Page 18 of The Banned Books of Berlin

Los Angeles, April 2024

‘Of course you were right to show me those letters,’ Gramps said, passing Maddie a cup of tea. He’d been quiet on the ride back to his apartment, but not as upset as she’d feared. ‘It doesn’t change the way I feel about my mother,’ he went on. ‘She was the best mom I could have wished for. It wasn’t easy for her, bringing up a kid on her own, but she never let me see how hard things were, never made me feel a burden. Ours was a happy home, full of love. And she adored my father – or at least, the man she called my father – I know she did. She was always talking about him, telling me stories about how kind he was and how talented, the funny things he used to do.’

He glanced at the photograph on the mantelpiece: a handsome man gazing straight at the camera with a serious expression, dark hair cut short under an army cap, high cheekbones and a full mouth. He could have been a movie star.

‘Mom said we had the same eyes,’ Gramps went on. ‘And apparently he used to chew his food the exact same way I do. I guess she was just trying to make me feel some kind of connection with him. Goodness knows how she’d have explained me away when he came home at the end of the war, but that question never arose.’

‘Do you want to try and find out who your real father is?’ Maddie asked.

Gramps sighed. ‘I can’t see how that’s possible. It’s too late now; all my mother’s generation has died.’

‘You could always send off for a DNA test.’

‘I’m not doing that,’ Gramps replied bluntly. ‘It would seem like I’m spying on Mom, judging her, and I feel bad enough about reading her diary. Say we come up with some random name, anyway: we’re never going to know the whole story. She must have been lonely during the war, with my dad away.’

‘Did she have any friends that you particularly remember?’ Maddie asked.

Gramps blew out his cheeks. ‘Well, there was a guy I used to call Uncle Frank who would come visit. He was a work friend, I think, and they were obviously close, but I never got the feeling they were romantically involved. This man didn’t seem the marrying kind, if you catch my drift. Anyway, whoever my dad was, he never played a part in my life, for whatever reason: he only fathered me in the biological sense.’

‘Sounds familiar,’ Maddie said wryly.

‘Sorry, dear.’ Gramps patted her hand. ‘Have you heard from yours recently?’

‘Nope. Not that I care.’

Although sometimes, when she was feeling low or had had one glass of wine too many, Maddie was tempted to call her dad and ask him whether he ever thought about her and wondered how she was doing, whether he still remembered her birthday even though he no longer acknowledged it. She didn’t know if the phone number she had for him was still current. How could you bring a child into the world and just forget they existed? If she didn’t have Gramps and a couple of good male friends in her life, Maddie might have decided men were assholes.

‘His loss,’ Gramps said. ‘And you have a good mother, like I did.’

‘That’s true.’ All the same, Maddie was glad to be going back to Portland soon; three weeks with Sharon was quite enough.

‘Tell you what is intriguing, though,’ Gramps went on, swerving abruptly into another subject. ‘That painting you found in Mom’s case: I have the strangest feeling I know the house from somewhere. I even dreamed I was there the other night. How crazy is that? I’ve never been to England in my life.’

‘Can I have another look?’ Maddie asked, and Gramps fetched the picture from his bedroom. There it was: Beechwood Grange. She’d discovered the name of the family who lived there, although she couldn’t remember it now. Something double-barrelled and classy.

‘Well, I can do some digging for you online,’ she said, but Gramps only laughed and told her not to bother.

‘I’ve probably been watching too many period dramas on Masterpiece, and you need to get on with your own life. I gather Ben’s coming to stay with you in Portland?’

Maddie nodded. ‘Just for a few days, then Mom will drive up to bring him back via San Francisco. They’re going on a road trip together.’

‘That’s a lovely idea,’ Gramps said. ‘It’ll do her good to have some time by herself.’

And this was just the start. Ben’s support worker, Lisa, had told them about an organisation that provided support for adults who had Down syndrome and wanted to live independently. Ben could rent a room in a shared house with staff who’d help with tasks like shopping, laundry and cooking, and sort out any problems along the way. When he came back from Portland, he was going to look around one of the properties to see what he thought about the idea.

