Suitcase of Dreams

by Tania Blanchard

  The corner lamp created a halo around her head, long silver braids still coiled neatly at the back. Just like an angel, I thought, my brain automatically seeking photographic opportunities.

  ‘It’s nothing,’ I said, lighting another cigarette with a quivering hand. I tried to smoke only at work but lately I’d started to smoke at night when Erich was away.

  ‘Erich’s a stubborn man, but surely you know he does what he does because he believes it’s right.’

  ‘I know,’ I said dully, looking out the window into the inky blackness.

  ‘I see how the two of you are together. You’re a true partnership. This brings you into conflict at times, but the honesty gives you the means to work through it. Don’t give up on him. You have a rare thing: a deep and abiding love for each other.’

  I nodded, tears filling my eyes. I put the cigarette out in the ashtray.

  ‘These men of ours will always cause us worry and trouble, but they’re men of principle, of passion, and that’s what we love about them.’

  ‘I know, but sometimes it’s such a struggle.’

  Her eyes narrowed. ‘You know he can look after himself. He’s always thinking one step ahead. He’s done it before and in much more dire circumstances.’

  ‘He promised me that it would be over after this Mount Isa crisis.’

  ‘Then trust him and know that the time will come when he’ll turn his focus back to home. When he returns fully to you, he’ll return empowered and whole, a man who feels he deserves the woman he loves. My husband never had the chance to return to me, and not a day goes by when I wonder what that would have been like.’ She smiled sadly.

  ‘You really believe it’s as simple as that?’

  ‘I do, and I have every faith in the two of you. You’ve raised two wonderful daughters who will grow to become strong women just like us, and they will have children who will only know the good life that this country will give them. Their future is beyond anything we could ever have imagined.’

  ‘I know that’s what Erich’s doing, trying to make things better for our children.’

  ‘You both are, in your own way. Don’t forget, I’m always here and you can talk to me.’

  ‘Thank you, Karoline,’ I said. Maybe it really was that simple. I felt like I could breathe for the first time in months and I couldn’t wait for Erich to come home.

  *

  Work was good for me. Keeping busy stopped the thoughts going round and round in my head, I was much requested for studio shoots and weddings and I found that I enjoyed teaching the new photographers what I had learnt during my training and through my years of experience. Sabine worked only occasionally now she had two small children, and Otto split his time between working with his father and working in Europe. I had given up the work at the Sydney studio as it had become too much to manage with the extra hours I was working.

  ‘Lotte, can I see you in my office for a moment?’ Reinhardt popped his head around the lunchroom door where I’d been making a coffee and finalising the roster for the weekend while waiting to talk to our newest girl about her photographic skills.

  ‘Of course.’ I’d been on my feet all day with back to back studio shoots made more difficult and prolonged by the sudden departure of one of the photographers going home sick and a few crying babies and toddlers that wouldn’t settle for their pictures. I stubbed out my cigarette and followed him into the office. ‘Is everything all right?’

  ‘Yes, yes. Sit down.’ He was still formal when it came to business and I sat across from him at the desk. ‘I wanted to talk to you about your duties. You’ve taken on a lot of extra responsibility these last months, really helping me out when I’ve been overseas with Otto.’

  ‘I’ve enjoyed it.’

  ‘I see that. Otto’s not here enough to run things efficiently like you can. I think he’s more interested in taking his photography in a creative direction but the studio work and weddings are our bread and butter.’

  I nodded, thinking about the conversations I’d had with Otto about the perspective of beauty. It was a subjective thing, something not easily translated from the eye of the beholder to the finished photograph. Painting was an interesting medium to explore this desire to express what I found beautiful. I had progressed from the basic classes in drawing to the more complex art of creating a lifelike scene using watercolours and oil paint. It was one thing to draw well, another to paint realistically. I enjoyed experimenting with colour, shading, perspectives in the fore, mid and background, something I couldn’t do with film. My background in photography helped, but I wondered if it also made it more difficult as I strove for the perfect finished canvas that was all too elusive. I had many conversations with my teacher about technique and style but I realised that the problem was that I wasn’t sure what I was trying to create or what I was trying to express.

