Suitcase of Dreams

by Tania Blanchard

My mother’s thunderous look stopped me in my tracks. It was no use continuing with her.

  ‘Fine, we’ll see what Vati says.’

  I stomped up the stairs to my room and slammed the door. Already I was thinking how I would intercept my father before my mother could speak with him. I flopped on my bed, feeling deflated. After spending three years with artists, scholars and patriots and a year before that in Hamburg completing my land year helping on the local farms, I had learnt more about myself than I had in the previous fifteen years of privileged upbringing and stiff social conventions. I desperately wanted to be a photojournalist and follow in my beloved brothers’ footsteps by joining the Luftwaffe taking photos for the military, recording the lives of the soldiers. When I was feeling especially patriotic and daring, I dreamed of going to the front as a photographic officer, taking photos of strategic importance, even getting involved in reconnaissance.

  I reached for the photo on my nightstand of my two handsome brothers. It was taken the last holiday we all spent together – the last holiday before the war. We had been swimming in the lake and our bare limbs were browned from the days outdoors, our hair bleached white from the sun. My brothers were tall, strapping youths with easy dispositions, their lives in front of them. I missed them so much.

  My oldest brother, Ludwig, was a pilot. He had died on the Eastern Front in Stalingrad, shot down by the Russians nine months earlier, only twenty-one. He was my idol. Tall, strong, handsome, with a winning smile that would melt any heart; he was the perfect pin-up boy, a soldier who embodied everything good that Germany stood for. I had thought he was invincible. It took days for my tears to come after we received the news. Even now I was unable to believe he was gone.

  Willi was seventeen months older than me and I had always been closest to him. At nineteen, he was already a paratrooper, recently deployed to France with a new parachute division. He had been home for a few weeks in April, the first time we’d been together since losing our brother. I couldn’t get enough of being by his side, touching him to make sure he was really there, remembering Ludwig through him. It was almost unbearable to say goodbye to him again, the silent fear that he would be next gnawing inside me. After he left, my mother was inconsolable for days. Mutti clung to me, kept me near in any way she could. The loss of Ludwig had hit her so hard that Vati and I feared that the strain of another loss would kill her. I knew all the begging in the world wouldn’t give me their permission to go anywhere. If I hadn’t had my fiancé, Heinrich, during those terrible days, I don’t know how I would have coped.

  Heinrich understood. He had lost his older brother in the early days of the war and was all his parents had left. His elderly father kept him close on the pretext of helping him manage their vast estate. Sometimes Heinrich seemed like the only ally I had. We had known each other most of our lives and were best friends, kindred spirits. He was handsome and strong – and I was curious – but we had not dared to become intimate, despite being engaged. Naturally, we had fooled around a bit but the maiden’s prized virtue of purity had been drummed into me since I was small, at school and through the BDM, the League of German Girls. I thought it was best to wait. Besides, the last thing I needed was to become pregnant before I was married. My parents would die of shame and if anything happened to Heinrich . . . heaven help me.

  I rolled off my bed and sat at my writing desk to send a note to Heinrich. He was working a few long shifts at the hospital and I knew I wouldn’t manage to talk to him in the next couple of days. At least with my note I could let him know of my mother’s resistance to my plans and warn him about the upcoming conversation regarding our wedding. He would think of the best way to support me when the matter was raised with our families and explain why it was so important for me to get a job as a military photographer, even if I had to compromise by staying closer to home. ‘Liebe Heinrich,’ I began, the heavy Sheaffer fountain pen, a gift from my father, balanced perfectly in my hand. I soon lost myself in the flow of words as I poured my heart out, sharing my frustration with my best friend. Still feeling anxious and strung out, I decided not to give my note to our servant to deliver. I would walk to the hospital myself. I knew Heinrich would receive it during his next break.

  I made sure I was presentable, examining my image in the mirror and straightening my polka dotted dress, adjusting the belt at my cinched waist and smoothing my shoulder length blonde hair. Before the butler could object or my mother could call me, I ran down the stairs and out the door onto the street.

