Suitcase of Dreams

by Tania Blanchard

  ‘Peter told you that?’ The noise of the café had dropped away to a distant hum.

  She nodded sadly. ‘It’s a widespread problem. Peter’s stayed in touch with many of the boys he served with. Some of them have been told that they can’t join the RSL because they didn’t fight in a “real” war.’

  ‘What, like our war?’

  She nodded again. ‘It’s disgraceful. So while our work with the SOS isn’t done until conscription is banned, I think someone needs to do something to help these soldiers be accepted for their service and settle back into civilian life.’

  ‘I wonder who that might be,’ I said, raising my eyebrows.

  Claudia laughed. ‘I’m not the only one. There’s a group of us wanting to set things in motion and Peter and some of his army friends want to get involved too.’

  ‘Maybe it’s a good way for him to heal,’ I said.

  ‘I think so,’ she said softly. ‘Now, tell me about Greta. How’s she going in Bien Hoa? When are they bringing her home?’

  *

  The day before Christmas I found Erich down by the river. He was sitting on a sandstone boulder overlooking the water, a letter from Greta in his hands. It was quiet and serene here, the perfect place to think, to become whole again. You wouldn’t know that houses existed just over the rise. We rarely had time to go to the Abercrombie these days with the amount of work we had.

  ‘I wondered where you got to,’ I said lightly, sitting beside him.

  ‘Just clearing my head.’

  ‘Everything’s done for tonight. Johanna and Mutti have just put up the tree. Tommy and Suzanne and the children will be here at half-past six.’

  He nodded absently.

  ‘It’ll be strange not to have Greta home at all over Christmas.’ I listened to the rustle of leaves as the breeze gently caressed the tops of the trees. I held my breath, hoping he’d talk to me.

  ‘It won’t be the same without her,’ he murmured.

  I kissed his shoulder and leant against him. ‘She’ll be home for next Christmas.’ I had to believe that, believe that no harm would come to her. She hadn’t managed to write recently, but given how busy she’d sounded, I didn’t really expect she’d be able to.

  Erich grasped my hand then, hard, like he was hanging on to a lifeline. ‘You were right. I can’t protect her any more. She has to make her own decisions, but I still don’t like it.’

  ‘Neither do I,’ I said. ‘I’m not only worried about her safety but . . . we both know what war can do.’

  ‘It’ll change her forever. I know that for a fact.’

  ‘You couldn’t have stopped her. She has that same fire burning in her that you have – she has to help people in need. Both the girls do, they just express it in different ways.’

  ‘Why couldn’t she have found another way to express it? Something closer to home, something less dangerous?’

  ‘She’s her father’s daughter.’

  Erich’s head was bowed, his face contorted with the pain and grief he’d been holding on to for the last few months. ‘I never wanted this for her.’

  ‘I know, my darling, neither of us did.’

  He broke then, racked with silent sobs as I wrapped my arms around him and cried too, for him, and for Greta.

  22

  Five months later, we finally received the letter that gave us hope that Greta would soon be home, but it wasn’t the letter I’d been expecting, or a letter I’d wanted to read.

  16th May, 1972

  Dearest Mutti, Vati and Grossmama,

  It was so good to hear that you’re all well. I can’t believe that Johanna’s working in the country now! But she’s always been a country girl at heart. Just watch that some farmer doesn’t sweep her off her feet! I’m sorry that she and Peter didn’t work out. Maybe it’s for the best.

  Nothing’s really changed here and yet everything has. The fighting is on our doorstep, with the American base nearby being a major target of the Viet Cong. It’s harder than ever to get supplies after the withdrawal of US and Australian troops. There are fewer soldiers than before and our security measures have been tightened considerably.

  We’ve been given M16 assault rifles and other weapons to use to defend the hospital, if it comes to that. I was told that I was a natural by the American soldier who was training us to use them.