‘I won’t know what to do with myself,’ Sharon had said, biting her lip. Lisa had told her that if she had any time to spare, the Down Syndrome Society was always looking for volunteers. With a little training, perhaps she could talk to parents whose newborns had been diagnosed with the condition.

‘Mom, you’d be brilliant at that,’ Maddie had said. ‘Think of all the experience you have to share!’

They all were moving forward. Gramps’ apartment was positively spartan and he seemed to like it that way. ‘At last I have room to breathe,’ he said, gazing around the near-empty room. ‘Everything’s in order and I’m free to enjoy myself. Thanks for all your help, Madeleine – it’s been lovely spending this time with you.’

‘I’ve enjoyed it too,’ Maddie replied. ‘Despite the D word.’

‘You have to admit, I’d never have met Eva if it wasn’t for the Death Café,’ Gramps said. ‘And you wouldn’t have met Daniel, either. We could have a double wedding.’

‘Gramps, stop it!’ Maddie protested, laughing. ‘You know he has a girlfriend.’

‘Eva has reservations about her,’ he said. ‘I think you’d suit him much better.’

‘Well luckily it’s not up to you.’ Maddie wasn’t blushing now. She really had come to think of Daniel as a friend even though every now and then a flicker of attraction passed between them like a tiny electric charge and she let herself imagine a different relationship. No, she’d blown her chances there. The fact he was happy to spend time with her had to be enough. They’d met in the past week for a drink, and watched The Magic Garden together on a computer in the Film Archive’s study centre. She’d been transfixed by the contrast between the sensual, seductive world of the cabaret and the dead hand of the Nazi party, throttling joy and creative freedom. Marching feet and martial music stamped over the gaiety of a chorus line, drowned the languid notes of a singer in the spotlight. This had been Freya’s world, as remote to Maddie as the moon. She’d sat for a moment in silence when the film had ended, unable to express her emotions.

‘Powerful, isn’t it?’ Daniel had said. ‘I’m going to try and see if I can locate an original script. It seems such a coincidence that your great-grandmother wrote those words on the back of that photograph and describes some similar scenes. When the translation’s ready, you’ll see what I mean.’

‘I guess,’ Maddie said. ‘Let me know if you turn up anything interesting.’

Her curiosity was piqued but she could see herself disappearing down an internet rabbit hole if she started researching some obscure movie from the 1940s, and she had to get back to earning a living. Daniel was the expert: she would leave this to him. He’d texted her the day before to say he had some news for her and could they meet but he’d cancelled first thing that morning because of some work emergency, and she was leaving for Portland the next day. He’d promised to call her instead, although there was no telling when.

‘I’ll come again soon,’ Maddie told Gramps now, gathering her jacket and purse. ‘And I won’t leave it so long next time.’

‘No, don’t,’ he said, hugging her goodbye. ‘You look a hundred times better than when you arrived. You work too hard, dear. Have fun with Ben and remember to get out into the fresh air now and then.’

Maddie felt a hundred times better for her time out, too: more relaxed and able to cope. Restricting the hours she spent on her phone and reading instead had made her feel calmer. In some ways, she was ready to go back to work, although writing about garden makeovers and trends in kitchenware seemed a little unimportant after what she’d discovered. She no longer cared about the internet trolls, though. It had been so easy to lose a sense of proportion over some mean-spirited people who weren’t worth the energy she’d wasted on them, and she felt a sudden pang of sympathy for anyone with nowhere to run when things got tough, no one to turn to when they needed looking after. The world could be a harsh place.

‘You’re not really thinking about getting married again, are you?’ she asked her grandfather. ‘Do I need to start choosing a hat?’

‘I was only joking,’ Gramps replied. ‘Eva’s a lovely woman, though, and it’s nice to have someone to do things with. Let’s hope I’ve a few years left in me yet.’

Which seemed a much more positive attitude than planning his imminent funeral, Maddie thought, and could only thank Eva for that. It was a relief to be leaving her grandfather in such a happy state of mind.

