I nodded. With Mutti’s loss on the Skaubryn, I had resigned myself to working hard for years before we’d ever be able to afford to buy a house.
‘Well, what if we buy some land, a few acres? It’s better than renting, paying dead money. We could build a house, a few rooms at first so we can move into it, but bigger than what we have now so it’s comfortable, and then add on more. Perhaps we could even farm a little, grow some crops and vegetables, make some extra money on the side . . . I want the girls to grow up understanding about the cycles of nature, as I did. I want them to have a childhood like that.’
He looked at me. I tried to hide my smile at his enthusiasm, not at all surprised. He’d been giving away a few hints, and chatting to Franz about farming. Maybe this would make him happy, since he would never return to engineering. Erich was passionate about his union work and it gave him a sense of identity but he needed to put down roots too. He’d grown up in Silesia and, although he’d lived in one of the bigger towns, he’d spent much of his childhood in the surrounding countryside. A farm was a place of sanctuary for him, a place of relaxation and joy. How could I deny him that?
I remembered my childhood, and my father’s estate where I spent idyllic summers running barefoot in the meadows and forests, revelling in the fresh country air and the sense of freedom. They were my best memories of my youth. I couldn’t wish my lonely childhood on my children but I did love the outdoors and open spaces.
‘Well, what do you think of that?’
‘It could work . . . We’d stop renting sooner.’ I stared out to the small garden we’d planted, little bursts of colour making the yard feel cheery and loved. I’d enjoyed making that garden with Erich and the girls. I could feel his eyes on me, willing me to be just as excited as he was. ‘Just as long as we have more space in the house and it’s in good condition before we move into it. We have to find the right block, not too far away from the girls’ school or work.’
‘So you think it’s a good plan?’
‘Yes, it’s wonderful.’
‘I promised you we’d find a way. We’ll find the perfect place, I know it, and you’ll have the house of your dreams.’
I laughed at his excitement and earnest desire to make me happy.
A banging on the back of the ute reminded us that the children were waiting. ‘Come on, Vati,’ yelled Greta. ‘We want to go for a drive.’
‘All right, let’s go on our adventure.’ Erich eased the ute away from the gutter, onto the street.
We decided to drive up to the Blue Mountains not long after. Reinhardt, Sabine and Otto had insisted that we join them for a day out. We met them in Katoomba at the lookout of The Three Sisters.
‘Wow,’ said Johanna, staring across the valley.
‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ Sabine said, pulling her coat closed. It was fresh at this altitude but nothing compared to the cold in Germany.
‘It just goes on forever,’ said Greta in awe. It was an alien landscape. The soft green of the eucalypt forest covered the deep crevices of the valley below and spread up the mountain plateaus as far as the eye could see, punctuated only by rugged sandstone cliffs and the three strange but impressive outcrops of rock that stood like ancient sentinels above the valley.
‘Is it worth the trip?’ asked Reinhardt, smiling at the girls’ reactions.
‘It’s wilder and grander than I imagined . . . prehistoric even,’ I said. ‘We don’t have anything like this back in Germany.’
‘It looks impenetrable,’ said Erich. ‘How can people navigate their way through these mountains?’
‘For a long time they didn’t, and there are still hikers who get lost in these mountains,’ said Otto, leaning casually against a metal railing. ‘People die all the time.’
I shivered at the thought of being lost out here. The Australian landscape could be harsh and unforgiving but there was no denying how breathtakingly beautiful it could be too. I pulled out my camera to take photos of Erich and the girls with the iconic The Three Sisters in the background.
*
It was November before I was finally able to properly use my photography skills again. Thank God I’d been using my time wisely, learning about the technological advances and changes in cameras and photography after being out of the industry for so long. Otto was up to date with the most recent ideas coming out of the European academies and had agreed to help me with the retraining I needed whenever he wasn’t busy. He had given me manuals to read in the spare time I didn’t have. But somehow I managed to bring it all together, and Otto gave me a project to test my new skill and techniques: I had to take some technically difficult shots and develop them to show Reinhardt.
