his pursuit of the girl.
With determination, Mark followed the siblings. He still wanted to walk them home, but he needed to adjust the plan so as not to be too obvious.
Fortunately, by evening, the platform was teeming with vacationers, creating a crowd in which it was easy to get lost. The boys tried to stick close to the station building, but their attempts were almost foiled a couple of times when Vladimir, not particularly adept at this, inexplicably pulled Bertha towards the timetable. Mark attempted to blend into the background, but Valeriy's exaggerated gestures drew attention. Their predicament was saved by two little girls who began crying loudly and whimpering. Bertha got distracted, and the novice detectives managed to slip away in the crowd. They were the last to board the next carriage, keeping a discreet eye on Vladimir and Bertha until they reached the Finland station.
The task became more challenging as the brother and sister made their way to the streetcar stop, where the pursuers could be easily spotted.
«You have to sit in the third or, better, the fourth car,» insisted Valeriy. «That way, they won't notice us.»
Mark dismissed the suggestion, saying, «Oh, come on. We won't even see where they're getting off.»
They settled into the second car with difficulty, squeezing past other passengers and hearing unflattering remarks directed at them. Seated by the window near the door, they spent the entire journey.
Finally, Bertha and Vladimir got off at the crossroads of Liteyny Avenue (Volodarsky Avenue, of course – thanks, conductor!) with Nevsky Avenue (Avenue of the 25th of October). Seeing a crowd at the bus stop on the opposite side, they opted to walk instead. The couple passed Vosstaniya Square and turned onto Suvorovsky Avenue. After crossing one intersection, they entered a narrow street lined with mediocre stone buildings, sparsely populated. The boys had to watch from around the corner. At one point, Bertha glanced back, as if sensing their presence, and the boys had to quickly hide. Once they dared to reemerge, the street was empty – they had missed them! But just as they were about to mark the right entrance, one of the front doors slowly closed, almost rewarding them for their efforts. Left with no other option, they beat a hasty retreat, unsure if the beautiful girl might decide to look out of the window.
Satisfied with both the outcome and the adventure, the cadets made it back to their barracks on time. Mark exulted, «What a coincidence! 3rd Sovetskaya, 3rd Meshchanskaya! Another good sign.» Yes, in Leningrad, he seemed to have quite a stroke of luck with street names. As for his luck with the enchanting Bertha – that remained an unanswered question…
Chapter 2: «I Came, I Saw, I Convinced!»
Oh, how sluggishly the days passed until the next leave! Mark, who had been diligently studying, now found himself frequently distracted, sometimes not even hearing the teacher. Thanks to Valeriy who occasionally nudged him in the side, the lovesick cadet was saved from complete bewilderment! Only the practical workshops at the airfield, where Maretsky could happily spend hours, went according to plan – his restless nature craved action and more action!
The image of the elusive Berta lingered in his mind. Mark was tormented by doubts, his mood mirroring the capricious Leningrad weather: from hope for reciprocity to the certainty that such a captivating girl must surely have a suitor.
«That mockingly condescending gaze…» he pondered, lying in his bunk after lights out. «But it's not disdainful… And there's a hint of fiery temperament; if she disapproved, she would have let us know we were unwelcome… But she didn't, did she?»
«She didn't, right, Valeriy?» Mark inquired.
«Oh, come on. When you arrive, your Aphrodite will be taken aback, and she'll thaw like the Snow Maiden.»
«Uh, no. She's not Aphrodite. She's Artemis!»
Valeriy, incidentally, informed him that the neighborhood where Berta lived was called PeskI (an ancient name) or Rozhdestvenskaya Sloboda, and all streets called Sovetskaya were once known as Rozhdestvenskaya Streets, as the Church of the Nativity of Jesus stood on the sixth of them.
«Though it seems to have been demolished recently as well.»
«Well, that's understandable; times have changed,» Mark thought about construction artels, perhaps out of old habit.
«Yes,» Valeriy agreed, «but the new names are still a mess.»
«And not all of them are named thoughtfully,» he added.
Two friends exchanged understanding glances, but Mark didn't feel particularly bothered by all these changes. The most crucial thing was that the street remained Third.
The morning of the eagerly awaited day dawned overcast, despite the fine weather the night before; clouds had gathered, hinting at impending rain. Yet in his dreams, he had pictured a romantic stroll…
Finally free, Cadet Maretsky arrived at House No. 26 dressed impeccably, carrying two enormous bouquets (thanks to his mother, he had grown accustomed to orderliness and neatness, but today his uniform looked especially dashing on him). With a grand gesture, he lightly kicked the entrance threshold as a token of gratitude, then stepped into the coolness of the building.
After calling the first apartment and obtaining the necessary information from a venerable old lady, Mark courteously bowed to the bewildered elderly lady, who had likely long grown unaccustomed to such gestures of attention.
A tantalizing aroma of homemade baked goods wafted from the cherished door on the third floor. Inhaling the sweet scent and pressing the doorbell, the cadet wistfully recalled his mother's pies (she was a master at baking), fidgeted on his feet, adjusted his bouquet, straightened his uniform… – but no one answered the door, despite the sounds emanating from the apartment. Trying again, Mark decided he would wait for victory, especially since the leave had just begun, the rain had yet to arrive, and there was no rush…
A wave of vanilla and cinnamon scent from behind the door, which was sharply opened, nearly knocked him off his feet. An older, yet still strikingly beautiful woman stood on the doorstep, donning a flour-stained apron with a kitchen towel draped over her shoulder.
«Full house, and no one to answer the door,» she exclaimed, not with anger, but with indignation, into the shadows of the corridor, and then looked at Mark in surprise. Unperturbed, he recognized her as his future mother-in-law, sharing the same stature and bushy eyebrows.
«Good afternoon. This is for you,» he offered with a courteous greeting, handing over the bouquet and delivering a slight, respectful bow.
«You must be mistaken, young man?» she responded with astonishment, yet still appreciating his politeness.
«I'm quite certain I'm not,» Mark smiled, openly inviting. «You're Berta's mother, aren't you?»
«Ah, of course,» the woman's eyes sparkled with a familiar slyness, as if to say, «Another contender, let's see…» – «Bertha, you have a visitor. A very gallant young man! Thank you. Please come in.»
The cramped hallway was illuminated as a gray-haired man emerged from a room with a little girl on his shoulders, both laughing. Vladimir followed them.
It was time to introduce himself.
«Mark Maretsky, a cadet of the military-technical school,» he stated with a sense of pride and confidence.
«It's Mark, Mommy! I told you! About the guys in Sestroretsk…» Vladimir chimed in…
«Oh, that's right! I'm Anna, the mother of this lively troublemaker,» she introduced herself.
«I'm Alexander Galper,» the man said, gently lowering the little girl to the floor. «Rose, go play,» he instructed, then warmly shook Mark's hand, displaying genuine interest in the guest with a good-natured smile, devoid of any ulterior motives.
To the left, at the back, beyond the hallway, a table came into view, and there was Berta in a white apron, much like her mother's, carefully arranging another batch of pies on a baking tray (her proud profile quite captivating). Vladimir was already pulling at Mark's sleeve, eager to show off his latest creation:
«I