Fedor was embarrassed that he had been followed with so little difficulty. “You mustn’t tell him where she is,” he pleaded.

“Of course I won’t,” Maria agreed. “But you must tell me the truth.”

“I couldn’t stay any longer with a man who scares me. You’ve seen him, Maria.” Annushka’s eyes were pleading for understanding. “He’s moody and unpredictable. He can switch from pleasant to enraged in the blink of an eye. And he’s so big, he terrifies me.”

“But is it fair to stop him seeing his son?” Maria asked.

“If I let him see the boy, he would never give him back. He would hold him hostage to force me to return.”

Fedor looked on, lips pursed, and Maria couldn’t tell what he was thinking. Many Russian men had a temper. Yuri was not alone in being volatile.

“Yet here you are a prisoner. You don’t dare leave the apartment in case one of Yuri’s colleagues sees you on the street. Your son cannot go to school in Leningrad or he will find out.” Maria was thinking aloud. “Is there anywhere else you could go? Perhaps to a relative in the countryside? If I tell Yuri that’s where you are, but that I don’t have the address, perhaps he will give up looking eventually.”

“I suppose I could go to my cousin in Moscow.” She glanced at Fedor. “For a while at least.”

Maria nodded. “Very well. That’s what I’ll say. Don’t tell me your cousin’s name, but leave as soon as you can. I will wait another week before telling him.”

Annushka ran across and hugged her, kissing her on both cheeks. “Bless you for your kindness to us,” she said. “I hope good fortune will be with you.”

“With you too,” Maria replied, meaning it.

* * *

When she met Yuri a week later, Maria waited first to hear what information he had for the woman who had approached her in the cemetery.

“Your friend’s husband is being questioned. I think the charges are not serious and that he will be released within a week, if he cooperates.” He paused, and Maria knew what he meant: if the man agreed to become an informer.

“Thank you.” She hesitated, feeling nervous. If Yuri was as quick-tempered as Annushka claimed, he might lose his temper over what she had to say next. “I have some information for you,” she began. “I hear Annushka has gone to stay with a cousin in Moscow. Your son is with her.”

Yuri blew out impatiently. “Without telling me. The bitch.” He pulled out a Belomorkanal, tapped it on the dashboard, then lit it. “When will she be back?”