  There’s a curfew in place and we’ve been advised to stay off the highway to Saigon at night and during the afternoon siesta period. Our accommodation has moved nearer the American base and we’re taken to and from work in armoured personnel carriers. Apparently, time-delay rockets have been placed in strategic positions by the Viet Cong targeting the US base and we’ve been woken early in the morning to the sound of them detonating, the walls around us shaking and pulling us out of our beds in panic. We’ve heard explosions near the hospital too – some of the hospital windows have been shattered by the blasts.

  None of this stops us from doing our work. If anything, we have more patients than ever as the battles rage so close by. We’re all afraid of when and where the next explosion will be, but we know the hospital won’t be targeted as we treat any who walk through our doors, including the Viet Cong and their sympathisers. All we can do is keep together and focus on the injured in front of us – the people who need us – and this brings us the strength and coolheadedness that we need to keep going.

  I skipped ahead to the end, not wanting to know any more details of the danger she was in.

  If all goes well, I’ll be coming home soon but none of us knows when that will be.

  The lights are out tonight and my candle has burnt to a stub. It’s time for me to say goodnight.

  All my love,

  Greta xxx

  Erich pulled me tight to him. We were sitting in bed. It was late but neither of us could have waited to read her letter.

  ‘We both knew it would probably come to this,’ I whispered. I couldn’t stop shaking.

  ‘We both survived the war, my liebling, and she will too. It won’t be long before she’s home again.’

  I nodded, praying that he was right. I leant against him, the soft flannelette of his pyjamas and the warmth of his body soothing me.

  ‘Let’s plan a party for her return, a few weeks after she arrives. We’ll make sure Johanna can come home.’

  ‘That sounds nice,’ I said, trying to pull myself together. I knew how much Erich missed his daughters. He’d been writing regularly to them both. It was strange to have an empty house without laughter, loud voices, music blaring from the bedroom and even, dare I say, arguing.

  Greta arrived home in June. It was the most wonderful moment when I held her in my arms.

  ‘Welcome home, my darling,’ I whispered, not wanting to let go. Our tears mingled, wet on our cheeks.

  ‘It’s so good to see you, Mutti.’

  Then she was in her father’s arms. Erich hugged her tight, fierce pride shining in his eyes, and she sagged against him, drawing comfort from his touch. She knew things were good between them again. Mutti embraced Greta and kissed her multiple times, and I noticed how tiny she was compared to her granddaughter. She was getting older, in her seventies now, and was home on her own too much, but I’d been taking her into Liverpool with me some days. She had gradually re-established the friendships she’d made and, in this way, began to face the loss of Rudi. She’d even started helping Hilde in her cake-decorating business, doing her accounts and administrative work.

  ‘Come on, let’s get you home,’ I said, taking Greta’s arm. ‘Johanna will be waiting for us by the time we get back. I know she’s dying to see you.’ I kissed her on the cheek and hugged her again. She was thin and angular from the long hours of hard work and the stress, but she was real. I wanted to feed her up with the foods she loved and hold her hand while she told the stories I knew she had to tell.

  I’d roasted a duck and a leg of pork and served them with baked vegetables, potato gratin, peas with bacon and cauliflower wi
th white sauce. For dessert, we had trifle. The girls regaled us with stories of their time away and it was just like it had always been. It was wonderful to have both our daughters under the same roof again.

  ‘So, any man in your life?’ Greta asked cheekily, her face flushed from the wine and her dessert bowl scraped clean.

  ‘Greta, is that any question to ask in front of your parents?’ admonished Mutti, although I could see that she was just teasing.

  ‘Oh, I didn’t mean you, Grossmama,’ replied Greta with a look of horrified innocence on her face. ‘I was asking Johanna. Although if you’ve got something to tell me, you’d better come out with it. Obviously I’ve been away for too long.’ She grinned mischievously at her grandmother. We all laughed. Nobody else could have gotten away with saying something like that to Mutti.

  Mutti slapped Greta playfully with her serviette. ‘A lady never divulges her secrets,’ she said with as much dignity as she could. ‘You know I’m past it now. I just live for the details of the love lives of my granddaughters!’