  ‘We really wouldn’t manage without you and now I want to make it official. I’m promoting you to senior photographer. It comes with a substantial pay increase. You’ll be doing everything that you already have been – managing the junior staff, running the studio shoots and drawing up the roster for the weekend weddings.’

  My mouth dropped open in shock, and then all of a sudden I couldn’t stop smiling. ‘Thank you, Reinhardt. I won’t let you down.’ Finally I was being recognised for all the work I’d been doing and getting a pay rise. ‘Senior photographer’ had a lovely ring to it, too. It meant that I now had the top pick of the studio work and would attend only the highest profile or exclusive weddings on the weekends. After all the years of doubting that I’d ever work in the industry, here I was, virtually running the studio.

  ‘You deserve it. You’re a very fine photographer and you have a good head for business. We’re lucky to have you.’

  I reached across the desk and squeezed his hand. ‘You’re like family to us. Over the years we wouldn’t have managed without you, Otto and Sabine.’

  ‘Well it’s good to see that you’re finally on your feet and your family is doing well.’ He brushed his thick grey moustache with his hand. ‘I sometimes wonder that if my wife was still alive, whether Otto would have found a wife and settled down by now.’

  ‘Don’t worry. He’s still young. Maybe he hasn’t found the right girl yet.’

  ‘Time will tell.’ He nodded and smiled. ‘Well, I have two grandchildren waiting for me. Sabine’s invited me for dinner.’

  *

  It was April by the time there was some resolution of the Mount Isa situation.

  ‘I’ve done what I set out to do. I’m happy with that. Migrants have the same rights as Australian workers now, and there are enough delegates to fight for better wages and conditions for all workers,’ said Erich as we came up the driveway from our walk.

  ‘I’m very proud of you. You’ve made a difference, a better place for our children and for our grandchildren to grow up in.’ Wolfie came charging towards us, overjoyed that we were home.

  ‘It’s time for me to spend more time with you and the children before they grow up.’

  ‘There’s nothing more you want to do?’ I braced myself as the German Shepherd jumped up, large paws on my chest. I pushed Wolfie down and scratched behind his ear, his fur soft and warm, waiting for Erich’s reply.

  ‘I’m done, like I promised.’

  ‘Are you sure?’ I stared into his face but all I could see was determination and relief in his eyes.

  He nodded. ‘I am.’

  I hugged him, the fear I’d been holding on to for years draining away making me light-headed and giddy. He had seen his fight through and had returned to me.

  Now it was time to see if we could repair the rift between us.

  17

  Even with all the positive changes we’d witnessed, none of us were prepared for what was to come: Australia had officially committed itself to the Vietnam War. Civilian medical teams had already departed and military personnel were to follow. But what truly shocked us was the announcement
by Prime Minister Menzies in November 1964 that compulsory National Service was to be introduced. Apparently, Australia was no longer safe from the ‘aggressive communism’ that was trying to take hold in Southeast Asia and it needed more men to defend our shores. The idea that all young men would be subject to a ballot in the year they turned twenty and be bound for two years of military service – with an additional three years’ service with the Army Reserves – sparked widespread outrage.

  Not long after Erich had withdrawn from the union, Claudia and I were discussing the first results of the ballot in disbelief. The first group of conscripts would be sent to training camps by June.

  ‘We came here to protect our children,’ said Claudia, banging her coffee cup on the laminate table. She wore a cheery floral dress that showed off her ample bosom and a bright cardigan, perfect for the April weather, but she was anything but cheerful.

  ‘I never wanted my children to ever have anything to do with war, yet here we are.’ I couldn’t believe it. After all our efforts to come to a country that valued peace and our desire to become Australian citizens, now we’d sentenced our children to participate in a war that had nothing to do with us.