  *

  ‘Did you send a note to Heinrich asking him to help you find a way to get a job as a military photographer?’ asked Vati in a low voice. My father had been away in Berlin for a week. If only I had got to him before Mutti did, I could have explained to him.

  ‘Ja, Vati,’ I said, looking down at the richly coloured Turkish rug set against the repetitive pattern of the parquetry floor. I didn’t want to see the disappointment on his face. ‘How did you find out?’

  ‘Heinrich’s mother found the letter in his shirt pocket when the new maid was organising his laundry,’ said my mother. I could almost feel the waves of anger rolling off her. At least I could still trust Heinrich, although I wished he had been more careful with the letter. We had to stick together – our mothers could be so pushy. They were similar in age and had been close friends since childhood. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with.

  ‘Sit,’ my father ordered.

  I obediently sat on the edge of the lounge chair, facing my parents. I could hear the ticking of the grandfather clock, steady and even, unlike my heartbeat.

  ‘You want to postpone your wedding. Why?’ Vati looked cool as a cucumber, impeccable as always in his army uniform, though his hazel eyes glared at me sternly.

  Laying my palms flat on my lap, willing them to stay still, I decided to meet my father’s eyes and tell the truth. Maybe he would understand after all. ‘Heinrich and I agree we shouldn’t get married yet. He wants to concentrate on finishing his studies. It looks like he might get a job at Schwabing Hospital when he’s completed his training there . . . unless he’s called away to another posting. Until we can be sure he has a good job, we want to wait, like you suggested.’

  ‘I never suggested such a thing!’ exploded my mother. ‘The way this war’s going, you’ll either be the longest engaged couple known to man or you’ll miss out altogether if Heinrich is killed – God forbid.’

  ‘Mutti!’ I said, horrified.

  My mother put her hands up in apology. ‘You have no excuse any more. You’ve finished your studies – why not marry now? It doesn’t matter if Heinrich is still studying. You can live here with us if Heinrich’s parents don’t want you there, although I think they will jump at the chance to have a daughter around that empty house of theirs. If something did happen, you would be well taken care of by the Hoffmann family and Heinrich’s estate.’

  I shook my head, my blood boiling. ‘I would never take advantage of his family like that.’

  ‘These are strange times. You can prove your worth to his parents when the war is over. By all means, if Heinrich sees fit, go and work as a photographer after the war. If you’re feeling really ambitious, maybe we can help you set up a studio. You know we have the right connections. It won’t be hard to manage.’

  I couldn’t reason with my mother, I knew that. I sent a pleading look to my father. ‘Please, Vati!’

  My father put his large, powerful hand over my mother’s small, shapely one and gave it a gentle squeeze. Her expression softened at once. He leant across, touching his dark hair to her fair, wavy locks, and whispered in her ear. The look that passed between them made me feel that I shouldn’t be in the room. I watched them, suddenly wistful. I wondered if that look had always been there for them, or if it came with the bond of intimacy. Heinrich and I didn’t look at each other like that.

  ‘What’s this all about, Lotte?’ asked my father gently.

  ‘I’ve spent all this time learning
to be a photographer. Now that I have the skills, I want to use them. So many others I’ve trained with have good jobs with the Wehrmacht, making a real difference, some of them even on the front. I want to prove myself, make a contribution and help the war effort.’

  ‘She wants to go to the front, Johann!’

  ‘You wouldn’t do that to your mother, would you?’ Vati’s tone was conversational but I knew that anything that upset my mother also upset him. ‘Don’t you think she’s been through enough? How would she cope if something happened to you?’

  I stared at my feet, ashamed. ‘I know, Vati but I’m not a little girl any more. I’m a grown woman now. I want you to be proud of me,’ I whispered, daring to look up at him again.

  The frown of consternation on my father’s face was reassuring. ‘We are, liebchen. You’re a fine photographer. But your mother is right. These are strange times and we only want what’s best for you. You are the apple of our eye. Neither of us could bear to lose you. We only want to keep you safe.’

