Prussian Blue

"I'll hear the bell above the door," she says, taking a stool opposite me and holding her cup in two hands despite the stuffy atmosphere of the room.

"Of course."

"I assume you're here to see Papa to further discuss your little trip to Brisbane?" She grins, adding, "Or perhaps you're here to buy a saddle for the horse you galloped into the shop on."

"I'm here to see you."

Already red face from the summer's day, Gisela's face turns an extra shade of crimson, the cup of tea stopping before it makes it to her mouth. "Really?"

"Yeah, I felt the need for a cup of tea and good company."

Another crack of thunder causes me to spill a little hot tea in my lap, the rumble lasting longer than the previous one, rattling the windows. Gisela looks to where I'm trying to stop the hot liquid seeping through my trousers, telling me, "That's the Lord punishing you for lying to me."

"What makes you think it's a lie?"

"Everyone knows you wanted Ava. She might have felt the same way about you but you didn't wait when she asked you to slow down and blew any chance by going off with the hussy Ethel Williams. Now you're looking at Martha with the same eyes you used to make at Ava, and she looks back at you the same. I'm not blind or stupid."

"I never, ever thought you were stupid, Gisela."

Gisela snorts but says nothing.

I sip tea and after a moment, I ask, "Tell me something, why do you think I'm not here to see you?"

She shrugs. "People don't come to talk with me, they come to buy my saddles."

"But you're my friend..."

Thunder interrupts, both of us flinching. "I think the Lord God is trying to stop you teasing me."

"Tease you?"

"You've always teased me, but I'm not a child anymore, so please don't tease me. I'm a woman, you even said so yourself last night, even if I'm a disappointment to my family."

"Wait, what? Don't be bloody ridiculous, you're not a disappointment in any shape or form to anyone, especially not your family!"

"I'm nothing like my sisters and my parents worry I'm going to be a spinster and their burden, despite Papa letting me help out in the shop. Son's run businesses with their fathers, not daughters."

Picking up one of the saddlebags on the bench and fingering the neat stitching, I ask, "Is this your handy work?"

"I made them, yes."

"The quality is second to none and I know your Dad thinks so too."

"But I'm a girl."

"A talented one. And resourceful." Holding up the tea cup, I add, "And kind."

She purses her lips and frowns a little. "What do you want to see me about, Alfie?"

"To apologise to you about last night."

She looks to the floor. "You embarrassed me."

"Embarrassing you wasn't my intention." With a deep breath, I sigh. "I'm sorry I made you feel that way."

Shifting on her stool, she looks back into my eyes, then nods. "Maybe I'm used no one taking me seriously...but I guess you were right, I couldn't disguise myself as a boy and expect to get to Brisbane and find Mary."

Holding her gaze, I say, "I know you were very fond of Jack."

She shifts on her stool, like she's flinched at her nephew's name. "I spent all my spare time playing with Jack while Mary did whatever it was Mary did."

"By your parent's account from our conversation last night, Mary was pulling her weight right up until she left."

"Mama and Papa are overly generous about Mary. Anyway, what are you going to do if you find her? Ask her to come and visit us?"

"When I find her," I say. "I'm going to tell her Will wanted her to know he loved her and Jack, and I'm going to..."

With a sigh, I feel this is silly and stop talking, but Gisela prompts me, asking, "Going to what?"

"Ask if she needs anything, if she needs help. Like with Jack and anything else."

"What, like, you're going to be friendly? Not tell her off for leaving us, her husband's family?"

"Nope, and you're not telling her off either."

"How can I, you and Papa have made it abundantly clear I can't go with you and see Jack."

"I know it's what you want most, to see Jack. I've thought about it and maybe I'm a bit soft in the head, but I'm buying my ticket tomorrow and leaving on Monday and could get a second ticket."

Gisela's eyes widen as she gets my meaning straight up. "Yes...why?"

"Because...of Will." I smile now. "And because I'm not too bright. But you have to be on your best behaviour."

"I'm not a child anymore, I've told you this."

I smile some more. "We want to be friendly with Mary if there's any chance of seeing Jack."

She huffs. "I know, I know, you're right."

"And dress nicely, please, like a lady. Can't have you wandering around the city looking like a street urchin."

