Suitcase of Dreams

by Tania Blanchard

  ‘At least a couple of years, maybe more,’ she said, her brown eyes soft. ‘I know it’s terrible timing with Vati, but I couldn’t turn down the opportunity. Besides, I need a change, a new environment and new challenges . . . after Vietnam. I’m hoping it’ll give me the chance I need to start fresh and heal away from the people who remind me of what I’ve done and where I’ve been.’ She looked at her hands, trembling on her lap. ‘I want to forget, Mutti.’

  I jumped up from my seat, throwing my arms around her to hug her tight. ‘Go, my darling, and be happy. You’re too young to refuse opportunity and later regret it. Live your life to the fullest. That’s what Vati would want you to do.’ I drew away and smoothed the hair from her face.

  ‘Are you sure, Mutti?’

  ‘I’m sure. Just stay in touch, and write or call me as often as you can. I want to know how you are – how you’re going.’

  Greta nodded, wiping her tears with the back of her hand. ‘Maybe you can come and visit us next Christmas,’ she said.

  ‘That sounds like a good idea,’ I said, kissing the top of her head. I turned to Jonathan and saw the anxiety easing from his features. ‘You’d better look after my daughter and treat her right or you’ll have to deal with me.’ I was sure they would live together, but after everything we’d each been through, I had no quarrel with them living unmarried. They were adults and they were happy. The rest would come if it was meant to.

  ‘Of course,’ said Jonathan quietly. ‘I love Greta and I can’t imagine my life without her. I waited for her to come back from Vietnam and I’ll never let her out of my sight again.’

  ‘Good,’ I said. ‘Now, you’d better go and tell Johanna and Grossmama your plans.’

  I was happy for them but all I could think about was how Erich must have felt to have his two children on the other side of the world. They never got to see their father again, nor he them. We would’ve been with them on the day of his funeral. Although I’d written brief letters to them, I knew I had to sit down to write something more. I’d collected some of their father’s things and, one day when I was ready, I wanted to take that trip we’d planned, see his children and grandchildren and give them those few precious mementoes. Maybe Greta’s decision and my promise to visit her would be just the push I’d need to go.

  1973

  It was April and I was restless. With Greta gone and Johanna in the country, Mutti and I rattled around the house. A number of her boxes remained unpacked in the corner of the spare bedroom, so we finally opened them one Sunday afternoon. Mutti was ready to face her memories and past.

  ‘Look,’ she said, pulling out Heinrich’s photo, as I opened the beige curtains. ‘I’d forgotten I had that.’ She smiled. ‘It’s one of my favourite photos, one that you took in Germany. You really captured Heinrich’s essence.’

  ‘Yes, it is a good one,’ I agreed, looking over her shoulder. ‘I carried that photo around with me after he left for Poland the last time.’

  ‘Why don’t you get back in touch with him?’ she suggested. ‘I’m sure he’d love to hear from you. He always asks after you at Christmas.’

  ‘No, I don’t think so,’ I said quickly. ‘It was so long ago . . .’ I turned, hearing steps on the back verandah and then a knock at the back door, feeling grateful for the interruption.

  I was delighted to discover Johanna and James at the door.

  ‘What a surprise!’ I exclaimed, hugging Johanna tightly and kissing James on the cheek. ‘What brings you up to Sydney?’

  ‘Some of our clients have cattle and sheep coming up to the Easter Show and I’ve been given the job to check that they arrive safely and settle in before judging. But they don’t arrive until tomorrow and James and I managed to get a few days to look around the show before we head home.’

  ‘We’ve got some of our merino sheep coming up tomorrow as well,’ said James, smiling. ‘It was perfect timing and I can give Jo a hand.’ He was beaming, large green eyes lit up with excitement.

  ‘Sit down and I’ll make you some coffee and I’ll tell Grossmama that you’re here.’

  They insisted on helping with the last of the furniture that Mutti and I were moving to make space for a few of Erich’s pieces, and found the old photo albums I had tucked away in the bottom of the buffet.

