‘You came tumbling in so suddenly,’ she said and, biting her lips, she consulted a small clock standing on the shelf. ‘Like snow out of a cloudless sky … It’s fast. No, it’s stopped. I’m having company tonight, and here you arrive. It’s a crazy situation …’

‘Nonsense, Mother. They’ll come, they’ll see your son has arrived, and very soon they’ll evaporate. And before the evening’s over you and I will go to some music hall, and have supper somewhere … I remember seeing an African show – that was really something! Imagine – about fifty Negroes, and a rather large, the size of, say –’

The doorbell buzzed loudly in the front hall. Olga Kirillovna, who had perched on the arm of a chair, gave a start and straightened up.

Wait, I’ll get it,’ said Nikolay, rising.

She caught him by the sleeve. Her face was twitching. The bell stopped. The caller waited.

It must be your guests,’ said Nikolay. ‘Your twenty-five guests. We have to let them in.’

His mother gave a brusque shake of her head and resumed listening intently.

It isn’t right –’ began Nikolay.

She pulled at his sleeve, whispering, ‘Don’t you dare! I don’t want to … Don’t you dare …’

The bell started buzzing again, insistently and irritably this time. And it buzzed on for a long time.

‘Let me go,’ said Nikolay. ‘This is silly. If somebody rings you have to answer the door. What are you frightened of?’

‘Don’t you dare – do you hear,’ she repeated, spasmodically clutching at his hand. ‘I implore you … Nicky, Nicky, Nicky! … Don’t!’

The bell stopped. It was replaced by a series of vigorous knocks, produced, it seemed, by the stout knob of a cane.

Nikolay headed resolutely for the front hall. But before he reached it his mother had grabbed him by the shoulders, and tried with all her might to drag him back, whispering all the while, ‘Don’t you dare … Don’t you dare … For God’s sake! …’

The bell sounded again, briefly and angrily.

‘It’s your business,’ said Nikolay with a laugh and, thrusting his hands into his pockets, walked the length of the room. This is a real nightmare, he thought, and chuckled again.

The ringing had stopped. All was still. Apparently the ringer had got fed up and left. Nikolay went up to the table, contemplated the splendid cake with its bright frosting and twenty-five festive candles, and the two wineglasses. Nearby, as if hiding in the bottle’s shadow, lay a small white cardboard box. He picked it up and took off the lid. It contained a brand-new, rather tasteless silver cigarette case.

‘And that’s that,’ said Nikolay.