“We want to establish your motives for keeping such records. It is the role of the state, not an individual.” The boss spoke like a machine, as if reciting some rulebook.

Maria thought hard, but couldn’t see any harm in showing them her files. “Come in,” she offered, standing back to let them pass. Stepan was hovering in his bedroom doorway and she saw a look of complicity pass between him and the Party boss. That was odd.

She led the men to her room and opened her file, pulling out the first card while balancing a surprisingly patient Yelena on her hip. “You see? I write the name and address on one side, plus the names of the family members they wish to locate. On the other”—she flipped one over to demonstrate—“a quick character sketch to remind me.”

“How much do you charge? And who gave you permission?” the boss asked.

She snuggled Yelena to her chest, worried the baby would catch cold if this interrogation continued much longer. “I have never charged a single ruble. It’s a very small-scale operation based on my circle of acquaintances. And I didn’t realize I needed permission; perhaps you could tell me where I must apply?”

They looked at each other, then the sidekick asked, “Where is your husband this evening? Maybe we should discuss it with him.”

Maria glanced at the clock. “My husband is a shock worker and is seldom home by this time. Should I ask him to contact you tomorrow?”

They exchanged glances again, and their attitude transformed. It was the first time Maria fully appreciated the enhanced status Peter had achieved.

“Perhaps we should not disturb him,” the boss said. “We will make inquiries and let you know if you are permitted to continue with your enterprise.”

“I’m most grateful.” Maria bowed her head. “Now if I might dry my baby before she catches a chill . . .” Yelena gurgled at them. She had been trying to talk since the moment she was born but didn’t yet have any recognizable words.

After the two men left, Stepan came to stand beside her, looking sheepish. “I’m sorry, Mama,” he said. “I told them about your card files at the Pioneers last week.”

At the age of ten he had graduated from the Young Octobrists and become a keen Pioneer. “We were asked about any unusual things our parents did and I told because I was proud of you. I didn’t realize they would be cross.”

Maria smiled at him. “They’re not cross. They are just going to let me know if I need permission. Don’t worry about it, son.” She ruffled his hair.

When Peter got home later, she followed him to the communal bathroom to help him wash off the grime of the day and told him what had occurred.