The idea of a journey with Ben was daunting because he didn’t like crowds, and Maddie wasn’t sure how he’d react to so many new experiences. To make life easier, she’d booked a cabin with bunk beds on the train – but what if he found that too claustrophobic? Luckily there were several videos showing every step of the Coast Starlight journey in detail, which they watched together so Ben would be prepared. They’d even taken an advance trip to the train station, checking out the waiting area and finding the right platform. Ben had spent days before the trip filling and emptying his backpack and she had to persuade him not to bring his entire collection of paints, brushes, pens and sketchbooks. Sharon hovered in the background, twittering and wringing her hands.

‘Mom, everything’s going to be fine,’ Maddie told her, praying that would turn out to be true.

As soon as Sharon had hugged them goodbye at the train station the next morning, Maddie felt more relaxed. Ben was wearing the rainbow-coloured scarf that Kate had given her on the journey down, and the sight of it was reassuring. She couldn’t wait to see the sights through his eyes. He was quiet as they waited for the train to arrive, sticking close to her side, but he loved the compact cabin with its own bathroom and later, a fold-down bunk bed that the attendant prepared for the night. The dining car was where Ben really came into his own. He was so friendly that even the grumpiest passengers couldn’t help being charmed when he introduced himself, and Maddie, too.

‘Ben, they don’t need to know our life story,’ she hissed, as he was telling the morose couple across the aisle about all the things he was going to see and do in Portland. But the woman actually cracked a smile and said it sounded like he would have a fun few days, and soon she was showing Ben photographs of the Victorian mansion where her son was getting married that weekend.

‘There’s a gazebo, and a fountain with courtyards all around it,’ she said, ‘and you should see inside the house! Stained-glass windows and sympathetically restored woodwork everywhere.’

She was about to run through the menu for the wedding reception when luckily the woman sitting opposite leaned forward to say her daughter had just got engaged and was trying to find caterers who would respect food allergies – and they were off. Ben blinked a few times and retired from the conversation.

After lunch, he and Maddie went to the observation car to look at the Pacific shoreline past Santa Barbara and the Vandenburg Space Force base. This time, a couple of National Park volunteers were acting as guides, pointing out the rocket-launching pads and talking about what made the area so suitable for missile testing. Ben was fascinated, though Maddie’s eyes soon glazed over and she sneaked a look at her phone. Reception had been patchy but a text had just arrived from Daniel that made her sit up and pay attention.

‘My techie friend has traced an IP address for Nightshade, registered to a computer in Oregon City. Ring any bells?’

‘Not that I can think of,’ she texted back. ‘Will rack my brain tho. Thanks! Sorry not to say goodbye but back soon.’ She added a kiss and then deleted it.

Oregon City: less than half an hour’s drive from Portland, and well within her paper’s circulation area. The news that Nightshade was a real person rather than a bot disturbed her briefly but she soon managed to regain a sense of proportion; she was going to ignore him or her and write what she damn well pleased. With that in mind, she took a picture of Ben looking out of the huge observation window and began to make notes about their journey on her phone.

It wasn’t until she and Ben were preparing to settle down for the night that another text arrived from Daniel: ‘PS, seems Nightshade is a foodie. There’s an Instagram account called @goodthingstobake linked to the same computer.’

Frustratingly, reception dropped out again after a few minutes and she couldn’t search Instagram. She tossed and turned on the thin mattress, hearing Ben shift on the bottom bunk as the train hurtled along the twisting track. Suddenly a thought flashed into her mind that sent her sitting bolt upright, cracking her head on the cabin ceiling and yelping with pain.

‘Maddie? What are you doing?’ Ben called from below.

‘Nothing! Don’t worry,’ she replied, rubbing her head. She did know someone in Oregon City! Last year, the paper’s regular restaurant critic had been off sick for a few months, so she’d taken a turn filling in for him. She’d gone with Steve, her boyfriend at the time, to review a seafood place that had just opened in Oregon, and they’d had a fairly disastrous evening. OK, she and Steve had not been getting on well anyway, but their food had taken ages to arrive and was lukewarm and congealed, and their server had been rude. On top of that, Steve had been violently ill during the night and reported the restaurant to the county health department. Although Maddie had tried to be constructive in her review – or at least, not unremittingly negative – she had to be honest. The restaurant had closed down shortly before Christmas and the owner had written a furious letter to the paper, blaming negative publicity for its failure. The woman had to be Nightshade: it all made sense. What was her real name? Maddie couldn’t remember, but she would find out.