  ‘When were these taken?’ asked Johanna, settling into the soft fabric of the lounge and opening the ageing book carefully.

  Bittersweet emotions washed over me. I sat next to her, not sure my legs would hold me up, and placed my arm on the timber armrest. I gazed at the images of a relaxed, younger Erich smiling back at me, lying in a meadow of wildflowers. It was a day I’d never forget.

  ‘I took these the day that the war ended. Your father and I were on our way to Grossmama’s sister’s house.’

  ‘I remember the stories you’ve told Greta and me about those days and how tough things were after the war . . . Why don’t you tell James about how you met Vati and had to run away from Munich and the Americans?’

  I hesitated in answering, not sure if I was ready to speak about Erich.

  Johanna took my arm and kissed my cheek. ‘Come on, Mutti, you love telling those stories, and I know James would love to hear. I want to hear them again too,’ she said softly.

  My gaze drifted across to the wood and chrome standing ashtray that still graced the side of the lounge Erich used to sit in. The nest of side tables that he’d made stood in front of it, topped with a single red grevillea in a tiny frosted vase.

  ‘It’s all right, Jo,’ said James, placing his hand on Johanna’s shoulder. ‘Maybe your mother doesn’t want to talk about it now.’

  She nodded, blinking tears away, but the disappointment showed on her face as she gazed at the photos. I knew that she needed to hear those stories again, to bring her closer to her father and to help James understand her family and where she came from. I just had to bring myself to tell them without ripping open wounds that were still so fresh.

  ‘Of course I’ll tell you,’ I said slowly, leaning back on the cushions and praying that I would hold it together.

  ‘Amazing,’ said James softly when I was done. ‘I could never have imagined what you and Erich went through. Things are tough on the land but that is something else entirely.’

  ‘I know – it’s hard to imagine, isn’t it? Vati only occasionally spoke about life in Germany but one story he used to always tell was the day I was born. What’s really stayed with me is how difficult things were.’

  ‘I don’t know what your father told you, but your birth was one of the best days of my life,’ I said, smoothing the blonde strands from her face as I used to do when she was a child.

  ‘You would say that, Mutti, but how Vati told it was that it was the coldest winter day of the year, with heavy snow falls. He was at work when you went into labour and you had nobody to fetch the midwife.’

  ‘That’s right. It was so cold that ice formed on top of the milk. I didn’t even have time to start the fire, that’s how quickly you came.’ I smiled at the memory, but at the time I was alone and had Greta to care for and had been worried that something would go wrong. ‘All I could do was bundle Greta up in warm clothes and put her in the playpen. She wouldn’t stop crying and eventually cried herself to sleep. Then Vati arrived home just after you were born. You were an angel, perfect and no trouble.’ I cupped her cheek. ‘And you still are.’

  ‘Who’s perfect?’ asked Mutti, coming into the room.

  ‘Jo, apparently,’ said James, teasing her.

  ‘Ah, well, she’s always been the sensible and quiet one,’ said Mutti, sitting on a lounge chair. ‘Greta’s the one who needed watching, Johanna was easy.’

  ‘I’m so proud of you both,’ I said. ‘You had the courage to follow your dream of becoming a vet in a country practice and what about the work you’ve been doing with war veterans? I know I say that Greta’s so much like your father, but you are too. He was so proud.’

  ‘And like you
, Mutti.’ Johanna grasped my hand. ‘You’ve both always been so passionate and worked hard towards what you believed in, no matter what anyone else thinks. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do.’

  ‘I’m so lucky to have you.’

  ‘See? I am perfect.’ She smiled sweetly at James before turning to my mother. ‘Mutti was just telling us about the day I was born.’

  ‘She was on her own,’ said Mutti, regret flitting across her face.

  I reached across and squeezed her hand. ‘It all worked out well in the end, Mutti.’

  ‘Vati told the story differently,’ persisted Johanna. ‘He said that you managed everything on your own and it was because of your level head that everything went well. If you hadn’t brought the wood in to start the fire, there would have been no fire because the logs outside were too damp to get one going.’

