Suitcase of Dreams

by Tania Blanchard

  ‘Good coffee?’ I asked.

  ‘Very good, thank you, Lotte,’ said Ernst, ‘but at my age, drinking too much of it means I need to visit the trees. Excuse me. I’ll be back in a moment.’ He put his cup down on a stump and walked towards the tree line.

  Franz blew on the surface of the coffee, steam rising into his face, and took a cautious sip. ‘Ahh, lovely.’ He smiled at me, blue eyes creased into triangles, blond hair falling over his forehead. ‘Watch that husband of yours when he gets home.’

  The sudden change of subject surprised me. ‘What do you mean?’ I asked more sharply than I intended. ‘He won’t be able to do much.’

  Franz shook his head. ‘No, I didn’t mean that, although you’ll have to watch that he doesn’t do too much too quickly. He’ll want to have this place built and organised to perfection before he’s in any condition to do it. What I’m talking about is the union. While he’s recovering at home, he’ll have plenty of time to think about all the injustices still to fight and the best way to fix them. The union won’t leave him alone and I know how much the work he can do through them means to him. But I’m worried about some of his associates.’ He put his cup on the ground and paused as if unsure what to say next.

  I placed my hand on his arm, which was damp with sweat. ‘What is it, Franz?’

  ‘I don’t want to worry you, but I think it’s best that you know. I’ve spoken to Erich before about this, but there’s a risk in him being associated with these men. Not only are they affiliated with the Communist Party, but some of them are members. I’m sure these men are being watched by the government.’

  ‘But Erich isn’t doing anything wrong!’

  ‘I know that, but look what happened when he was threatened. It’s about who’s perceived to be a troublemaker, who pushes the boundaries of established order.’

  ‘Even when those boundaries no longer apply,’ I said. ‘All Erich wants to do is make equality a reality for everyone, not just those who’ve lived here for generations.’

  ‘Change comes slowly, Lotte. We’re all proud of the things he’s pushed for and succeeded in implementing already, but I’d hate to see him in danger and you in any more difficulty than you have already experienced.’

  ‘Thank you, Franz, for your honesty,’ I said, not certain if I should feel reassured or worried. I was lucky to have friends who cared enough to tell me the truth. It was a rare commodity that I treasured deeply.

  ‘On that note, I’d better get back to work.’ He handed me the cup and smiled before lifting the shovel and digging once more.

  Bewildered, I walked away slowly, wondering what to think about Franz’s warning. I was proud that Erich was standing up for injustice and doing something about it. He cared and took his responsibility to improve the lives of those less fortunate seriously. I couldn’t understand how that made him a threat to anyone.

  *

  Over lunch one day, Reinhardt invited us to his home for the Queen’s Birthday celebrations on the long weekend in June.

  ‘I’ll be visiting Erich, packing or at the farm,’ I said, lighting up a cigarette. Everyone in the studio smoked and, much to my disgust, I’d finally succumbed to the habit. It helped enormously with my constant state of exhaustion, allowing me to keep going with more energy than I thought I had.

  ‘You’re not doing Cracker Night?’ Otto looked like there was no greater outrage. ‘I know it’s an Australian tradition, but it’s great fun. We’ve been doing it for years.’

  ‘No,’ I said, sipping my tepid coffee. I had no time or money to waste on frivolities.

  ‘Have you or the children ever been?’ Sabine asked. She was working fewer hours at the moment, as she was pregnant again after suffering a miscarriage.

  ‘We’ve never had the chance,’ I said. ‘We missed any fireworks display at Villawood the first year we were here and since then . . . we’ve been too busy.’ I couldn’t say that we hadn’t known any Australians who had hosted Cracker Night. I suddenly felt that we hadn’t made enough effort to get to know people socially because we’d been working so hard.

  ‘Your children haven’t been to a Cracker Night!’ Reinhardt repeated, incredulous, shaking his head.

  ‘Vati has a huge pile of wood ready for the largest bonfire we’ve ever had,’ said Sabine, her eyes shining with enthusiasm. ‘Karl can’t wait to light the fire and see how big it’ll get. He’s just a boy at heart.’