  ‘There, there, Grossmama,’ crooned Greta, patting her grandmother’s hand. ‘We’d better give you something exciting to keep you going, then. Come on, Johanna, give us all the gory details.’

  I held my breath for a second, watching Mutti’s face, but she continued to smile, indulging Greta’s wicked humour. It had been difficult for her since Rudi’s death and I knew that she missed him terribly. She had almost always had a man by her side and now she was on her own, I had noticed some of the spark had gone out of her.

  Johanna had turned beetroot red. She squirmed uncomfortably in her chair, all eyes on her. She and Peter had broken up about eight months earlier but remained close friends. I knew she continued to support him by going to his concerts when she could and helping with his veterans work. Now I suspected she’d moved on a lot more quickly than I’d thought she might.

  ‘Well, actually, I have met someone.’ She twisted the serviette in her hands. ‘He’s a farmer and his name is James. His parents own a big property not far from where I work.’

  Erich looked at me in surprise, his wine glass to his mouth, and I shook my head imperceptibly. I didn’t know either.

  ‘So when are we going to meet him?’ asked Mutti.

  ‘Maybe next time I come home,’ Johanna said, smiling radiantly. Ah, there it was. This was no ordinary romance. I had never seen her glow like this with Peter.

  ‘We look forward to meeting him when the time comes,’ I said, passing the trifle to Greta.

  ‘What about you?’ asked Mutti, watching her oldest granddaughter add another spoonful to her bowl. ‘There was a young man at the airport when you left and there again when you returned.’ She raised her eyebrow, taking the trifle from Greta. Johanna hadn’t been able to tell us much about him after Greta left, except that his name was Jonathan, he was a doctor at the hospital and that they’d been friends for some time.

  ‘We’ll have to see,’ said Greta. ‘I’ll let you know if there’s anything to tell.’ She was suddenly very interested in her bowl.

  Erich held my hand under the table, hiding his smile behind his serviette while pretending to wipe his mouth. It was as it should be. Our girls were grown up, we both knew that, but I hoped these young men were worthy of them both.

  Greta spent some time with us at home. Generally, she slept long into the morning after a late night and restless sleep. She and Mutti walked and talked until midday, when Erich made sure he’d come in to have lunch with them. In the afternoon, Greta would help her father in the workshop, bonding with him again and finding familiar and comfortable territory after the way things had been left between them. I got home as soon as I could after an early morning start and often the two of us would walk down to the river before dinner.

  Slowly Greta lost the haggardness in her face, her eyes began to sparkle and the haunted expression came less frequently. She was jumpy, starting violently at loud noises and bangs, and one day she dived to the floor, hiding behind the solid protection of the timber-framed lounge after a car backfired down the road. It was distressing, but it was behaviour Erich, Mutti and I had seen before and had experienced ourselves.

  ‘I have to go back to work,’ she said one afternoon after being home about a month. We were on the verandah about to go down to the river.

  ‘You don’t have to do that yet, my darling,’ I said, smoothing the wisps of dark hair from her face.

  ‘I can’t mope around here all day. It doesn’t help.’

  ‘It’s too soon. Give yourself time. After the experience you’ve had, you need time to heal.’

  ‘Mutti, I don’t think any amount of time will make this go away.’ Her eyes were dark with trouble.

  ‘Nightmares?’ I’d heard her call out in the night a number of times. Mothers were always light sleepers when their children were nearby.

  She nodded.

  ‘You can always come in and wake me,’ I said.

  ‘I know, but it’s not only that. You see how I jump at any little noise.’ She shook her head as if frustrated by her own reactions. ‘It takes me straight back to those moments.’

  ‘It’s normal.’ I took her arm and we walked across the gravel driveway to the dirt track. Cockatoos squawked as they flew overhead, no doubt on their way to join the others decimating the tops of our pine trees.

  ‘I know, Mutti, but sometimes even knowing that doesn’t help. You and Vati and Grossmama understand, she told me about your real father . . .’ She looked at me from the corner of her eye.

