?Are you a terrorist? The only British who come to Kaliningrad are terrorists??
I?d been unsure of my welcome, but I hadn?t expected that question, especially from an attractive young Russian. I may have been able to give him a decade or two, but I?m not so old as to be oblivious to the charms of a good-looking boy.
?I?m not a terrorist.?
?Then why are you here??
?My mother was born here.?
?You?re German.?
?English.?
?You speak German??
?A little. My grammar?s atrocious.? I?ve learned it?s not good to be mistaken for a German east of the Oder Neisse.
He held out his hand. ?I?m Boris, your driver, a Kaliningrader born and bred. I?m a ship?s officer. I work the American run. Four months on, four off. My wife works. I?m off, bored, and moonlighting.? He picked up my bags. ?If you?re not a terrorist are you a megalomaniac??
Another strange but not unexpected demand. His ?Kaliningrader born and bred? wasn?t lost on me. Sixty-seven years since the Allies had expelled all the East Prussians from their native land, yet some survivors, the ones the Poles and Russians labelled ?megalomaniacs? still nurtured the hope that one day they?d be able to reclaim the land and houses they?d never been compensated for.
?I just want to see what?s left of the city my mother grew up in.?