  ‘Yes, and we’ve ordered the best firecrackers,’ added Otto, his sandwich forgotten. ‘Roman candles, skyrockets and Catherine wheels. It’s going to be loud and smoky but lots of fun.’

  ‘You must bring the children and your mother, of course,’ said Reinhardt. ‘We’re doing it on Sunday evening because of the Saturday weddings and it won’t be a late night. We’ll have a barbecue and we can stand around the bonfire to keep warm.’

  ‘There’s so much to do before we move. I don’t know if I’ll have time.’

  ‘You’ll have all day to do what you have to,’ said Otto. ‘I’ll come and pick you all up around four o’clock. The kids will love it!’

  ‘Yes, you have to come,’ said Sabine. ‘It’s not as much fun without children. Please come.’

  She looked at me with such hope that I couldn’t say no. Reinhardt and his children were becoming like family to me. And after the last few months, the girls deserved a little treat.

  ‘All right,’ I said.

  As Reinhardt had promised, the bonfire blazed tall, tiny embers floating golden into the inky sky. We ate Bratwurst sausages cooked on the grill of a barbecue, served so hot they burnt the tips of my fingers, steaming jacket potatoes cooked in the coals and topped with melted butter, and dark bread and sauerkraut, the perfect accompaniments to the crisp night air. Mutti and I were happy enough, full, warm and relaxed, a glass of wine in our hands. The girls were running and laughing, playing tip with the children of the other families that Reinhardt had invited. How long had it been since Erich and I had done something like this? I was determined to make more of our life; there was so much on offer, all we had to do was take it with both hands and enjoy. I wished he were with us.

  A bustle of activity intruded on my reverie – Otto, Karl and Reinhardt were making their way to the bonfire, carrying large boxes.

  ‘Time for the fireworks!’ shouted Sabine. She laughed as the children rushed to swamp the men as they placed their boxes on the ground.

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Otto, rummaging in one of the boxes. ‘Let me put some Catherine wheels on the post while Vati sets up the skyrockets.’

  ‘I’ll get the Roman candles ready,’ said Karl, just as excited as the children.

  Reinhardt set the long sticks attached to the skyrockets into old milk and beer bottles on the ground, a distance away from the fire. ‘Not too close, children,’ he said, lighting the first skyrocket. Mothers clasped small children to their chests, ready for the loud noises that might scare them, and pulled away older children who wandered too close.

  The firecracker flew high through the sky and emitted a loud bang and crackling sound. I jumped at the noise, my heart racing, even though I was expecting it, taken straight back to the war and the gunfire that had become a part of life. Golden stars shot out of the cracker, eliciting oohs and ahhs from the crowd below. I breathed out slowly, pressing my shaking hands to my thighs. Mutti stood rigidly beside me, her eyes staring into the distance, and I knew that she had relived the same memories. I took her arm and felt the tiny vibrations that racked her body begin to ease. We weren’t in a warzone but in the Australian countryside, celebrating life and our good fortune to live in this peaceful land, far from the chaos of Europe.

  Otto lit a Catherine wheel. It began to whizz and spin, a sparkling circle of silver and gold. Karl handed Sabine the first Roman candle, planted a kiss on her mouth and whispered in her ear. Hand over her belly, Sabine looked tenderly at her husband. The children were silent with anticipation, all eyes resting on the cracker, as she po
sitioned it away from her while Karl lit it. A shower of red sparkles streamed from the top and Sabine laughed with joy.

  The men continued to light one firecracker at a time, waiting just long enough between them to get the maximum anticipation out of the crowd. I looked forward to telling Erich about the night when I saw him next, although I knew the children would be fighting to tell him first.

  ‘Look at the children.’ I leant in to Mutti so she could hear me above the noise. ‘They’re loving it.’

  She smiled broadly. ‘What a wonderful way to grow up. They’re very lucky.’ She squeezed my hand. ‘I can see why you and Erich came here. They’re so happy and healthy and don’t have a worry in the world.’

  Tears sprang to my eyes as I watched my girls, the firelight illuminating Johanna’s face, turned to the sky in rapture, Greta, standing nearby, was just as mesmerised. We’d done the right thing. I’d always hoped we had, but here was the proof. Australia was home for the girls now and I realised that it was beginning to feel like home for me, too.

