Just before they sprinkled it with petrol and set fire to it, I caught sight of Emerence’s ikonostasis. We were all there, pinned to the fabric over the doll’s ribcage: the Grossman family, my husband, Viola, the Lieutenant Colonel, the nephew, the baker, the lawyer’s son, and herself, the young Emerence, with radiant golden hair, in her maid’s uniform and little crested cap, holding a baby in her arms.