She woke early the next morning after only a couple of hours’ sleep, dressed in the dark without waking Ben and made her way to the observation car. She’d managed to look up @goodthingstobake on Instagram during the night. The setup of her pinned post was perfect: sunlight streaming through an open window, soft music in the background, pretty enamel cake tins and a smiling blonde woman in a striped apron. ‘My name is Lily-Anne and I love baking sweet treats in my country kitchen!’ announced the bio. ‘Come join my cookie crew!’ And now Maddie remembered the signature on Lily-Anne’s letter to the paper. Jaunty captions under various posts read, ‘Swiss meringue buttercream is the best frosting!’ ‘My mom showed me how to bake the perfect brownie!’ ‘Did you know you can use beetroot to sweeten a red velvet cake? Crazy, huh?’

Yet comments under most of the posts told a different story. ‘Way too much sugar for me,’ someone had written, while another person added, ‘The state of your oven! I’d be ashamed,’ and somebody else asked, ‘Why are you wearing plastic gloves? Worst germ spreaders ever.’ Lily-Anne defended herself vigorously against each of these accusations with responses that became increasingly heated: the bitter back-and-forths contrasting with her idyllic pictures. For a second, Maddie had been tempted to weigh in herself, criticising Lily-Anne for using canned blueberries in her muffins or some other heinous crime. Her fingers had hovered over the keypad of her phone, but thankfully she caught herself just in time. What had she been thinking?

Putting her phone down, she gazed out of the window as the sky gradually lightened and the sun rose over soaring Mount Shasta, marking the start of a new day. The smell of fresh coffee drifted through from the restaurant car and she yawned, stretching her arms above her head, before making her way back to their tiny bedroom to see if Ben was awake and ready for breakfast.

Ben’s trip to Portland could be counted a success. Maddie was back at work and hadn’t been able to spend much time with him during the days, but that was fine: what he really enjoyed was exploring the streets around her apartment, finding his favourite park and coffee shop and sitting there to watch the world go by. One lunchtime, Maddie showed him around her newspaper office. He was fascinated by the cubicles crammed side by side, the constant hum of activity, and the overhead television screens broadcasting news throughout the day. She introduced him to her editor before they left for a sandwich in the café next door, and when she returned to the office on her own, Vanessa asked whether she’d ever considered writing about her brother.

‘It’s lovely to see the two of you so close,’ she said, ‘and he’s such a charmer. This would be a feel-good story.’

‘Let me think about it,’ Maddie replied, wanting to consider all the implications. Yet she was already imagining a piece about Ben leaving home for the first time, navigating the challenge of living alone and finding his place in the world. Parents of kids who had Down syndrome would find it fascinating, surely, and even those with no direct experience of the condition might want to learn more. She would have to see what Sharon thought about the idea and make sure Ben was shielded from any negativity. He never paid any attention to social media, luckily, or she’d never have contemplated the idea.

They’d been planning to visit the Rose Garden that Saturday (Portland was the City of Roses, after all) but the night before, Maddie spotted a new post on Lily-Anne’s @goodthingstobake account. ‘Exciting news!’ she chirruped. ‘For one day only, I shall be running a pop-up café at the Hillside Mall tomorrow from 10 am to 3 pm. Everyone welcome!’

‘Ben, do you fancy going shopping tomorrow?’ she asked. ‘You could look for a souvenir to take home.’

Although she’d been trying to put Lily-Anne out of her mind, checking in with her on Instagram was hard to resist, and so was the thought of confronting her in the flesh. Why should she get away with pretending to be this warm, homely person while spreading hatred on the internet? Let’s see how brave she was when Maddie was standing in front of her. What was that speech from The Merchant of Venice ? ‘If you prick us, do we not bleed?’ Maddie had a vision of declaiming the lines while Lily-Anne grovelled in shamefaced apology.