  I shrugged. ‘Something took over and I knew what I had to do.’

  ‘Not only that, but when Vati arrived home, it was quiet and he tip-toed into the bedroom, thinking Greta and you were both sleeping, and found you sitting up in bed just like you’d had an afternoon nap. He didn’t see me at first, wrapped up in the crib, and when he did, he was shocked that it’d happened so fast and that you were alone.’

  ‘After it was over and you were safely in my arms, I felt like the tallest woman in the world, that I could do anything.’

  ‘Vati said much the same thing. He’d always known what a strong and capable woman you were but in that moment he realised that you could do anything you set your mind to. He said that he’d never been so proud to have you by his side—’ Her voice broke and she bent her head.

  Tears filled my eyes too. It was a memory I’d treasure forever, the four of us together in that room, my family safe and well, a moment of total bliss.

  ‘He said that he thanked God every day for you.’

  ‘Oh, Johanna,’ I said, my trembling hand across my mouth and tears running freely down my face.

  ‘I miss him so much, Mutti,’ she whispered.

  I pulled her to me and hugged her tight. ‘I do too.’

  ‘He was a good man,’ said Mutti.

  I glanced at her. It wasn’t an admission that came easily to her and something I’d heard only a handful of times. I realised that Erich’s loss had affected her too. She looked older, more worn, and sadder. She’d known so much loss. And I’d put her though more worry than I should have.

  ‘Grosspapa had a saying about your father. He said that even if he only had the dirt under his fingernails, he would make something of that. Your Vati always found a way to make the best of what he had. He only ever wanted the best for you and your sister and your mother.’ Mutti looked at me, blue eyes filled with remorse. ‘He loved you all with his whole being. In the end, he was able to give you the life he’d always wanted to and he’d found the real success that he deserved.’

  ‘I know, Grossmama.’ Johanna looked at Mutti with an expression of mingled pride and sadness. ‘It’s because of Vati and Mutti that Greta and I’ve been able to do the things we want.’ She took James’s hand and interlaced her fingers with his, smiling at him wistfully. ‘I remember living in Germany in a little village where life was very simple. My parents came to Australia to give us a better life, with nothing but determination, their dreams and hopes. When they first arrived and found that everything they’d been told was a lie, they stood up for what they saw were injustices. They really believed in the future of this country – see what they’ve accomplished? Despite their misfortune, they educated Greta and me, we have a beautiful home and both of them have been successful in business.’

  ‘Why you stayed, I’ll never know,’ said Mutti, shaking her head. ‘But you did.’

  ‘It’s all been worth it. Both of you girls are happy and have the world at your feet. That’s all Vati and I wanted for you.’

  ‘I love your stories,’ said James. ‘Thank you for sharing them with me.’

  I could see that he understood how hard it had been for us to talk about Erich. He was perceptive and sensitive – a good match for Johanna.

  ‘Don’t worry,’ said Johanna. ‘I’ve heard them a thousand times and I’m sure Mutti will tell my children too. If you stick around, you might be lucky enough to hear them again.’ She grinned, pushing against him with her shoulder, but he just grinned back. They were definitely smitten.

  24

  October 1973

  Mutti was meeting one of Rudi’s sisters in the city and begged me to join her, because she was feeling a little unwell with a headache but didn’t want to cancel. Although they had a good relationship, I knew she was nervous. She still struggled with anything connected with Rudi but now I sympathised with her, understanding how hard it could be – it was a little over a year since Erich’s death.

  They’d decided to meet at the café in the Botanic Gardens in the city. Mutti and I arrived first, taking a table with a lovely view out over the gardens. It was a glorious day, warm enough for short sleeves, and I was looking forward to wandering through the grounds afterwards and along the harbour to view the Opera House at Bennelong Point.

  As I fiddled with my eternity ring, wondering what Erich would have thought about the new Opera House, I noticed a man walk in. He was tall, tanned and blond, and something about him seemed familiar. Turning my head to look at him properly, I froze.

  I stared at the man as he approached us. He looked worried, as if he was searching for someone, then his eyes fell on Mutti and he frowned as if trying to place her, before his face cleared and he smiled with recognition.

