As they walked, Stepan and Ludmilla chatted about the restoration of the Peterhof palace; both were passionate about the craftsmanship. With Maria’s permission, Stepan had told Ludmilla of his mother’s Romanov past, which meant they could talk openly when the three of them were together.

“I wish you would visit the palace,” Stepan said. “There are many matters I would love to ask your advice about.”

He had asked before and Maria always said no. She did not like to be reminded of the opulence of the first eighteen years of her life. It felt fundamentally wrong that at a time when Russia’s young men were being blown to pieces in their thousands, she and her siblings had lived in grand palaces. She still felt fury with Stalin and the party apparatchiks who had abandoned the people of Leningrad, and it helped her to understand the anger ordinary Russians had felt for the Romanovs in 1917.

They reached the graveside and Maria set out the picnic she had brought, greeting Peter silently. She liked quiet so she could tell him everything that had happened since her last visit and try to imagine his replies. She knew he was there, somewhere, even though he had not believed in the heaven of her church.

“Mama, Ludmilla and I have some wonderful news,” Stepan said, “and we wanted to tell you here, in this special place.”

Maria looked at him, clasping her hands to her breast. What could it be?

“We’re having a baby.” Ludmilla beamed. “It’s due in June. Your first grandchild, Maria. You’ll be a babushka.”

She was so choked, she could hardly speak. She hugged Ludmilla, hugged Stepan, wiped her eyes. “Do you hear that, Peter?” she said at last, looking at the grassy mound where he lay among so many others. “We’ll be grandparents.” She laughed, shook her head. “I couldn’t be happier.”

“There’s something else.” Stepan glanced at Ludmilla. “We have decided to move to Petrodvorets before the baby is born and we would like you to come with us. The air is cleaner than in the city, and I will be able to come home at lunchtime and spend plenty of time with my new child.”

Maria felt a twinge of jealousy. She had always feared Ludmilla would take her elder son from her, and now it was happening. “I can’t leave Leningrad,” she replied. “I have three children here, and I need to be home when Katya returns.”

“Irina, Mikhail, and Yelena can look after themselves,” Stepan argued. “But Ludmilla and I have no experience with babies and will need your help.”

That was tempting. Maria loved babies. “I could visit at weekends,” she offered. “But I have my job at the factory during the week.”