Edith heard herself cry out, a wordless sound that came from the depth of all that was broken in her. The absence of Demetrius, of his soul in the world, of his love for her, overwhelmed her. Snow, in all its forgetfulness, had buried him, flake by gentle flake. And only when the mountain gods roared had they remembered their buried treasure and reluctantly returned him. A wedding gift.

A crowd of people had come out of their houses to stare. From behind his shuttered windows, the butcher was watching.

‘Misha will pay for this,’ he said under his breath. ‘Yes, he will pay.’

Edith’s limbs had lost their strength. Flora, Lena and Sorina gathered round her. She couldn’t think why they were there. For a moment there was only the past, no future, the present a gaping wound.

‘I knew I would find him,’ said Misha. ‘We’ll take him to the blacksmith.’

In the failing light, a small procession of women followed the sleigh as Misha pulled it to the forge. The news had already reached the blacksmith and he walked out to meet it. Together, he and Misha carried Demetrius’ body into the house and laid it on a wooden table.

‘He will be given his last rites later,’ said the blacksmith, taking the violin.

‘Do you want to be left alone with him?’ Misha asked Edith.

Edith nodded.

The door grated on the floor as the blacksmith pulled it to. A candle in a metal holder sat on the windowsill, a draught causing the light to flicker across Demetrius’ face. He looked peaceful, a smile on his lips. Edith rested her hand on his frozen fingers. She bent and kissed him.

‘What happened to you?’

There was only the silence of the dead.

Edith felt her soul shaking as if grief would loosen it from its earthly moorings. When she saw her reflection in the window, she realised it was dark. There were voices outside the room, and the blacksmith appeared at the door and showed in the mayor. Behind him were the doctor and the priest. The mayor shook his head, or so Edith thought. Edith longed for words.

‘It’s best that you leave now, Edith,’ said the mayor. ‘Go home. I’m sure there’s much to do for tomorrow.’

Edith stared at him defiantly.

‘We must examine the body,’ said the doctor. ‘Without you here,’ he added sharply and summoned Vanda who had been waiting in another room.

She took Edith’s arm, but Edith brushed it away and shook her head.

‘We’ll stay,’ said Vanda. ‘If it’s all the same to you.’

‘Women,’ the priest muttered under his breath.

The doctor took off his jacket, hung it over a chair and rolled up his sleeves. Strange, thought Edith, how these details, these unimportant gestures take on such significance. She sensed that the three men were dreading what they might find.