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Lloyd could remember vividly the von Ulrich family's trip to London in 1925. He had been ten, old enough to feel embarrassed that he spoke no German while Erik and Carla, aged five and three, were bilingual. That was when Ethel and Maud had patched up their quarrel.
He made his way to the restaurant, Bistro Robert. The interior was art deco, with unforgivingly rectangular chairs and tables, and elaborate iron lamp stands with colored glass shades; but he liked the starched white napkins standing at attention beside the plates.
The other three were already there. The women were striking, he realized as he approached the table: both poised, well dressed, attractive, and confident. They were getting admiring glances from other diners. He wondered how much of his mother's modish dress sense had been picked up from her aristocratic friend.
When they had ordered, Ethel explained her trip. "I lost my parliamentary seat in 1931," she said. "I hope to win it back at the next election, but meanwhile I have to make a living. Fortunately, Maud, you taught me to be a journalist."
"I didn't teach you much," Maud said. "You had a natural talent."
"I'm writing a series of articles about the Nazis for the News Chronicle, and I have a contract to write a book for a publisher called Victor Gollancz. I brought Lloyd as my interpreter--he's studying French and German."
Lloyd observed her proud smile and felt he did not deserve it. "My translation skills have not been much tested," he said. "So far we've mostly met people like you, who speak perfect English."
Lloyd had ordered breaded veal, a dish he had never even seen in England. He found it delicious. While they were eating, Walter said to him: "Shouldn't you be at school?"
"Mam thought I would learn more German this way, and the school agreed."
"Why don't you come and work for me in the Reichstag for a while? Unpaid, I'm afraid, but you'd be speaking German all day."
Lloyd was thrilled. "I'd love to. What a marvelous opportunity!"
"If Ethel can spare you," Walter added.
She smiled. "Perhaps I can have him back now and again, when I really need him?"
"Of course."
Ethel reached across the table and touched Walter's hand. It was an intimate gesture, and Lloyd realized that the bond between these three was very close. "How kind you are, Walter," she said.
"Not really. I can always use a bright young assistant who understands politics."
Ethel said: "I'm not sure I understand politics anymore. What on earth is happening here in Germany?"
Maud said: "We were doing all right in the midtwenties. We had a democratic government and a growing economy. But everything was ruined by the Wall Street crash of 1929. Now we're in the depths of a depression." Her voice shook with an emotion that seemed close to grief. "You can see a hundred men standing in line for one advertised job. I look at their faces. They'r
e desperate. They don't know how they're going to feed their children. Then the Nazis offer them hope, and they ask themselves: What have I got to lose?"
Walter seemed to think she might be overstating the case. In a more cheerful tone he said: "The good news is that Hitler has failed to win over a majority of Germans. In the last election the Nazis got a third of the votes. Nevertheless they were the largest party, but fortunately Hitler only leads a minority government."
"That's why he demanded another election," Maud put in. "He needs an overall majority to turn Germany into the brutal dictatorship he wants."
"Will he get it?" Ethel asked.
"No," said Walter.
"Yes," said Maud.
Walter said: "I don't believe the German people will ever actually vote for a dictatorship."
"But it won't be a fair election!" Maud said angrily. "Look what happened to my magazine today. Anyone who criticizes the Nazis is in danger. Meanwhile, their propaganda is everywhere."
Lloyd said: "Nobody seems to fight back!" He wished he had arrived a few minutes earlier at the Democrat office this morning, so that he could have punched a few Brownshirts. He realized he was making a fist, and forced himself to open his hand. But the indignation did not go away. "Why don't left-wingers raid the offices of Nazi magazines? Give them a taste of their own medicine!"
"We must not meet violence with violence!" Maud said emphatically. "Hitler is looking for an excuse to crack down--to declare a national emergency, sweep away civil rights, and put his opponents in jail." Her voice took on a pleading note. "We must avoid giving him that pretext--no matter how hard it is."
They finished their meal. The restaurant began to empty out. As their coffee was served they were joined by the owner, Walter's second cousin Robert von Ulrich, and the chef, Jorg. Robert had been a diplomat at the Austrian embassy in London before the Great War, while Walter was doing the same thing at the German embassy there--and falling in love with Maud.
Robert resembled Walter, but was more fussily dressed, with a gold pin in his tie, seals on his watch chain, and heavily slicked hair. Jorg was younger, a blond man with delicate features and a cheerful smile. The two had been prisoners of war together in Russia. Now they lived in an apartment over the restaurant.