  ‘We’ll be proud of you when you marry that boy,’ snapped my mother, her face as rigid as her attitude, but I could see the tears glistening in her eyes. ‘Heinrich’s mother and I have agreed to set a date sometime this summer.’

  ‘I’m not so sure,’ said my father. ‘The talk in Berlin is that Goebbels wants to increase conscription to women, boys from the Hitler Youth as young as fourteen and men up to sixty-five years of age. Single and married women with no children will get no exemptions. Once called up, there will be no choice of where you’re posted. I’m afraid that the chances are Heinrich will be called again, although God knows we need more doctors here, with all the bombings.’

  ‘All the more reason for them to marry soon.’ My mother sat straight and tall, as if she were made of glass and could shatter at any moment.

  ‘Nein, liebling. She doesn’t need that boy’s money or security. I give my blessing for them to marry when Heinrich has finished his studies and has a good job.’

  My mother nearly jumped out of her seat with alarm. I had to wipe the smirk off my face as she glared at us but she didn’t bite back as I thought she would.

  My father placed a hand on her shoulder. ‘I know it’s not what you wanted. But in light of this new information, I think it’s wise for us to enquire about military work opportunities. It would be best if Lotte had a position before any enforced conscription begins. After that, we can’t guarantee where she’ll end up or what she’ll be doing.’ He glanced across to me. ‘I don’t know that we’ll find a photography position. Most likely an office job, but this way she could be close to home, involved in the war effort like she wants.’

  My mother looked slightly mollified, although I could tell my father still had some work to do to fully convince her.

  ‘Close your mouth, Lotte,’ said my mother brusquely, ‘unless you want to swallow flies.’

  I dutifully obeyed, swallowing nervously as I looked at my parents.

  ‘I suppose it won’t hurt to see what’s available. A job will teach her some discipline – and the value of money, which will be useful when she has to manage her own household. A few conditions: I want you to promise that we both agree on the job and I want her to stay in München.’ Mutti reached for Vati’s hand and squeezed it tightly. I could see the tips of my father’s fingers turning red.

  ‘Of course, my dear. I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

  My mother smiled sweetly at him and released her grip. He had the good grace not to snatch his hand away to ease the circulation back into it.

  I leant back in the lounge chair, watching my mother. She had done it again – manipulated the situation so that she got what she wanted. True, my father had vetoed a summer wedding and allowed me to work with the military but, sure as hell, my mother would make sure I stayed close by. I could almost guarantee she would ensure there was no photography position, just to spite me.

  ‘What do you think, liebling?’ my father asked, smiling. I could see that he thought he had negotiated a solution between his two girls quite successfully.

  What could I say without hurting his feelings? ‘Fine, Vati.’ I leapt up to hug him. The smell of the smoke from his pipe clinging to his tunic met me like a familiar friend as he enfolded me in his strong, comforting arms. My mother caught my eye, her icy gaze accusing me of ruining all her plans and her family’s impeccable reputation. I squeezed Vati tighter and was rewarded with a kiss on top of my head. I could not disappoint my father. He thought the world of me and I adored him.

  Johann von Klein had only come into my life recently, not long after the war began, when he and my mother married following a two-year courtship. He was a family friend from Berlin, ten years Mutti’s senior, but she hadn’t seen him for many years. Mutti grew up near the Luxembourg border and had married my natural father after the Great War; he was already over thirty but she was only twenty. She never spoke about the war years but I knew that although my natural father was a decorated hero, he did not cope well with life after the war. I remember him as a moody man who exploded with fits of rage at my mother and who sank into periods of deep depression. All he gave me besides those bad memories were his looks. I was tall and fair like him, with his square face and broad forehead.

  I was only ten years old when she divorced him, but I remember it was such a scandal to have a divorce in the family. Mutti couldn’t bear to stay, so she moved from Düsseldorf to München, where her grandmother had left her an apartment. My mother couldn’t afford to have us with her – she had no money because my father had spent all her inheritance as well as his own. My father kept my brothers but not me – I went to boarding school. Sometimes I wondered if Mutti sent me away because I reminded her of my father. My mother would come to see me at school one day every year, and what a day it always was. She lavished me with love, hugs and kisses, small gifts and her undivided attention for the whole day but then she would be gone again. Although I knew she had it tough, I was only a child. I thought that nobody wanted me.

