“No problem,” he said, putting an arm around her shoulders and hoisting her to her feet. He was strong, like Peter; she could feel the muscles through his jacket sleeve. It took almost no effort for him to support her as they walked. Maria didn’t talk much, conserving her energy for the effort of putting one foot in front of the other, but the soldier chatted about a show he had seen the night before at the Musical Comedy Theatre.

“Can you believe they are still performing? The auditorium was almost full. I don’t think I’ve ever laughed so much,” he told her. “I’ve only got a week’s leave and it was too far to go home, but Leningraders have such incredible spirit that I’ve really enjoyed my stay.”

When they reached the street door, Maria fumbled for her keys. “Please,” she said. “Come upstairs and let me give you some bread for your trouble.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” he exclaimed. “I get army rations. Take care of yourself, ma’am.”

Back in the apartment, she chopped the elecampane root and cooked it in a little water. Peter used to mix it with honey, but all she could manage was a few grains of sugar to counter the bitter taste. Mikhail swallowed it then fell back on his pillows exhausted and slept. Maria wanted to say a prayer for the soldier who had helped her, but realized with shame that she hadn’t even asked his name.

* * *

Two days later Katya began coughing and whooping and Maria moved Irina and Yelena into her own bedroom to separate them from the invalids. She made yet another soup from dandelion leaves and split her own bread ration between her sick children so they got an extra slice each. She kept a pot of water boiling in the room where they slept, hoping the steam would ease the congestion in their lungs, and fed them elecampane root several times a day.

Each morning when she opened her eyes she prayed they would have turned the corner, but as she lay listening it wasn’t long before she heard the sound of convulsive coughing followed by a gasped whoop.

She took a week off work, and after her boss insisted she return, Irina stayed at home to look after her siblings. When Maria explained to her colleagues why she had been absent, one of them had a suggestion.

“The children’s homes on the other side of Lake Ladoga are well run now. It’s not like the early days of the war when everything was chaos. My children are in home number 44, and they write that while conditions are not luxurious, they at least get hot meals every day, and there’s a school where their education continues. Perhaps you should send your two over there to be nursed back to health?”