“You had a powerful effect on all the young men there,” Peter said, with a twinkle. “I wonder what became of Ivan Skorokhodov? I bet he never forgot you.”

Maria knew what he was thinking: that Ivan had been Stepan’s father. Should she tell him the truth now? What would be the point?

“I always felt guilty that Ivan went to jail because of me. I was probably a little too flirtatious with him.”

Stepan turned to her, a question in his eyes, while Peter grinned. These two men, who were so alike, both believed a different version of the past and it didn’t matter one iota.

“What will you reply to the Australian woman?” she asked Stepan. “You should at least thank her for her letter.”

“I don’t know.” He shrugged. “I’ll think about it.”

It was what he always said when delaying a decision: if one of his children asked if they could vacation by the seaside, or if Ludmilla wanted to redecorate the apartment. It usually meant he would do nothing at all.

Chapter 65

Leningrad, June 1979

MARIA WAS WORKING IN HER GARDEN, SOWING CARROTS and runner beans, when Stepan rushed around the corner of the building and hurried across to her. She looked up, surprised, because it was midday and he should have been at work.

“Mama, there’s something I have to tell you,” he said, breathing heavily as if he had run all the way. “Please come and sit down.”

Maria’s blood chilled. Someone had died. Who was it? Please let it not be one of her children or grandchildren, because she couldn’t bear that. She glanced around to where Peter was sitting on a bench, enjoying the warmth of the sunshine.

Stepan took her arm and led her to the bench, helping her to sit beside Peter, then closed his eyes before beginning to speak, as if choosing his words with care.

“It looks as if they have found the grave of your family in Ekaterinburg,” he said.

Maria clutched her hands to her face and felt goose bumps prick her skin. She had long wished for this news, but at the same time it was hard to hear. Tears came and Peter put his arm around her and pulled her close.

Stepan continued. “A colleague of mine called Geli Ryabov visited the children of Comrade Yurovsky last year, and they showed him some notes their father made about the murders. Using these, and with the help of local geologists and chemistry experts, he found a spot where there are a number of skeletons.”

Maria’s tears were flowing freely now as an ancient grief was resurrected.

“He took three of the skulls to Moscow for tests and he’s convinced one is your father’s, but he says no ministry wants to get involved. It’s still too politically sensitive.”