The sense of righteous indignation woke her up early the next morning, and she had to go for a run to let off steam. Showering afterwards felt like washing Lily-Anne’s poison out of her hair; now she was strong, refreshed, and ready to take control of the narrative. After the short drive to Oregon City, they found a bookshop in the mall that also sold paints and art supplies, so Ben was happy, and then spent half an hour trying to find the café; Lily-Anne’s signage was not great. Eventually they tracked the place down. A few strings of bunting had been draped across what looked like a recently vacated storefront and several tables and mismatched chairs were clustered inside at the back of the room. The floor was dusty and several empty display cases stood against the rear wall, while an attempt had been made to brighten up the place with a gingham tablecloth over a trestle table and some jam jars full of wild flowers. Brownies, chocolate-chip cookies and squares of carrot cake sat under glass domes beside an urn, a coffee machine and a stack of mugs. The café was completely empty apart from Lily-Anne herself, standing behind the table in her signature striped apron. She looked unhealthily thin in real life and her face was lined and tense, her jaw clenched. From the alarm in her eyes and the flush creeping up her neck, it was clear she’d recognised Maddie straight away.

All the biting remarks Maddie had planned flew straight out of her head and they stood there, staring at each other, until Ben asked, ‘May I have a hot chocolate, please?’

Lily-Anne came back to herself with a start. ‘Sure, honey,’ she said, looking anywhere but at him. ‘Coming right up. And for you, ma’am?’

‘I’ll have a coffee,’ Maddie replied.

‘Take a seat wherever you like and I’ll bring them right over,’ Lily-Anne said. ‘There’s plenty of room.’

‘And a chocolate brownie, please,’ Ben added.

Maddie found a table as far away from Lily-Anne as possible and they sat down. A pall of sadness hung over the pop-up, thick as frosting. The bunting sagged and the flowers drooped in their jam jars, scattering pollen across the tablecloth. Lily-Anne had tried so hard with her pop-up and nobody was here. What if Ben and Maddie were her only customers all day?

‘Here you go,’ she said, approaching their table with a tray. ‘Extra marshmallows for you, young man!’

It was excruciating. The coffee burned Maddie’s tongue but she wanted to get it down as quickly as possible, although Ben was taking his time with the hot chocolate and brownie, oblivious to the awkward atmosphere. He soon had a chocolate moustache but there were no napkins.

‘Use your sleeve,’ Maddie whispered. ‘It won’t matter, just this once.’

Back behind the table, Lily-Anne scrolled through her phone, flicked away a few non-existent crumbs and stared at people walking past the door as though she could magnetically attract them inside.

As soon as Ben had finished eating, Maddie got up to pay the bill. She tapped her card against the reader and put a generous tip in the jar, avoiding Lily-Anne’s eye. What was the point in engaging with her? She would only be defensive and Maddie had the upper hand already. Lily-Anne could never bring herself to apologise but now at least she would know Maddie was on to her.

Ben came to join them, bringing his plate. ‘Thank you,’ he said. ‘That brownie was so good.’

‘Why, thank you, darling,’ Lily-Anne cried. ‘Glad you enjoyed it. And don’t you have lovely manners?’

‘He does,’ Maddie said, linking arms with her brother. ‘Ben makes the world a better place. I’m so proud of him.’

‘I’ll bet,’ Lily-Anne replied, her mouth stretching into a rictus grin. ‘Well, you guys have a great day!’

‘You too,’ Maddie said. ‘Good luck with the pop-up.’

And just for a second, she caught the anger and suspicion on Lily-Anne’s face before the mask of civility reimposed itself. How had Maddie let this unhappy, disappointed person take up so much space in her head? Vanessa had been right: the circus would move on and miserable Lily-Anne would be left behind, searching for someone else to attack so she could feel better about herself. She wasn’t worth another minute of their time.

Later that day, she texted Daniel: ‘Found Nightshade! An interesting encounter. Tell you more when I see you next.’ The last sentence sounded a little presumptuous, so she changed it to, ‘Must tell you about it some time.’

Daniel didn’t reply that day, or the next, or the day after that. He was usually so quick to respond to her messages but now it seemed like he was ghosting her, which was disappointing. She’d ended up really enjoying his company and he’d seemed to feel the same. It shouldn’t have mattered so much – he was only a friend, after all – but they had a lot in common and she’d been looking forward to seeing him on her trips back to LA. ‘Are you surprised?’ a voice whispered in her head. ‘After the way you treated him? He’s seen the real you, and who could blame him for running a mile.’

