“My goodness, I hope you two have more interesting subjects to discuss,” Maria said. “Let me take your coat. Please sit down. Have something to drink.” She had laid out a choice of tea, barley water, or kvass.

Stepan kept his thoughts to himself while the women chatted. Yelena wanted to know where Ludmilla’s coat came from, which led to a discussion of the new clothes shops that had opened in Gostiniy Dvor, then to the thriving black market in clothing coupons, which were easily available under the counter at any street market.

Before the war, they could never have trusted a stranger like this, Maria mused. They would have talked in generalities and certainly never have admitted cheating the system in any way. Of course, there were still informers, there were still purges, and the NKVD still turned up to make arrests in the night, but not nearly as often.

When Maria went to the kitchen to finish preparing the food, Ludmilla followed her.

“Can I help?” she asked, then caught sight of the spread. “Heavens, you’ve gone to so much trouble!”

Maria had made little side dishes of potatoes, salads, and pickled vegetables to go around the centerpiece of a whole salmon Stepan had caught, cooked with fresh dill from the garden she had cultivated in the courtyard. It did look fetching. “Thank you.” She smiled. “I’m very glad to meet you. Stepan has never brought a friend home before.”

Ludmilla colored slightly and Maria was pleased. That meant she liked him too. “Tell me about your family,” she said as she placed serving spoons onto each dish. “How did they fare in the war?”

“My father was killed at the barricades in 1943,” Ludmilla said. “Stepan knew him slightly, and I’m glad of that. He was a good man.”

“I’m sorry for your loss. Did your mother survive?”

“She was executed in 1937,” Ludmilla said, her tone flat.

Maria gave a sharp intake of breath. Normally no one would admit this.

Ludmilla continued. “She was a devout woman and refused to give up her religious observance even when warned repeatedly by the NKVD. At the time I felt angry that she did not hide it for the sake of her family. But now I think she was extraordinarily brave to stand up for her beliefs.”

Maria shook her head. “She must have been torn between her family and her church. What a tragic story!”

Ludmilla nodded. “We all have our sorrows. Stepan told me about your husband. It’s such a waste.”

“The purges, the war—I feel as though God forsook our country long ago. As if we are paying the price for ancient sins.”

Ludmilla reached out and touched Maria’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry about your daughter too,” she said. “If there is anything I can do to help with your search, you must ask.”