  ‘It’s like we’re back in Germany at the beginning of the war. These boys are called up against their will, but they’re not even old enough to vote. They’re still minors under our protection but we can’t protect them. How is that right?’

  ‘It’s not.’ What else could I say? These were boys, only nineteen years old. I was furious, feeling betrayed by the country I now called my own.

  ‘Peter’s only a child,’ she whispered, tears filling her eyes. ‘If this war isn’t over in two years, he could be called up.’

  I grasped her hand. ‘It has to be over by then. The Americans will make sure of that. And the conscripts aren’t being sent overseas – they’re being trained in the defence of our shores.’ I had to believe that this was where it would end, but a cold tendril of fear coiled in my belly. More troops had just been sent to Vietnam, so it certainly looked like Australia was scaling up its commitment to the Vietnam War, not just to prevent communism from reaching our shores but also to improve the relationship with America. By bringing us closer and making us an important ally, it seemed that Australia was losing its innocence. Everything we had come to love, the relaxed and laid-back atmosphere, the peace-loving attitude, its isolation from world troubles, was at risk of disappearing for good.

  ‘I know, but what if he has to go? It’s not like any war we’ve seen before. Nobody really knows what to expect. Even if Peter comes home alive, he’ll never be the same.’ Her eyes were wide with horror. We had both sent brothers off to war and knew the terrible reality young soldiers faced. Both my brothers had died, while Claudia’s brother had returned, only to die of his injuries. We had been fortunate not to watch brothers or husbands waste away in a sanitarium. My mother had had to watch my real father self-destruct after distinguished service in the Great War.

  ‘Surely it won’t come to that. If nothing else, the protests will give the government pause, once they see how opposed people are to conscription.’

  Claudia nodded. ‘I hope you’re right. Franz tells me not to worry too, but I hear how his uncle mutters under his breath that the army would do Peter the world of good, make him a man, and my anxiety soars again. You’ve seen what he’s like. Sometimes I want to kill that man with my bare hands.’ Her eyes narrowed. ‘I know he’s manipulated Franz, has him under his control somehow. I know something terrible happened to Franz during the war. He won’t talk about it, of course, but the nightmares have never stopped. In fact, they’re only getting worse. If I don’t get to the bottom of it, I’m afraid it will tear us apart.’ Tears filled her eyes.

  ‘Surely Ernst can’t hurt him now? He’s an old man, living on your generosity.’

  ‘Everything Ernst does is calculated, I can see it in his eyes. He’s almost indifferent to me and has very little to do with the children now, thankfully, but he does whatever he wants and continually gets his way, trying to sway Franz to his way of thinking.’

  ‘Franz doesn’t strike me as a man who gives in easily.’

  ‘He has a backbone of steel, even against Ernst when it really matters to him. They had an enormous argument when Franz went to work for the Berlowitz firm. “They’re Jews and known for their agitator and activist clients and their intrusion into international affairs,” Ernst told him. “Why don’t you work for one of the more prestigious established firms and focus on commercial law?” He certainly doesn’t like the civil rights principles that Franz feels so strongly about.’

  She smiled. ‘I might come across as the mild-mannered wife, but you know that my family is everything. I’ll fight for my husband and children, for our life here. Ernst’s presence constantly reminds Franz of his pain. Of that I’m sure. I’m determined to find out what’s happened between them, and I will. When I do, I’ll look for a way to get Ernst out of our lives once and for all.’

  ‘Is it that serious?’

  ‘It is. I can see my husband slowly withering in front of my eyes, torment eating away at him.’

  ‘Well, if there’s anything we can do to help you . . .’

  ‘I know, but I don’t think there’s anything you can do. Franz has to start talking to me. Otherwise I worry what will happen to him.’

  ‘Just remember that we’re here for you.’