  11

  ‘Can’t you wait until I can help you?’ Erich said, banging his hand on the bed. He was in a foul mood.

  ‘No, you know we can’t,’ I snapped back, glaring at him. ‘Do you really think I want to do this now and without you? Nobody knows when you’ll be able to come home. We have to move, otherwise we sell and we’re back to square one.’

  The doctors suggested that Erich would require another three months or so of healing and rehabilitation to learn to walk again before they would think about his return home.

  ‘I’ll check myself out and come home now, then. I can’t do anything useful from here.’

  ‘Don’t be preposterous,’ I hissed. ‘What good are you if your leg doesn’t heal properly? If you can’t walk, what will you do then?’

  ‘I’ll walk, don’t you worry. I’ll find a way to manage.’ Although he kept his voice low, he was furious now, at me, at the situation, at his helplessness. ‘Nobody can tell me what I can or can’t do.’

  I turned away, my hands over my face, grief and anger coursing through my body like a river, hot tears springing from my eyes. I had had enough. I understood Erich’s agony, the constant pain, his helplessness. Not only couldn’t he help me and his family, he couldn’t help himself until the bones in his leg had healed. The only way to make that happen was to remain bedbound, unable to move.

  On the other hand, I was exhausted from working long hours, trying to keep our heads above water financially, preparing for the move and ensuring we had everything on Erich’s list. I’d ticked off the endless number of chores required to make this move happen and I felt stretched to breaking point – I had no patience left with anyone. I’d begun to resent the fact that I was moving with the children out into the countryside without a car and that we’d be living in primitive conditions without heating, electricity and plumbing. It reminded me – more often than I liked – of the terrible days after the war and the old, dilapidated farm cottage we lived in. We’d left Germany for a better life and here we were, about to live in similar conditions. I was surprised to discover how much it bothered me, since I had been the one who’d suggested it.

  ‘I’m sorry, liebling. I didn’t mean to upset you.’

  Wiping the tears from my face, I turned back to him. My heart seized at the look of remorse on his face. I couldn’t imagine how hard this was for him, a man who could never sit still. It was cruel.

  ‘I know. But you have to do whatever you must to get better. I want you back home with us more than anything, but not at the expense of your health.’

  ‘Come here.’ He took my hand and drew me to him, so I sat on the bed next to him. ‘I know you’re doing this for us. I can never thank you enough.’

  I kissed him lightly on the lips. ‘You can thank me when you come home. We’re doing this together, whatever you think . . . I could never do it without you. Soon we’ll be enjoying our own place, our own home, and this time will be behind us.’

  ‘That’s what I love about you – you’re the eternal optimist. All right, I’ll be good now and trust that you’re right.’

  ‘You know I am.’

  *

  It was July when we were ready to move in. Franz, Ernst, Otto and Reinhardt helped us. We used Otto’s ute and Franz’s car to transport our belongings.

  It had been hard to say goodbye to Tommy, Suzanne and little Joan but we’d still see them: Suzanne insisted that Mutti come to visit one day a week, and that the girls come after school and do homework, and we stay for dinner whenever we visited Erich. Although I wasn’t used to being offered help, her offer would make a great difference to how we’d manage and I was happy to agree. Suzanne and I had become friends despite the age difference. She and Mutti had become close too, and Suzanne valued her advice with managing Joan.

  The weekly outing would be good for Mutti. Although she could go in to Liverpool on the bus whenever she wanted, Mutti wasn’t confident yet with her language skills and needed a push to get out on her own. She would really feel the isolation out on the farm. I was pleased that Suzanne would continue to go shopping with Mutti and spend the day conversing in English with her. It was one less thing to worry about.

  Moving day was long and filled with backbreaking work. Mutti, Claudia and the children helped move the smaller pieces. I’d spent hours working out the configuration of the space with Erich, so it was relatively easy to divide it into our rooms with wardrobes. But it was going to be tight.

  ‘How are you going to manage?’ asked Claudia.

  ‘We’ll be okay,’ I said. I moved a box of the children’s things onto their bunk beds.