By the time her mom arrived to take Ben back to LA, Maddie had resolved to put Daniel out of her mind. Sharon was on great form, fizzing with energy but also more relaxed than Maddie had seen her for years.

‘Honestly, I feel like a different person,’ she said after lunch, while Ben was packing his belongings and she and Maddie were enjoying a quiet coffee alone. ‘You were right, honey – I needed some time to get to know myself again. Thank you for setting me on the right track. And Ben’s obviously had a wonderful time.’

‘It’s gone pretty well,’ Maddie said. ‘I’m going to miss him.’ She felt suddenly bereft at the thought of being alone.

‘Heard from Daniel recently?’ Sharon asked casually, a few moments later.

Maddie stiffened. ‘Why would I?’

Sharon shrugged. ‘No particular reason. Just that you seemed to get on and he’s such a lovely boy.’

‘Stop trying to pair me up with every random male who comes into my life,’ Maddie snapped. ‘Daniel’s fine but he has a girlfriend and he’s not interested in me.’

‘OK, OK.’ Sharon held up her hands. ‘I’m sorry. I’m your mother, though, and I can’t bear to see you hurting. Of course things are still difficult. After what you’ve been through, no one could blame you for avoiding men for a while, I get that, or chasing guys who won’t make you happy because you feel that’s all you deserve.’ She put a tentative hand around Maddie’s shoulder. ‘But you have to learn to trust again – other people, and yourself.’

Maddie found herself alarmingly close to tears. ‘Do you really think that’s what I’m doing?’ she asked, her voice wobbly.

‘Yes,’ Sharon replied simply. ‘You were betrayed in the cruellest way and that awful Aaron made you believe you’re worthless. Listen to me: you’re smart, and kind, and funny, and sure, I might be biased, but you also happen to be beautiful. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and get back in the saddle. I want my daughter back, the one who isn’t afraid to set her sights high, the one who’ll pick herself up and try again if things don’t work out the first time. I know she’s in there somewhere.’

‘Then you have more faith than I do.’ Maddie laid her head against her mother’s neck and let Sharon rub her back.

‘And as a matter of fact,’ her mom added, ‘a little bird told me Daniel might not have a girlfriend anymore.’

‘Mom!’ Maddie looked up. ‘Enough!’

‘Just saying,’ Sharon murmured.

Once Sharon and Ben had left on their epic road trip back to LA, Maddie took a hike through Forest Park. As she tramped along the wooded trail with the sun warm on her back, her mother’s words ran through her head. She’d been trying so hard not to think about the traumatic time in her life, a couple of years ago, that had nearly derailed her completely. Now she let herself remember what had happened and wonder whether she had been using the experience as an excuse to let herself slide, to settle for second or even third best because it was the easiest option. If she was honest, she’d have to admit her journalism had become formulaic, despite the compliment Daniel had paid her, and possibly even lazy. Her mom was right: these days, she didn’t push herself, thinking it was enough to churn out the requisite number of words and hang on to her job. What kind of legacy would she leave behind with that approach?

She paused for a moment, staring up into the canopy of leaves above. An image of Freya’s typewriter, refurbished now, came into her mind. It wasn’t much practical use in a digital world but she felt like a real, authentic writer when she loaded up the paper feed and pounded the keys, channelling the spirit of her great-grandmother. The keyboard had more or less the same layout she was used to, although the Z and Y letters were swapped, and there were additional keys for the vowels with umlauts, which she just ignored. Still, she loved the smoothness of the keys under her fingers and the vintage feel of the type, even if the letter ‘e’ always jumped, which was irritating.

When Maddie was at college, she’d wanted her words to have a real impact: to make people think, as well as entertaining them. She’d even started writing a novel, and although her plot had fizzled out after a couple of chapters, the process had been exhilarating. It looked as though her great-grandmother, Freya, had been a story-teller, and Maddie might have inherited that talent. Shouldn’t she make the most of it? She could string a sentence together and knew something about structure and narrative tension; perhaps now she was ready to write something that wouldn’t be forgotten in five minutes. The idea of creating a world and filling it with characters born from her imagination burst in her head like a firework. Turning for home, she broke into a run, letting the shadows of the past evaporate in the sunshine.