  I smiled sadly and shrugged. ‘It was a long time ago, but Grossmama was right to tell you. He suffered after the war, and maybe it was the reason my parents divorced, but that kind of trauma wasn’t talked about then and wasn’t accepted – it’s different now. That’s why if you can talk about it, perhaps we can help.’

  We were surrounded by eucalypt green like the sanctuary of a Catholic confessional. I kissed her cheek. I wanted so desperately to protect her and help her through her pain.

  ‘It’s hard. So overwhelming. Now all I want to do is get back to normal, live my life and forget, at least for a while . . . let the horrors recede. Maybe then it won’t be so painful, so difficult to bear.’

  She looked at me with such a look of despair that my heart clenched. This was what I’d been afraid of. I didn’t want her to withdraw from us because we kept pushing her. How could we help her? I didn’t want to lose her.

  ‘Maybe you’re right. A normal life might be what you need right now. Just remember that Vati and I are here for you. We won’t ask questions but you can talk to us about anything, any time.’ Erich and I had seen the best and worst of humans as well. We understood how she might be suffering. The experiences were still painful to remember, but we hoped that the knowledge would help her realise she wasn’t alone.

  Greta nodded and sighed. ‘Thanks, Mutti. I’ve spoken to the hospital. I can start there in a couple of weeks.’

  I tried to smile brightly. ‘Then we’d better have that welcome home party before you leave.’

  ‘That would be nice.’ She hesitated. ‘I know that you and Vati delayed your trip to Europe because of me—’

  ‘It’s all right, darling.’

  ‘No, let me finish.’ She put her hands on my shoulders, the look of earnestness on her face breaking my heart. ‘I want you to go. Do it before the weather turns cold over there. I’m going back to work. I’ll manage fine, and Grossmama and Johanna are here if I need them. You won’t be gone long anyway.’

  ‘Greta, I don’t think—’

  ‘Mutti, please. You and Vati have waited long enough. If there’s something I’ve learnt, it’s that life’s too short. Go and see Eva, Walter and the kids. You know how happy it will make Vati. Go and have a romantic few days in Paris with him. You both deserve it and it will lift my spirits to know that you’ve gone. Promise me.’

  Her brown eyes were so filled with determination, just like her father’s, that I couldn�
��t say no.

  ‘All right, I promise.’

  ‘Good, I’ll hold you to it.’ She smiled sweetly and I kissed her on the forehead.

  ‘We have a bit of organising to do. Let’s work out what we need for your party first of all.’

  Johanna came home with James for the party and Greta was in high spirits, mingling with her friends, including the mysterious Jonathan, and with old family friends too. It was as if now she could celebrate being home, alive, safe and in one piece, as if what she’d experienced had taught her to live life to the fullest and appreciate any opportunity for joy. I remembered how that felt and I knew that Erich did too, because I caught him watching her with an odd gleam in his eye.

  ‘Do you remember throwing caution to the wind and living life with such abandon because tomorrow might never come?’ he whispered in my ear at the end of the night as we walked to the river in the moonlight, leaving the young ones to continue to celebrate.

  ‘I remember,’ I said, the memory of it inflaming my desire. Erich let go of my hand and his arm snaked around my waist, pulling me tight.

  The truth was that I still felt that way about Erich – it was how we both felt about each other. There was a bond between us, as if we were two parts of one whole, always better when we were together. We were unstoppable and could even make what seemed impossible, possible.

  ‘I think we’re better now than we were back then.’

  He was right. Everything we’d been through had brought us to this point. Our love was so much deeper and richer than I could ever have imagined. He kissed my throat and I melted in his arms.

  ‘I think we should go back,’ I whispered, feeling his need against my belly.

  ‘No, it’s closer to the river.’ He grabbed my hand again and led me, laughing, to our boulder.

  The river below was a sinuous ribbon of silver. The gums on the opposite bank stood like ghostly sentinels in the moonlight, whispering their lullaby to the river, weaving the magic of the night around us.