  She glanced around at the unlined walls and concrete slab, her brows knitted into a worried frown. ‘How will you stay warm? It’s freezing. You have no electricity.’

  ‘We have a kerosene heater. It’ll do a good job. I’ve made thick curtains for the two windows and we still have our warm eiderdowns from Germany. You watch, it will be homely by the time I’m finished with it,’ I said, opening a box that I knew contained a floor rug. I rummaged round in it and pulled out the fluffy orange and red rug. I shook it out and placed it on the floor in the front area. ‘See, that looks better already, doesn’t it?’

  I knew exactly what she was saying but I was trying my hardest to be upbeat, so I couldn’t tell her my misgivings. I felt as if that would be a betrayal of Erich. I had to be positive, otherwise we might slide into despair.

  Claudia put her hand on my arm. ‘Any time you feel like it’s too much, please just come to us. You can stay with us for a while if you need to, at least until it’s warm enough for you to manage out here.’

  ‘We’ll be fine.’

  ‘The children are welcome to stay any time. They get on so well with Anna and Peter that they’re just like family. As are you and Erich.’

  I nodded, touched by her heartfelt words, and clasped her hand in thanks. They were wonderful friends, perhaps the best we’d ever had. We had been through so much together and they understood what it was like, but I would make this situation work. I wouldn’t make Erich feel any worse than he already did.

  ‘Thank you, Claudia. It means a lot to me. I’ll keep it in mind.’

  ‘How will you cook and wash? And the clothes? You have no running water.’

  I sighed. She wasn’t going to let this go. I supposed I wouldn’t either if it was my friend. ‘We have a camp stove that we’ll use for now. Our neighbour has agreed to let us use water from the hose in his yard until we get the water connected, which will be soon, and once the insurance money comes through we can begin on the house. It will all be worth it.’ The washing itself would be backbreaking work in buckets and hung out dripping on a line strung between two poles, but I would manage – I had to.

  ‘What if Erich can’t return to work? You’ve said yourself that his leg isn’t mending as it should and he’s still in a lot of pain. What will you do then?’

  This took the wind
from my sails and I fell into a chair, my hands over my face. ‘I don’t know. I can’t think too much about that or I’ll go mad and won’t have the strength to keep going.’ I looked up at her. ‘I have to do this. The farm will be a good place for Erich to recover and regain his strength. The girls love it here and I feel calm and happy. I can’t and won’t let everything we’ve worked so hard for just slip away.’

  Claudia nodded. ‘I understand. Just promise me you’ll come for dinner every week until Erich comes home. That’s one day less you have to cook on that stove.’

  ‘All right.’ I smiled. Claudia was a good cook and I would enjoy her meals and her company.

  I was touched by the thoughtfulness of our friends and acquaintances. Our move made me aware that we had developed a network of friends, people who were willing to support us and help us through the tough times. This was a new experience for me. Erich and I had always managed on our own, in spite of the odds, and had learnt to rely on each other, strong and independent. We were becoming part of a community and the ties felt good. I began to understand that we were stronger for it.

  By the end of the day, the fold-out lounge and armchairs sat in our makeshift living room, a little cramped around the coffee table. Thick beige curtains hung to each side of the glass panels and door, allowing sunlight to stream in, and the orange and red rug covered the cold, grey concrete and added warmth to the room. A small table and chairs intruded into the back half of the space, separated from the small kitchen by a couple of small bookshelves. The bedroom was partitioned off next to the kitchen, the wardrobes giving some privacy from the lounge room and kitchen areas.

  Over the following week we emptied the boxes and stacked the bookshelves with things that made a place home: books, photos and ornaments such as the elephant we had bought in Colombo. The radio held pride of place on one shelf and a vase stood on the coffee table. I filled it with wattle, clusters of fluffy yellow blooms bright against the soft bottle green of the vase. I was quite proud of our efforts.

  In the kitchen, the stove perched on top of the cupboard where we stored the utensils and crockery. A small esky filled with ice sat on the floor to one side of the cupboard, containing milk, butter and cheese. The small shed that Franz and Ernst had finished building housed the laundry and bathroom. When we had the electricity and plumbing hooked up we would have proper facilities, but for now it would do.