She's frowning and about to say something in reply when the back door flings open and Ludwig enters the room, water draining from his hat and oilskin coat onto the floor. Gisela and I look to him and he seemingly only notices us once he's hung his coat and hat on a hook by the door. Thunder cracks again some distance further to the east now, and the rumble dies down as Ludwig approaches. "Alfred, what a pleasant surprise. I hope I wasn't interrupting anything?"

"Oh, no, Papa," Gisela speaks before I can, a little hasty if I think about it, as if we were caught doing something we shouldn't. "Alfie didn't come to see me, he came to see you."

She stands to leave, but I say, "Wait, I'll send you a message."

Again she opens her mouth as if to speak, but must think better of it, looking to me then her father who's placing the kettle back on the stove top, shrugging her shoulders, then she nods. Ludwig turns and leans back against the bench, folding his arms and says, "How may I help you, Alfred?"

I look to Gisela for help, and she smiles this time, shrugs again and leaves through to the front of the shop.

~0~

Wearing my good suit and hat I'd bought in Melbourne on what turned out to be the day the Armistice in Europe was signed, I'm approaching the Eichstaedt's gate in early dawn's darkness, wonderer why Gisela's not waiting there like we'd agreed.

"Alfred, behind you."

"Shit," I whisper, spinning around, dropping my old Army kit-bag and clutching my chest for a second. "Scared the daylights out of me!"

She's standing on the road behind me, her outline indicating she's wearing a dress, its hem falling close to the ground. Her hair is pinned up and in one hand I believe she carries a wide floppy hat, and in the other she's holding a satchel, though it's too dark to tell. She's maybe a yard away and I can see she's grinning, teeth showing barely in the dimness, but it's Gisela. She whispers, "Didn't they teach you how to avoid an ambush in the Army?"

"I coulda turned and snapped you in two."

She laughs. "Didn't you think this bush here was a bit funny looking? You walked right past me!"

"You're a bit funny looking," I say, holding my hand out to take her satchel.

"Hmmff," she snorts. "I'll carry my own bag after your comment."

"I didn't mean it, I'm sorry..."

But she's grinning, I can hear it in her voice. "Made you think I was upset, didn't I."

"I didn't care either way."

"Bullshit."

"So lady like."

"I'm not much of a lady," she whispers. "According to what everyone says."

"I don't care what everyone says either, because you look like a lady in your dress." Even in the past few moments the sky lightens further and I can see now it's the same dark blue dress she was wearing the evening I arrived home, interrupting my family's dinner with the Eichstaedt family. A dress similar to what her sister and mother wore. "Very pretty."

"Flattery will get you nowhere, Alfie." But she's grinning. "Your suit looks pretty fancy, some might say it suits you."

Shaking my head, but smiling, I say, "Come on, we have a train to catch. Pass me your bag, I don't mind carrying it for you."

"I've told you, I can carry it myself."

"Suit yourself then, let's go."

The town is beginning to wake, people starting their day, a dray pulled by a team of Clydesdales loaded with fresh milk containers from the district's dairies passing us, heading to the creamery. By the time we arrive at the station the sky has brightened further and we can make out the faces of several people waiting to board. Gisela turns to me and whispers, "Don't look but it's Emil and Saskia Butcher."

"I thought their name is Wurstmann?"

"They changed it about two years ago. Because, you know...."

"Because their name was the worst?"

Gisela bites her lips but she's shuddering, trying desperately not to laugh. "You're terrible, Alfie. Some might say you're the worst man."

"I've been called worse. Hmm, or is it wurst?"

"You're definitely a sausage," she says, giving me the slightest shove and I laugh.

"They've seen us and are coming over."

"Oh, bugger," she whispers, seemingly moving closer to me as if I can hide her.

"Quick, run," I say, grinning. Gisela purses her lips and I'm trying hard not to laugh, but she sees my smirk and peeks over her shoulder, seeing the couple are still standing at least thirty feet away and are currently speaking with the Station Master, Mr Forsyth, who's punching their tickets. Gisela gives me another shove with a tad more force this time and I laugh and ask, "Why are you hiding from them, have they got dirt on you?"

"They're from church," she whispers. "Saskia's nosy and Emil's, well, some might say he's handsy and doesn't understand personal space, especially around women. He once grabbed Mrs Rasmussen's bottom and she slapped him."

"Because he really is the worst man?"

"He is," Gislea replies, but she's shaking her head and frowning, or grinning, maybe both. "And this is going to be a long trip, isn't it, Alfie?"