  I was fifteen and just finishing my land year when she married Johann. Mutti fetched me home. Her new husband was kind and generous. He paid for me to study photography and spoilt me like I was his own daughter, as he had no children of his own. He insisted on my introduction to high society, as he was from a long line of barons himself. My mother agreed that it was my birthright, joyfully arranging my ‘coming out’ ball. Nobody had ever bothered about me before and I was beside myself to finally become the centre of attention, in awe of being allowed to choose a magnificent gown for the occasion. I was crushed when it was cancelled. The war was escalating and many of our men were dying; it didn’t seem right to observe the social niceties when so many families had lost their loved ones. Already we could feel the perpetual optimism that buoyed a city like München, making it sparkle and shine, begin to fade.

  And then we lost Ludwig.

  Vati didn’t give up. On my eighteenth birthday, he presented me with adoption papers. He wanted me to be his daughter, to take his name. All the times I had been overlooked paled into insignificance. I was ecstatic.

  *

  I met Heinrich at one of our favourite places in the Englischer Garten. It was a good place to talk without our mothers lurking nearby. Entering the calm, cool green of München’s beloved parkland, the creeping unease I had begun to sense on the streets – despite the Führer’s assurances that Germany was winning the war – fell away, along with the chaos and noise of a functioning city, defiant in the face of war.

  Heinrich was already waiting when I arrived, standing by the bank of the Schwabinger Bach, hands resting easily in his pockets, staring into space. He stood straight and tall, broad shoulders straining against the fabric of his suit jacket. I smiled to myself. I might just be able to surprise him this time. Approaching as silently as I could, I moved out of his line of sight, watching the close-cropped blond head that so reminded me of my brothers drop as though deep in thought. He was just about to start
his exams and I was sure he was thinking through some medical procedure.

  I was a few feet behind him and he still hadn’t moved. I couldn’t help but grin as I reached out with both arms and poked him in the ribs.

  Heinrich whipped around faster than I thought possible, catching me off guard. I whooped, startled. He grasped my arms, pulling me towards him and as I glimpsed his sly smile, I realised he had been ready for me. Pulling back as he dug into my ribs with powerful fingers, I shrieked with uncontrollable laughter before we lost balance and fell among the grass and wildflowers of the meadow. I wheezed, winded by the fall, laughter still bubbling up from inside of me. I had landed on top of him. His smile of triumph faded as he looked up at me, his bright blue eyes clouding with concern.

  ‘Are you all right?’ he whispered.

  I nodded, leaning on the elbow that had hit the ground. Worried I must be crushing him, I tried to straighten to take my weight off him, wincing at the stinging in my elbow.

  ‘No,’ he said softly, his eyes glittering. ‘You don’t get away that easily.’ He pulled me close to him, his muscular frame taut against my softness, his cotton collar tickling my cheek. ‘That’s better,’ he murmured, wriggling his hips under me.

  ‘Heinrich, no! Not here where everybody can see.’ I felt the blood rush to my face, mortified. It was a warm summer’s afternoon and I could hear people milling about the park. ‘What if my mother finds out?’

  I watched the gleam of wicked humour in his eyes disappear before he sighed. ‘Such a spoilsport,’ he said. ‘Give me a kiss.’ He drew me into a deeper embrace. He tasted of cigarettes and strawberries. Smoking was a habit he’d picked up on the front but now he only smoked at parties and when he was studying.

  ‘Now,’ he said, allowing me to slide onto the grass next to him. ‘Let’s have a look at that elbow. I think it requires some expert medical attention.’

  ‘My mother is so angry,’ I told him as he examined my elbow. I gazed at the ducks bobbing calmly on the stream, the sun filtering through the thick foliage of the trees near its bank, making the water glisten in the afternoon light. Part of me wished I had brought my camera. ‘She wanted us married before the end of summer.’