“I’m still cautious when talking to strangers,” Maria said. “Things don’t change overnight. But you are my neighbor and you have suffered so much that I trust you. If you ever want to talk about your experiences and don’t want to distress your wife, you can tell me. I’m an old lady who has lived through many sorrows and I am strong enough to listen to more.”

Viktor lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it. “Thank you,” he whispered, close to tears. “No one has been kind to me for such a long time that it makes me emotional. Forgive me.”

* * *

That evening, after the children were in bed, Maria told Stepan and Ludmilla of her conversation with Viktor.

“He seems broken,” she said. “I don’t know if he can ever recover from what he has been through. Sixteen years have been stolen from him: years when he missed his children growing up, when his wife struggled to cope on her own. I don’t understand . . .” She turned to Stepan. “You were a good little Bolshevik when you were younger. Did you change your views after what happened to your father?”

“I changed my views long before then,” he said, “because of what my father told me about the informers and purges at his work. The ideas behind Communism are sound, but the wrong people got into power.”

“Why did the Russian people not rise up in protest?” Maria asked. “They rose to overthrow the Romanovs, but not Stalin. Explain it to me.”

Ludmilla replied, “The fear crept up gradually. It was easier to keep quiet while the NKVD were terrorizing someone else’s family. When my mother was arrested I couldn’t find a single person to testify on her behalf. They said she shouldn’t have been so stupid as to make a stand over religion. They thought silence would keep them safe—then they started getting arrested anyway.”

“Peter spoke up for other people,” Maria said bitterly, “and look where it got him.”

She hadn’t been to the cemetery for over a month now. She would go that weekend, she decided, so she could tell him that Irina was getting married to Ludmilla’s cousin; the wedding was set for spring the following year. Maybe there would be more grandchildren soon. She certainly hoped so. Perhaps Irina could be persuaded to move to Petrodvorets so Maria could look after her little ones alongside Stepan’s.

* * *

One morning in late April, Maria took the children to the palace’s Lower Park. The ice on the ponds was thinning and they entertained themselves throwing stones to crack it.