I smirk and wink and tell her, "They're boarding the other carriage so I think you're in the clear."

Gisela peeks and sees I've told the truth this time, one or two other passengers looking in our direction but not taking too much notice. Mr Forsyth moves through them while the train waits, steam billowing, the few passengers climbing on board, and Mr Forsyth greets us, punching our tickets too.

"Miss Eichstaedt?" he says, somewhat surprised, asking questions of me with his eyes.

"Good morning, Mr Forsyth," Gisela greets him, impeccably, very much like a lady. "Lovely morning for a train ride to town, isn't it?"

"Aye, lassie, it's a fine morning indeed."

"We have business in Brisbane," I tell him, feeling I need to offer a hint of information why Gisela and I are travelling together.

"We're going to find Mary," Gisela tells him, and I place my hand on her arm, shaking my head in warning.

"Aye, I understand," Mr Forsyth replies, knowing, nodding at Gisela. "Good luck."

Entering the carriage behind her, I whisper, "Don't tell people we're tracking down Mary."

She stops and looks back. "Why not? Or why even tell them anything then?"

I shrug. "Dunno, but we don't know how Mary will respond when we arrive. And we're not sure who around the district befriended her and may get word to her. Like Mr and Mrs Wurstmann or Butcher, whatever in the other carriage."

"Maybe you're right," Gisela sighs. "But Mr Forsyth won't say anything. He's friendly with Papa."

I shrug because I doubt anyone actually cares. "I guess it's an old habit from the war, keeping secrets about destinations or mission objectives, being told or telling others only what they need to know."

She grins and salutes. "Gotcha, Sergeant."

"Corporal, actually."

"I've given you a promotion," she says again, taking an empty seat by the open window, pressing her dress in her lap.

With a smile I shake my head and sit beside her, placing my Army kit-bag between my feet, glad there's few passengers in our carriage. Mr Forsyth blows his whistle, the type of whistle our officers would blow before going over the top, thus my stomach is in knots. I see him through the window, lowering his flag and the locomotive huffs and puffs and there's the screeching of steel on steel as the driving wheels spin then bite the rails, the carriages lurching forward with a series of clangs as the couplings take up the slack, and we slowly begin to move forward.

"This is exciting!" Gisela is all grins and smiles. "Don't you think so?"

"I think I've seen enough trains to last a life time or two."

"Oh, don't be such a bore," she says, giving my arm a little nudge. "I haven't travelled on a train for years!"

Gisela turns to look out the window and her enthusiasm makes me smile, and moments later she looks to me again and she smiles because she's caught me smiling. The sun's over the horizon now and we can see the town giving way to the country side of lush green paddocks, some flooded with puddles the size of lakes from the recent storms, ducks and other birds wading and swimming there, cattle and eucalypts and a few windmills, forested hills on all sides.

Here and there are homesteads where every now and then Gisela points out a farm and whispers a last name; the Lee's and Hahn's, then I whisper the Anderson's, Schultz's, and the Underwood's, properties I've worked on as a ringer from time-to-time through my teens.

A handsome and sprawling red iron roofed homestead belongs to the von Walds, who, she informs me, have changed their name to Wild during the war. I don't need to ask how she knows all these families because they're either customers, where she's spent a good deal of her eighteen years travelling with her brother and father to make deliveries of stock, or as part of the local German Lutheran community.

Most farms are still occupied but some are in disrepair, and she whispers a painful, "Aa.."

"Pardon?"

She points to the homestead directly out the window, not far from the railway tracks, a windmill missing several blades by the stockman's quarters and a jungle of three foot high grass blankets the house yard. "That's the Hauser's property. Poor Günter and Herbert didn't come home and their Papa died, some say of a broken heart. Mrs Hauser and her daughters Katharina and Berta left...the family were friends of ours."

"I'm sorry, I vaguely knew Günter and Herbert because I saw them ride a few times when Dad and I used to compete in local campdrafts. Weren't they were a bit young to fight?"

Gisela's silent for a moment and when she speaks her voice cracks. "Günter was a few years younger than you and Herbert was a year older than me...they were idiots, Herb lied about his age and they both forged their Papa's signature...we used to visit their property...Herbert used to..."

"Gisela," I whisper, placing my hand on her arm. "You don't have to..."

