“Ma, I said I was fine. Are you staying for lunch?”

But Olga Konstantinovna bent down, trying to look her daughter in the face.

“You ought to go to church yourself once in a while. You don’t even have to pray, just be there.”

“Oh, do cut it out with your church, will you Mum? Are you staying for lunch or not?”

“You could at least go once. You can be all clever-clever with your arguments, but to live with a clean conscience, that’s difficult. Just go. God is merciful. He’ll rejoice in your presence. If we can’t solve our own problems, how are we supposed to help others? Tykhon picks up on these things, you know.”

Olga Konstantinovna’s eyes shone with triumph and compassion. Maria took a step towards the door, shaking her head. Her mother sensed the intention, but she remained fixed on the spot, immovable as a concrete block.

“Mum, I know how it always plays out. I only have to hint at something being wrong and you trot out your ‘I-told-you-so.” I’m fine. And I’d be even better if you weren’t on my case all the time.”

“Nobody will be on your case in church.”

“Mum! Please! Are you staying for lunch? If you are, take off your coat. If not, then leave, because you’re really starting to upset me.”

“I’m going. There’s some soup at home that needs finishing. Otherwise it’ll go off.”

Olga Konstantinovna stepped out and pressed the button for the lift.

Maria closed the door with a sigh of relief.

She stood there for several seconds, holding onto the handle, leaning her forehead against the rough metal of the door, peering through the spyhole. The door felt cold. Olga Konstantinovna was still standing in the stairwell. She silently slouched, tired and motionless, resting her palm against the wall. Her coat hung shapelessly from her shoulders. Maria wanted to tear herself from the peephole and go out and hug her tight, but the lift arrived, and Olga Konstantinovna departed from this melancholic tableau. Tykhon’s laughter and exultant squealing came in from the bedroom. Andrei’s low voice murmured approval. They had won.

“I won’t go,” Maria thought. “I’ll be damned if I go.” She again peered through the spyhole. The edge of the letterbox was visible on the right.