She tried to think of a sentimental keepsake she could send with each, and at the last minute, she slipped in some wooden animals Peter had carved for them when they were little: a waddling duck that could be pulled on a string for Katya, and a roaring tiger for Mikhail. They would chuckle when they unpacked their bags and found them.

“You must look out for each other no matter what,” she told them. “Insist you are not to be separated. Write to me when you arrive and ask at the children’s home for help in posting your letters. As soon as the siege is lifted, I will come and find you.”

“What if we are better before then, Mama? Can’t we come home early?” Mikhail asked.

She nodded. “Of course. Come back as soon as you can. But both of you must travel together. Don’t forget that rule.”

The bell rang at four and Maria gathered her coat and pulled on her boots so she could accompany them to Finland Station. Yuri was driving an NKVD van and motioned for them to climb in the back. There were no windows, just narrow benches to sit on, and it made Maria feel queasy. Peter had been driven off in one of these vans and they’d never seen him again. She shook the thought away. The children were anxious about the journey and it was important that she sound cheerful and positive. Katya’s forehead was burning hot; Mikhail’s not so bad. Was she doing the right thing sending them off with an NKVD officer? What would Peter think? She hoped he would agree with her decision.

At the station, Yuri bypassed the teeming mass of people, showed his ID papers to a guard, then carried their bags onto a train already standing at the platform. It would take them on a one-hour journey to Osinovets, before they transferred onto the Ice Road. Maria gave both children a last hug, squeezing so tight they could scarcely breathe. “Write as soon as you arrive,” she instructed for the hundredth time.

“We will,” Mikhail promised, but Katya was too poorly to answer.

Yuri helped them onto the train and Maria stood watching until it pulled away in a pall of smoke.

What am I doing? she panicked. Have I just made the biggest mistake of my life? If so, it was too late to change her mind. She turned and trudged home with dragging feet. The streets echoed to the sound of the metronome that was now broadcast from public loudspeakers in between classical music concerts and news announcements, like the heavily beating heart of the city. Tonight it felt ominous. When would she see them again? Pray God it would be soon.

Chapter 44

Leningrad, February 1942