Otto decided that photographing the girls on their sports carnival at school would satisfy the requirements. I was touched by his thoughtfulness, pleased I could watch the girls compete even if I was concentrating on taking the perfect photos and incorporating all the aspects on Otto’s checklist. It would be a challenge, but I was ready for it and excited to prove what I was capable of.
I left the girls in their yellow T-shirts and ribbons and made my way to the track. The shouting and cheering fell away as I focused on the racing children on the sports field. The sun burst through the overcast sky, casting a momentary glow over the oval. I couldn’t do much about the light in this environment. I had brought a small reflector to either minimise shadows or soften the sunlight for the outdoor portraits I would later do of the girls. Now, it was all about capturing the moment, anticipating the movements and getting the right shutter speed – taking the photos in fast, successive bursts. I was prepared to use the new technology of the camera I was using, with its SLR lens, various shutter speeds and modern focusing mechanism. But I wanted more – not just the action, but their joyful, vigorous expressions and body language. My photos had to tell a story, they had to have a soul. I knew I had to move to the finish line.
‘You have a good eye,’ was all Reinhardt said to me after carefully studying the final prints.
‘It’s time for you to work behind the camera,’ said Otto proudly.
Sabine had just been married to a lovely Norwegian boy who had graduated in architecture and they were on their honeymoon, four weeks in Europe. Reinhardt decided to allow me to take on some of the appointments scheduled until Christmas, ones that Otto and the other senior photographer, Alex, couldn’t fit in. I was to manage the extra studio sittings and the odd assignment outside the studio as well as the work I was doing. Saturdays were often fully booked with weddings and I was thrilled to learn that I would cover these too. Wedding photography was prestigious and a wonderful opportunity to finally interact with ordinary Australian people. I was so pleased that Erich had insisted that I get my licence and that we had the car.
However, at my first shoot it wasn’t quite what I had expected. I hadn’t thought of the challenges associated with such an emotionally charged day.
The bride was nervous when she stepped out of the car in front of the church. Her father with his shiny black shoes and slicked down hair had no idea what to do. Even the bridesmaids that hovered around her couldn’t calm her.
‘Time with her please,’ I said to the matron of honour.
‘What do you want?’ she asked sharply, already feeling the pressure of the day.
This was not the time for my English to fail me. ‘Take the girls away. Give her room.’ She looked at me dubiously. I breathed deeply to illustrate my meaning, keeping an efficient, professional demeanour, as though I’d dealt with this exact situation many times before. Relief washed over me when she nodded and took the bride’s father’s arm, directing the bridesmaids and flower girl to wait with them in the shade of the trees. It was already becoming a warm day and it wouldn’t be long before the flowers started to wilt. I’d have to work quickly.
I crouched down next to the panicked bride as she perched on the edge of the back seat of the car. ‘Tell me about your fiancé. I want to take the best photographs of you both.
How did you meet? What made you fall in love with him?’
The bride smiled then and I knew I’d got through to her. She relaxed visibly as she told me her story, reminding her of how much she wanted this day to come to pass. When she’d finished, she was radiant, confident and couldn’t wait to enter the church. I knew the photos would be perfect.
‘Thank you,’ she said, grasping my hand for a moment. We were waiting in the sandstone portico as the bridesmaids prepared her train.
‘Just enjoy your day,’ I said, glad that we’d overcome the first hurdle and that I now had her trust.
The bride and groom were easy to photograph in the gardens after. The groom was no longer awkward or uncomfortable in his suit and the bride was happy that they were on their own for a few moments. It allowed me to create unique but natural shots that I thought they’d be happy with. But gathering family members was another matter. Concentrating to make sure I used the right English words, getting them to all look at the camera, especially the restless children, and ensuring the lighting and positions were just right was more of a challenge. The reception wasn’t any easier, trying to stay unobtrusive but ready to catch that perfect moment, wrestling with the uneven lighting. My greatest worry was that Reinhardt would be disappointed with my work and never give me another photography assignment or studio sitting, but I enjoyed every moment of that day. By the end of the night, I was exhausted but jubilant. I was doing what I loved.