  Why couldn’t things be easy for a change? We’d all tried so hard to escape the shackles of our past, the ghosts of wartime, but inevitably that past stayed with us, catching up with us when we least expected it.

  Erich’s ghosts, however, seemed to be laid to rest. He seemed more at ease having accomplished what he’d set out to do with the union. He’d even stopped talking about returning to Germany to live, although I knew how much he wanted to see his children and grandchildren. We would visit them as soon as we were able, but I was sure that Erich now considered Australia home. He was happy crafting furniture using many Australian timbers, and had settled easily into a routine without the interruptions of his union work. The furniture business was starting to do well, and he now had a constant stream of work and money coming in. My relief was enormous. It paved the way for an easier relationship and the return of honest, open communication that I’d previously taken for granted.

  Erich had his back to me, leaning over the work bench. He’d been cutting timber and I could smell the rich, resinous perfume of the wood. I took a deep breath in. The sight in front of me was wonderful: Erich’s back muscles taut cords against the thin white cotton of his shirt as he worked to perfectly match the contrasting timbers he was using in the front of a cocktail cabinet. My eye was drawn down the graceful line of his back. Booted feet planted squarely on the floor supported strong, muscular bare legs. He was a man who had a solid connection to the earth, both grounded in reality and linked to the creativity of nature. I admired and envied this gift he had.

  He turned, aware of my eyes on him, and smiled.

  ‘How are you going?’ I asked. ‘Are you ready for lunch?’

  ‘Give me another fifteen minutes. I just want to finish these front panels.’ He straightened up, bending back a few times to take the stiffness out of his spine. I kissed his neck, which smelled of wood shavings, and peered over his shoulder at the design taking shape on the bench.

  ‘Cedar?’ I enquired. I loved the rich red lustre of the timber Erich often used as a contrast.

  Erich nodded. ‘I’ve decided to use the Australian red cedar. It’s more durable than the western red.’

  My gaze drifted to the partially completed cabinet made from silver ash. Erich’s sense of precision was what made the differing patterns of timber so breathtaking. He enjoyed making pieces that were stylish and elegant, eye-catching in their own way, but still functional and made to last a lifetime. ‘It’ll be exquisite when you’ve finished,’ I murmured.

  ‘I hope the client likes it.’ He sighed, rubbing his thig
h and knee. ‘It’s a fine balance to walk, especially when you throw in the client’s requirements.’ He smiled ruefully, but I could see the pride in his eyes.

  Erich deserved success and the accolades that came with it. There weren’t many furniture makers like him.

  ‘I have no doubt they’ll love it,’ I replied. ‘The girls are out and your mother is being picked up after lunch to go to her book club. We’ll have the house to ourselves for the afternoon.’

  Erich put his arms around me and kissed me. ‘That sounds promising. I think I might have to take the afternoon off.’ His voice was throaty with desire and I shivered with anticipation at the rare delight of an afternoon on our own.

  *

  Later that afternoon, lying in bed next to Erich, languid and replete, I was aware of simple pleasures: my arm resting lazily across his chest, feeling its rhythmic rise and fall; the soft breeze from the open windows caressing my naked skin; the mellow glow of the afternoon sun as it fell dappled against the bedroom wall. We were suspended in a state of grace, far removed from the ordinary world. It was wonderful to look at him at leisure and in the daylight, taking in the lines of his body, the hard planes and smooth skin, the creases and folds that told a thousand words and the scars that reminded me of his accident and hard-won recovery.

  We were both getting older. I slid my hand over my belly, wondering about the possibilities of falling pregnant and having a child at my age. At forty, I knew the chances were remote, and if I were honest with myself, I’d moved past the stage of nappies and bottles – and yet that desire hadn’t completely diminished. Now that we had found our feet, I knew Erich would accept another child with joy, but I wasn’t sure it was the right thing for me any more.

  ‘I’m glad we can be close like this again,’ I said. ‘I wondered if we’d ever get back to what we were.’ He had always been the only one for me – my best friend and my lover.