Len Deighton, London Match - literature save 2

'Yes,' said Bret sardonically. 'And you have yet to mention the German-born KarlMarx.'For a moment I thought von Munte was going to reply seriously to the joke andmake a fool of himself, but he'd lived amid signals, innuendoes, and half-truths longenough to recognize the joke for what it was. He smiled.'Can there ever be lasting peace in Europe?' said Bret wearily. 'Now, if I'm tobelieve my ears, you say Germany still has territorial aspirations.' For Bret it was all agame, but poor old von Munte could not play it.'For our own provinces,' said von Munte stolidly.'For Poland and pieces of Russia,' said Bret. 'You'd better be clear on that.'Silas poured more of his precious Chateau Palmer in a gesture of placation for allconcerned. 'You're from Pomerania, aren't you, Walter?' It was an invitation to talk ratherthan a real question, for by now Silas knew every last detail of von Munte's familyhistory.'I was born in Falkenburg. My father had a big estate there.''That's near the Baltic,' said Bret, feigning interest to make what he considered ameasure of reconciliation.'Pomerania,' said von Munte. 'Do you know it, Bernard?' he asked me, because Iwas the closest person there to being a fellow-countryman.'Yes,' I said. 'Many lakes and hills. They call it Pomeranian Switzerland, don'tthey?''Not any longer.''A beautiful place,' I said. 'But as I remember it, damned cold, Walter.''You must go in the summer,' said von Munte. 'It's one of the most enchantingplaces in the world.' I looked at Frau Doktor von Munte. I had the feeling that the moveto the West was a disappointment for her. Her English was poor and she keenly felt thesocial disadvantage she suffered as a refugee. With the talk of Pomerania she brightenedand tried to follow the conversation.'You've been back?' Silas asked.'Yes, my wife and I went there about ten years ago. It was foolish. One shouldnever go back.''Tell us about it,' said Silas.At first it seemed as if the memories were too painful for von Munte to recount,but after a pause he told us about his trip. 'There is something nightmarish about goingback to your homeland and finding that it's occupied exclusively by foreigners. It was themost curious experience I've ever had - to write "birthplace Falkenburg" and then"destination Zlocieniec".''The same place, now given a Polish name,' said Frank Harrington. 'But you musthave been prepared for that.''I was prepared in my mind but not in my heart,' said von Munte. He turned to hiswife and repeated this in rapid German. She nodded dolefully.'The train connection from Berlin was never good,' von Munte went on. 'Evenbefore the war we had to change twice. This time we went by bus. I tried to borrow a car,but it was not possible. The bus was convenient. We went to Neustettin, my wife's hometown. We had difficulty finding the house in which she'd lived as a child.''Couldn't you ask for directions?' said Frank.