  ‘Amelia?’

  Mutti looked up at the man in astonishment. ‘Heinrich? Is it really you?’

  The man nodded.

  ‘Fancy seeing you here!’ She stood and they hugged.

  I felt sick to my stomach and beads of perspiration broke out on my forehead, despite the cool breeze coming in through the open windows. Time stood still as the murmur of conversation and clatter of crockery and cutlery faded into the background.

  ‘What a coincidence! Please sit and join us,’ said Mutti, gesturing to the empty chair.

  ‘All right. Just for a minute. I can’t stay long.’

  ‘What brings you here?’ asked Mutti.

  ‘I’m in Sydney for a few days of meetings before flying to Canberra to meet with the Minister for Health.’

  Heinrich looked into my eyes and I was transported back thirty years. He was older, fine lines creasing the corners of his eyes when he smiled, worry lines on his forehead and around his mouth and his blond hair streaked with grey, but his eyes were the same bright blue and with the twinkle that I remembered.

  ‘Hello, Lotte,’ he said softly. ‘It’s been a long time.’

  ‘Hello, Heinrich,’ I replied, my mouth as dry as the sands of the outback. I felt hot too, my cheeks burning with embarrassment, and I wanted nothing more than to shrivel up and disappear. I didn’t like to be surprised like this.

  ‘Sydney’s a beautiful city,’ he said.

  ‘Your first time here?’ I managed to say. My shock aside, good manners demanded that I speak.

  ‘Yes and I was very excited to come. Your mother’s told me so much about Australia.’ He smiled and Mutti patted his hand affectionately. ‘I look forward to a little sight-seeing around Sydney. Maybe you can suggest where to go and what to see?’

  ‘Don’t you have people to organise all that for you?’ I asked, smiling sweetly, controlling the surge of anger that raced through me. I doubted this was a coincidental meeting at all. I was furious with Mutti for her deception, and with Heinrich too. Part of me wanted to get up and leave immediately but another part of me was curious about him and what his life had been like since we last parted.

  ‘Of course, but I thought that a local like yourself would have a much better idea of what’s worthwhile to see in the limited time that I have.’

  ‘I’ll have to put some serious thought into it and let you know,’ I said somewhat ungrac
iously.

  ‘Thank you, Lotte,’ said Heinrich easily, ignoring my tone. ‘Anything will be a help.’

  I stared at the view, trying to take in its serenity.

  ‘Let’s order some coffee,’ said Mutti. ‘Natalia can order when she arrives.’ She didn’t meet my eye, and I wondered if Rudi’s sister was meeting us at all.

  The coffee and cake helped, giving me something to do other than twisting the serviette in my lap, as well as the energy I needed to get over my shock.

  We stayed talking for about an hour, catching each other up on the main events of our lives, filling the awkward gaps with small talk. Heinrich had three children, two boys and a girl, all either working or at university. He lived on his own after going through a divorce and there was nobody special in his life. It was strange, at times it felt like the years apart had disappeared and at others it felt like the distance of time and events made us total strangers.

  ‘I’m so sorry to hear about Erich,’ said Heinrich quietly after Mutti got up to go to the bathroom. I stiffened in my seat. ‘I always admired you as a couple. I know how much you loved each other. I suppose I always wanted the kind of love you shared, but I never had that with my wife . . . In the end, it wasn’t enough for either of us. I regretted not being able to give her what she wanted and the years we lost trying to make it work, but she’s finally happy now.’

  ‘Thank you. I’m sorry that you’ve had such a difficult time too.’ I was surprised that he was opening up to me like this, unsure if I felt flattered or uncomfortable. Heinrich and Erich had always been jealous of each other.

  ‘It was my own fault, I suppose. Besides, I have three beautiful children. Here, I have a photo of them.’ He pulled out his wallet and found the photo. It wasn’t recent but showed three children smiling happily in a studio shoot.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ I said, kindly. ‘Whoever took this did a good job of getting them all to smile and make it look natural.’