‘We’ve always been the most hated people in the town — a little bit more or less won’t make a lot of difference, will it?’

And with that she nodded to him and went back indoors.

The rest of the afternoon passed agonizingly slowly. Once again they were back to this dreadful waiting, which they had hoped was finally behind them — and how often in the coming days and months they would find themselves waiting again, waiting and forever waiting! From time to time Doll stopped what he was doing and went down to the shore of the lake, either alone or with his wife; across the water from here, they could see a line of houses in the main street of the town. All they could see were the empty shells of buildings, with not a sign of human life anywhere, but their ears were filled with the endless roar of heavy vehicles and the blare of horns — a huge supply train rolling unseen, ghostlike, through the town and heading west.

Eventually — it was approaching dusk by now — the young woman shouted from the house that supper was nearly ready. Doll, who had spent most of the last hour fiddling about rather than working, packed up his tools, put them in the shed, and washed himself off in the scullery. They sat in the corner, around the circular supper table: the old grandmother, Doll, his wife, and the two children. The conversation went constantly back and forth between the old grandmother and her daughter. The old woman, who, virtually paralyzed, was confined to her armchair, was hungry for news, and this evening her daughter was very happy to oblige (which was not always the case, by any means). The grandmother wanted to know everything in exact detail, and would rather hear a thing three times than once. She bombarded her daughter with questions such as: ‘And what did she say then? — And what did you say to that? — And what did she say after that?’

Normally, Doll was happy to listen to this steady burble of female chitchat, always wondering how the story would have changed inside the grandmother’s old head the next time it was related. But this evening, when his good mood from the early part of the day had completely dissipated, it took a huge effort on his part to sit and listen to this idle chatter without becoming argumentative. He knew he was being unfair; but then he was in the mood to be unfair.

Suddenly the boy at the table called out under his breath: ‘Russians!!’ A noise at the door made them all stop talking and stare, the door opened, and three Russians entered the room.

‘Everyone stay where they are!’ commanded Doll under his breath, and stepped towards the visitors, his clenched left fist raised in greeting, and with his young wife at his side, who didn’t think the order to stay seated applied to her. Now Doll was able to smile again, the tension, the angry impatience, had all gone, the time of waiting was finally over, and a new page had been turned in the book of destiny … With a smile on his face, he said, ‘Tovarich!’ and extended his right hand to welcome the three visitors.

Doll would never forget the manner and appearance of those first three Russians who entered his house that day. The one in front was a slim young man with a black bandage over his left eye. His movements were quick and nimble, there was an aura of brightness about him, and he wore a blue tunic and a sheepskin cap on his head.

The man behind him looked like a giant in comparison with this rather wiry and dainty figure, and seemed to tower all the way to the ceiling beams. He had a big, grey peasant’s face with a huge drooping moustache, which was black but heavily streaked with grey. The most striking thing about this giant was the short, curved sabre in a black-leather scabbard that he wore at an angle across the front of his body, which was wrapped in a grey greatcoat. The third man, who was standing behind these two, was a simple, very young soldier, with a face that was only now starting to take on a character of its own. He was carrying a submachine gun with a curved, segmented ammunition clip under his arm.

Such were the three Russians, the long-awaited guests, whom Doll welcomed with his clenched left fist raised in greeting and right hand outstretched, the word ‘Tovarich!’ — Comrade! — on his lips.

But as he did so, as he stood like this in front of the three men, something odd happened. The clenched left fist was lowered, Doll’s right hand crept back into his pocket, and his mouth did not repeat the word that was meant to forge a bond between him and the three Russians. Nor was he smiling any more; instead, his face had taken on a dark, brooding expression. He suddenly dropped his gaze, which a moment earlier had been directed at the three, and looked at the ground.

How long they stayed like this — whether for two or three minutes, or just a few seconds — Doll was unable to say later. Suddenly the man in the blue tunic stepped forward between him and his wife and went on into the house, followed by the other two. Neither Mr. nor Mrs. Doll followed them, but just stood there in silence, each avoiding the other’s gaze. Then they heard the boy cry out: ‘There they are again!’

Now they could see the three Russians at the back of the house. They had exited via the scullery; it had only taken them a moment to go through the entire house, which was basically a cabin with just four rooms. And now they were striding past the shed, without pausing or looking round, as if they knew exactly where they were going; they walked out on the jetty, climbed into the boat, cast off, and a few minutes later they had disappeared from sight behind the bushes that lined the shore.

‘They’ve gone!’ cried the boy again.

‘There’ll be more on their way!’ said the young wife. ‘That was probably just a first check to see who is living in each house.’ She shot a glance at her husband, who was still standing there with his hands thrust into his pockets, brooding morosely.