“Praise God,” she whispered, her hand over her mouth, tears springing to her eyes. She was about to set off in pursuit, but Stepan had wandered a little way away, and she had to turn and grab his hand then lift Irina onto her hip before she could start running.

What a coincidence that Tatiana should be there the same day she was visiting! God must have intended them to be reunited. Or perhaps she came here all the time, mourning the family she had lost. It was the most wonderful feeling in the world to see her. Maria couldn’t wait to introduce her to her children, to invite her back for dinner that evening to meet Peter. Her heart was exploding with joy.

She paused at a point where two paths crossed and scanned the crowd, then spotted Tatiana, on her own, strolling by the lakeside, a parasol in one hand.

“Quick! Run faster!” she beseeched Stepan, almost pulling his arm out of its socket. There was a clear stretch now and they were gaining. Maria couldn’t think what she would say first. Perhaps there would be no need for words.

“Tatiana!” she called, but her voice drifted away on the wind. “Tatiana!” she called again when they were just a few yards away, and the woman turned.

Maria skidded to an abrupt halt, so close now she could have reached out to touch the woman’s coat. She wasn’t Tatiana. She was a buxom, coarse-complexioned peasant who looked to be in her forties. It was not a parasol she was carrying, but a long-handled spade. She must be one of the gardeners.

Maria stood with her mouth open, tears spilling down her cheeks.

“Are you all right?” the woman asked, glancing from her down to the children and back again. “Can I help?”

At that, Maria began to sob. After a moment’s hesitation, the woman put an arm around her and hugged her like a mother.

“I thought you were someone else,” Maria managed to say at last. Little Irina had started to cry too, distressed by her mother’s grief.

The woman touched Maria’s cheek before she broke away. “I hope you find her,” she said, looking deep into her eyes. “I really hope you do.”

Chapter 24

Petrograd, May 1923

AFTER THE CHILDREN WERE ASLEEP IN THEIR BEDS that night, Maria told Peter about her mistake, her voice wobbly with emotion. They were sitting at the table, but he pulled his chair closer to put his arm around her and she pressed her leg against his.

“Where do you think Tatiana is now?” she asked. It wasn’t the first time they’d had this conversation, but each time she hoped for some new insight.