She turns to me, shaking her head. "Herb and I were mates from when we were little, we used to muck about where he taught me a few tricks with my horse and they made a flat area of dirt where we'd put up a net and play tennis every time we visited. Our parents once thought he and I would get married one day. Even if they were joking, for a while when I was younger I thought it probable."

"Oh, Gisa," I whisper again, noting I've used the shortened version of her name which her family use.

"We hadn't spoken in a while when he joined up, but he wrote me a letter once. Said he was in Egypt and saw the Pyramids but couldn't mention where he was headed next. I wrote a reply but...I didn't hear from him again."

We sit in silence, the carriage rocking, Gisela now looking at the back of the seat in front. I glance out the window again, seeing the old homestead with a milking shed behind, once a family home and business in one, paddocks destocked and overgrown, all torn apart by the damn war.

Switching my gaze from the decaying dairy to Gisela, I see she is biting her bottom lip, and she looks to me and I smile as warmly as I can. "I'm so sorry."

She swallows and looks away again, glancing back out the window. "I don't think there's a single family untouched by the war in some way or other."

"No, there isn't."

After a while she asks, "Are you surprised I thought I might want to marry someone?"

"No," I answer, then think for a moment. "I'm surprised by your question, why do you ask?"

She shakes her head. "I don't know. All other girls I know often talk about finding a husband and having babies, as if it's all life has to offer. I like kids, I love little Jack, but I suppose I need a husband first if I'm to have my own. I don't see it happening...I guess I have my niece and nephew, Anna's children, but they've moved up west of Toowoomba and we only see them once a year if we're lucky...I don't know about Ava, but I think she'll meet a soldier or doctor, and I guess you and Martha will marry one day too."

"Hold your horses, girl," I say, laughing. "Where do you get this idea Martha and I are getting married?"

"Come on, Alfred, don't take me for a fool. You visited our house several times since you arrived home."

"Yet it's you who's with me on a trip to Brisbane."

She looks at me and frowns. "What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," I answer shaking my head.

"Come on, tell me."

"I'm not after a wife, not right now. Finding Mary and Jack is all I've thought about since...Will died. And I've asked you along because I know you're champing at the bit to see them. I could've asked Martha instead, because she was hinting at traveling to Brisbane to become a dress maker, but escorting Martha to Brisbane to find a job isn't my priority. But I know you wanted to find Mary and I hear all these wonderful stories about your interactions with Jack and something compelled me to ask you to come."

She's pondering what I've told her, then sighs. "Do you think we'll find Mary?"

"I hope so."

Gisela looks out the window again and I close my eyes.

The branch line joins the main line at Ipswich where we change trains, heading east towards Brisbane. Bushland, paddocks and small towns give way to the suburbs of weatherboard houses, most on tall stumps, some with enclosed verandas, many with large yards displaying beautiful gardens of blossoming Bougainvillea, jacaranda, frangipani, mango trees, citrus, and many have vegetable patches too. The train crosses the wide river, roaring over the iron bridge, then we change at Roma Street Station, catching a train to Ascot.

It's late afternoon now as we step from the station among a small crowd of fellow passengers heading home from where ever they worked or whatever they did. Two black motorcars pass us, turning into the open field I presume is the race course, because several horses are working the paddock there.

Gisela looks to me, beads of sweat on her brow. "I've only heard of automobiles but now I've seen two!"

"I believe those are Model T Fords."

"How do you know?"

"Spent last month in Melbourne where there's quite a few of these things now."

"I don't think they'll catch on, I'd take those horses on the race track over there instead of the automobiles any day."

"Maybe the rich will buy them because they're too lazy to ride and they're the only people who can afford them?"

She laughs then says, "Now where?"

I hand her the paper map Matthew has drawn me. "Can you read a map?"

"Of course, can't you?"

"Yep, but I want to see if you can find your way about, in case we get separated."

"I'll be fine, Alfie," she says, grinning. "It's you we should be worried about."

"Show me the way then, smarty."

Gisela laughs but in no time she's oriented the map, determined the direction to Matthew's parent's house, and without a word she starts walking away. I laugh and follow and soon we're standing outside a standard Queenslander weatherboard house on stumps, and she declares, "This is it."

We trudge up the path and steps and pull the rope by the door, a little bell inside the house chiming. Soon a man opens up, looking like an older version of Matthew with dark eyes but grey hair, and he smiles. "You must be Alfred Graham."