Between my normal work, night work and weekends, I barely had time to think. We began to save more money and the dream of buying a block of land became tangible for me. Thank God for Mutti, who cooked at night and looked after the girls after school and the weekends that Erich worked. She even did a little cleaning while supervising the girls with their chores. I had never imagined in my wildest dreams that she could be such a help. But I did miss spending time with my family and tried my best to have dinner with them every night.
‘I don’t want liverwurst sandwiches any more, Mutti,’ said Johanna one evening after dinner.
‘Why not, darling? You like liverwurst.’
‘I want Vegemite sandwiches,’ whispered Johanna, ‘just like all the Australian kids.’
‘The Australians tease anyone with a different lunch to them,’ said Greta softly.
I couldn’t show them how I was hurting for them, it would only make it worse.
‘So Vegemite?’ All I could do was help to smooth their transition and if Vegemite was going to help, then Vegemite it was.
Both girls nodded. A tendril of uncertainty snaked down my back. What if doing what I loved, the constant work to get ahead, was at the expense of the girls? I wanted to be there for them, know what they were going through each day, help them make sense of their world. I’d have to keep a closer eye on them, I decided.
‘Can you make our lunches, Mutti?’ Greta glanced at the kitchen. ‘We don’t want to upset Grossmama, but she’s a bit heavy-handed and Vegemite needs to be smeared on the bread thin, not thick.’
I tried not to smile. ‘All right. I’ll buy some tomorrow.’
*
Sabine returned from her honeymoon just before Christmas. Reinhardt called me into his office. I was sure that she would return to her usual position and the chance to prove my worth would be gone.
‘Sabine and I have been talking,’ he said without preamble. ‘She’s coming back to work after Christmas, so she’ll continue with her studio sittings and assignments during the week.’
‘Of course,’ I murmured. I tried to smile and not show the disappointment that pierced me. I had been hoping to take on more of the studio work.
‘However, I’ve decided that I’d like you to continue the weddings on Saturdays.’
My head shot up. ‘Really?’
‘Doesn’t it suit you?’ asked Reinhardt.
‘Yes, yes, it does,’ I gushed. ‘I just can’t believe you’re letting me continue with the weddings.’
‘Why not? You’re a very talented photographer. You’re efficient, hard-working and you get the job done. Not only that, but you deal beautifully with the clients. I’ve had such good reports about your management on the day and your handling of the bridal party and guests.’
I blushed furiously, embarrassed by the praise but pleased at the same time. I was talented, he said. It had been a very long time since I had heard those words.
‘Thank you.’
‘So you’re happy to keep the Saturdays then?’
‘Yes, that sounds wonderful.’ I smiled. Finally I had done it – I was working behind the camera, if only for one day a week. But if Reinhardt thought I was talented, there would be more work to come. Not only that, the extra money would really help us.
1959
With my greater understanding of the surrounding districts, thanks to travelling to many areas for the Saturday weddings, Erich and I narrowed down the search area for our farm quite quickly. We found what we wanted in Leppington, about halfway between Liverpool and the rural town of Camden. It was perfect for Erich’s dream: ten acres surrounded by farmland, market gardens and bush. Although it seemed quite secluded, it was only a ten-minute walk to the Hume Highway for the girls or Mutti to catch the bus into Liverpool. Best of all, it was affordable. Putting down our deposit and nervously awaiting settlement felt incredible. A small patch of Australian land was about to become ours.
