So, I've been in quarantine for about three weeks now, and while there are many things I miss about the old normal, I have been doing a fair bit of writing. I decided that I'm going to post a series of chapters here for a project I've been working on called Music in Berlin. This is a little bit of an experiment. This is a (very) lightly edited draft; it's nowhere near a completed manuscript. I want to hear from you - whatever you think of this. So please post your feedback - the good, the bad and the ugly :-)


Music in Berlin
By Ralph Josiah Bardsley
Installment #1

Prelude: 1983

Lisle shuddered as she walked through the open door of the apartment. It was nothing spectacular, nothing that she wouldn’t have seen in a hundred other apartment buildings all over East Berlin – the same sterile cement walls with bright orange carpets and deep blue linoleum – a glossy 1960s feel to all of it, with lithographic pictures on the wall of country scenes – one of a cow in a pasture and the other of a trail through some lush green forest. But the place had been torn apart – the rayon couch had been slashed open, foam spilling out its seat and back cushions. The desk was turned over, its contents spread across the floor. Instinctively she knew that something had gone very, very wrong.

“Why did you bring me here, Helen?” she asked the woman standing next to her.

The difference between the women was stark. Lisle, wore a deep brown pencil skirt with a light green polyester blouse. The tailoring was sharp and her clothes fit her well, accentuating her thin figure. Helen, in contrast had a baggy grey skirt and a plaid blouse that almost looked like a man’s shirt. There was a thin film of sweat across her forehead and everything about her looked slightly disheveled.

“Is this your apartment?” Lisle asked her. The two had been close once, years ago. They had grown up in the same building, not long after the war. But they had not seen each other much in the years since Helen had gotten married and Lisle had moved off to her own life.

“No,” Helen shook her head as she spoke. “It belongs to two professors – a husband and wife. We live upstairs.”

“Why are we here? What happened to this place?”

Helen looked around her as if she expected somebody or something to come out of the walls. A fear blazed in her eyes as she struggled to speak. “They’re gone. The police came in this morning looking for them. It was awful, Lisle. I was upstairs and I could hear them searching the apartment. They – the professors – were both here and I could hear the screams.” Helen trembled as she spoke and Lisle shuttered. Lisle and Helen both knew too well the stories of what the secret police were like.

“We really shouldn’t be here then.” Lisle took a step towards the door. “What if they come back? What if the place was bugged and they’re listening to us now?”

“There is a boy,” Helen whispered.

“A what?”

“The professors, they had a boy - just a little boy, only about seven. But he was away this morning at school when the police came.”

“Oh my god. What happened to him?”

Helen’s face went rigid but she didn’t speak. Instead she motioned for Lisle to follow her down the hall towards the single bedroom.

“They didn’t have a family apartment, just a single bedroom. The boy slept on a cot that they pulled out from the closet every night. I don’t think the police realized there was a child. Or else they might have left one of the parents or at least had someone here to take care of him when he returned from school this afternoon. But there was nobody. So the boy came to my door when his parents weren’t here to let him in.” Helen looked directly at Lisle.

“Where is he now?” Lisle asked.

“Still upstairs. He’s reading a book in my living room.”
The gears in Lisle’s head were starting to click. She turned away from Helen and walked the length of the small hallway back to the combination living room and dining room. She took in the violence of the scene; she imagined the sounds of things smashing as the STASI tore through the place, the shouting and, she was sure, the physical violence as well. The police were known for that.

“Lisle,” Helen said. She had followed Lisle silently. “I need you to take the boy before anyone figures out that he is here.”

Lisle nodded. She was not entirely taken off guard by the request. She knew Helen had asked her here for a reason, and that reason had slowly revealed itself as she took in what had happened here.

“Helen, you know I’m not in a good position to take care of a child. I run a night club. I live upstairs from it. I’m working all sorts of crazy hours – I don’t get to bed until early in the mornings. I don’t know the first thing about children. Plus, people will come looking for him eventually. Doesn’t he have grandparents? Any other relatives?”

Helen shook her hands. “Lisle, both parents were orphans – they lost all their family in the war. If they come back, I’ll make sure they know where to find you and the child. But right now, there is no one for him. I can’t take care of him. People will know and if the police do come back here looking for him I can’t imagine what they’ll do. At the very least they’ll put him in an orphanage. He’s such a sweet boy and I can’t bare to think what might happen to him there.”

“Someone will adopt him. Someone who can take care of a child, and who doesn’t live above a night club.”

“Lisle, when have I ever called on you for help?”

Lisle shook her head. “Never.”

“Exactly,” Helen said. “I’m asking you for help now. You can say this child came from a family relation in the south; that you are taking care of him while your sister is recovering. Please Lisle, I don’t want to see this boy put away in some state home.”

Lisle took a deep breath and pursed her lips together. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I just don’t think I can do this. I can’t provide for a child. I barely have enough to keep myself from starving. It would always be hand to mouth and what will that be like for him?”

“It will be like it is for all of us, Lisle.”

“But I can’t. I wouldn’t know the first thing about looking after a child.”

“Lisle, he can’t stay here. It’s only a matter of time before the police come back looking for him. I can’t take him. I’ve already got three of my own, and they’ll find him – they’ll certainly search the entire building. And who knows what the STASI will do to him – to make his parents talk. A state orphanage would be the best case scenario.”

At that moment the floor creaked and both women looked up towards the door of the apartment to see a little boy standing there. His silhouette was short and slender and barely blocked the light at his waist. He still wore his school uniform from earlier in the day, and he stood staring at the women, a blank look in his eyes. It was impossible to know how long he had been there.

“Do you know when my parents are coming home?” The boy’s voice was small and delicate, barely more than a soft whisper.

“Oh, sweetie,” Lisle said. “We’re just trying to figure that out.”

He trudged over to where the two women stood in the center of the room. “The police were here, weren’t they?” He looked up at Helen and then at Lisle. “Are they coming back for me?”

“Oh, sweetie.” Lisle was at a loss for words. “You’re going to be all right. Everything is going to be all right.” She reached out and put a hand on his head. He leaned into her and she wrapped her arm around him. He was waist high to her and so slight she had to keep her arm from slipping off of his tiny shoulder.

“They’re gone, aren’t they?” He asked, his voice muffled in the embrace with Lisle.

“They’re gone for now,” Lisle said. “Maybe they will come back some day. But right now, we need to get you somewhere safe and sound. Would you like to come stay with me…” She realized mid-sentence that she did not know the boy’s name. “My name is Lisle, but you’re going to have call me aunt Lisle for a while. Can you tell me your name?”

“I’m Anders,” he said.

“Anders,” she repeated. “That’s a beautiful name.”

“I’m named after my grandfather.”

“I bet he’s proud of you.”

“He’s dead. He died in the war.”

“I see. Well,” Lisle took a deep breath, as if contemplating what she was about to say next. “Let’s go and get your stuff, then you can come with me until we find out what happened with your parents.”

“Okay,” he said and slowly withdrew himself from her embrace. “My room is this way.”

Lisle and Helen worked quickly and quietly to pack the boy’s belongings into a small suitcase. There was not much, some clothing and a small stuffed bear that the boy insisted he carry in his own pocket.

“What will you tell his school?” Lisle asked.

Helen shrugged. “I’ll tell them that the government came and relocated the family. You should wait a few weeks and then enroll him in the school near you.”

Lisle nodded her head. “I may be calling you for advice.”

Helen smiled. “Thank you. I know he’ll be safe with you, Lisle.”