the band play afterwards and I danced a little too . . . You were right. The Skaubryn was a beautiful ship and the service was impeccable. It reminded me of the holidays I used to enjoy. There was intelligent and sparkling dinner conversation and walks along the decks with new friends. I began to feel alive again and I was finally able to let my grief fade just a little and enjoy myself.’ She took a deep breath.
‘I can’t believe it’s gone now,’ I murmured wistfully, leaning back into my seat, my coffee forgotten. ‘The Skaubryn was our first real holiday. We couldn’t believe the level of luxury. There was always something for the children to do. It was the first time Erich and I had time to just relax and enjoy each other’s company without the pressures of our life in Germany.’ I shook my head. ‘We’d had such high hopes but we had no idea how difficult it would be when we arrived. I can only imagine how much harder it’s going to be for those families who have come with nothing but the clothes on their back.’
‘How long since you’ve laughed, Lotte?’ Mutti asked softly.
My eyes widened in surprise at the question. She missed nothing. ‘It’s been hard, Mutti, but we’re doing better now. We both have jobs and this house. The children are happy and thriving here. Things are looking up.’
‘And you and Erich? Are things good between you? Is he treating you as he should?’
‘We’re as strong as ever, Mutti. We’ve both been under a lot of strain and working long hours, but things are good between us.’
Mutti nodded, her lips compressed. She once told me, on a rare occasion when she’d spoken from the heart, that the reason we often clashed was because we were so much alike. She said it was hard to be in the same room as me sometimes, because it was like a mirror was held up to her and she was confronted by the truth of what she saw in my face.
I knew she was only worried about me but I couldn’t have her interfere in my marriage. I picked up my coffee cup, welcoming the strong, slightly bitter taste. I couldn’t berate her after all she’d just been through, but I could change the subject.
‘What happened on the boat, Mutti?’
‘It’s hard to talk about.’ She paused, clutching the arms of the chair so her fingers turned white.
‘It was like a nightmare. The lights went out. It was about half past nine. An announcement came over the loudspeaker that we were to make our way to the lifeboats. The ship was on fire. We were guided from the lounge by crewmen with torches. Smoke began to billow out of passageways . . . crewmen burst through the doors . . . passengers from the lower decks spilled out coughing. The heat was oppressive and it was hard to breathe. The pushing and shoving . . . the screaming as mothers looked for their children and husbands looked for their wives. The smell of fear, it was stronger than the stench of smoke that we could smell for days after. My friend Rina held my hand so tight that I couldn’t feel my fingers. Then her husband found us, pushing us in front of
him, like cattle down a race. He held his young son’s hand, yelling at us to stay with him . . . Rina was screaming at her son not to let go, sobbing uncontrollably.
‘When the time came, we climbed down the rope ladder into the lifeboat and we were lowered against the hull of the boat. The metal plate was hot. Then we were bobbing on the ocean, watching the other boats being loaded, passengers in evening wear and pyjamas, ushering frightened children towards the edge of the ship, mothers screaming as screeching babies in pillowcases were thrown from the deck into the waiting arms of the crewmen in the lifeboats. It must have been well after midnight when everyone was safely on the water and we watched the flickers of fire and plumes of smoke intensify on the ship. It was then that I realised I still had my handbag clutched to my chest.’
Mutti seemed to remember I was sitting beside her then and she shivered slightly, turning those bright blue eyes on me and sighed. ‘The crewmen worked like clockwork, calm and efficient, and they got everyone on those boats. They saved all our lives. Finally before dawn, an oil tanker reached us. We watched the Skaubryn sink while we waited for the SS Roma to reach us.’
‘Oh Mutti, I’m so sorry. It must have been awful . . .’ I willed the tears away. If Mutti could be strong, then so could I.
‘It’s over now.’ Mutti patted my hand. ‘But there’s something else I have to tell you . . . The fire and our escape wasn’t the worst of it.’
‘What do you mean?’
She hung her head. ‘I didn’t just lose my luggage and the few things I brought from home with me.’
I put my cup down, intending to end the conversation. ‘Mutti, I think you’ve been through enough.’
She put her hand on my arm. ‘No. Let me finish. It was what was in the captain’s safe.’
Dread grew in my belly.
‘As we were being directed off the Skaubryn, I approached one of the crewmen. I told him that I had a package locked in the captain’s safe that I needed to retrieve. He told me that it had to stay, there wasn’t enough time to get it. I pleaded with him, told him that it was all I had left in the world and asked if the captain, perhaps, or one of the crewmen, could bring it. He just shook his head and gently pushed me towards the lifeboats on the edge of the deck before dealing with the rest of the passengers. All I had was my handbag, which I had taken with me to dinner.’
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