We had a little get-together at home to celebrate our achievement. Franz, Claudia and the children joined us, as did Reinhardt, Sabine and her husband Karl, and our neighbours Tommy and Suzanne with their new baby, Joan. It was a lovely spring afternoon drinking coffee and tea, eating cake and celebrating with a glass of champagne.
‘However did you find it?’ asked Suzanne, the baby wriggling restlessly on her lap.
‘I drove past the For Sale sign one Saturday on my way to a wedding,’ I said, sipping my champagne.
‘We went the next day to have a look. We’d seen enough places to know what we were after. It was perfect,’ Erich said.
‘I told them I was jealous,’ Franz leaned across Claudia to whisper conspiratorially to Suzanne. ‘We’ve just bought a house in Liverpool but after seeing their farm, all I want to do is sell our place and move to the quiet and solitude of the country too!’
His uncle Ernst had unexpectedly come to live with them late the previous year. Claudia hadn’t been very happy about his sudden arrival but, as he’d done so much for Franz in Germany during the war, they couldn’t refuse him. Ernst had been living in Spain until recently when he’d learnt of Franz’s emigration to Australia and decided to join him. It had been a very tight squeeze with them all in the two-bedroom home until Ernst had insisted on helping them with his savings to purchase the home they now owned.
Claudia batted him playfully over the ear. ‘Don’t listen to him. We love our place. It’s convenient, close to school, work, the station, doesn’t need much doing to it and has plenty of room for everyone.’ She turned her gaze to her husband. ‘Besides, what would you do with all that land? You’re not a farmer. It would only be a headache for us.’
‘But Erich isn’t a farmer either.’ Franz took a long swallow of beer, his legs stretched out in front of him.
‘Yes, but at least he grew up around a farming community. Not like you, who grew up in the big city.’
‘But a man has to have dreams,’ Franz groaned, but I could see the twinkle in his eye.
‘Your dream is right here,’ Claudia scolded. ‘You have to finish your studies, get a job, and we have to save until you can open up your own firm.’
Franz was halfway through his first year of law school and was currently looking for work in one of the law firms in Sydney. The arrival of his uncle meant he could return to university full time while Ernst took on Franz’s job at the door factory, and they’d still have his income. Erich now picked Ernst up for work each day, returning the favour Franz had done him for all those months.
Franz’s shoulders slumped in
mock defeat. ‘I suppose that’s it then.’
‘You can have a farm when you retire,’ said Suzanne tentatively.
‘That’s right,’ said Claudia.
‘Well, at least let me go out and help Erich clear his block on the weekends. That’s all I’ll have of the fresh air and peace and quiet.’
‘You mean you’ll give me some peace and quiet,’ retorted Claudia, holding out her glass to Erich as he poured more champagne. ‘As long as you take the children and your uncle with you.’
‘Don’t worry about those two,’ I whispered to Suzanne. ‘They’re just joking around. Besides, they’ve both had a bit to drink and that’s when Franz really likes to stir Claudia up.’
‘All right,’ she said, placing a teething ring into Joan’s mouth. The little girl quietened immediately, drool dribbling down her chin.
‘How long until you think you’ll be ready to move there?’ asked Tommy.
Erich paused to think, beer bottle halfway to his mouth. ‘I have to clear some of the land. I want to plant crops, maybe something that grows easily to start with, until I get a good understanding of the soil and climate. Then I’ll have to begin on the house. That will take some time, I think.’
And money, I thought. It would be a while until we could move. We had to save more to afford to build the house. I had to be patient. One step at a time.
‘Sometime next year, perhaps.’ Erich smiled at me and I returned it. I couldn’t wait to be in our own place. We’d waited so long for this.
‘We’ll miss you,’ whispered Suzanne, squeezing my hand.
‘We’ll miss you too,’ I said, ‘but I’m in Liverpool almost every day. I’m sure we’ll see each other often.’ I had grown fond of Suzanne. She was a lovely girl, friendly, kind and thoughtful. Joan began to cry, tossing the teething ring away.
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