model was enough for him to realise it was a clipper: the ship had a low
bowsprit over its sharp stem, three tall masts with straight sails and a
narrow, streamline body. Its sides were covered with shiny nut-brown
lacquer and its bottom with thin copper plating.
Taut rope ladders (Alex knew they were called "shrouds") ran from the
sides to projections on the masts. Tiny anchors hung from beams as thick
as matchsticks. A finely-moulded wheel the size of a small coin was
fastened to the steering column in front of the chart house.
"What a beauty," whispered Masha hotly against Alex's cheek.
"It's a clipper," Alex whispered back, pleased that Masha liked the
little ship.
Leaning so close to him that her hair tickled his ear, Masha said
quietly: "When I was little, I wanted to be a sailor."
"Don't you now?"
"Well, now I realise they don't take girls."
"They do sometimes. I saw a film about it once... And I read about a
woman captain in a magazine."
"I know..." Masha sighed. "But it's hard. I may have a go, though...
But, you see, when I was little I didn't know it was hard."
Alex smiled.
"And now?"
"What about now" asked Masha in surprise.
"You're not fully grown yet, are you?
"No, but all the same... I'm not a little girl any more. I didn't
know anything then. I used to think that the most important thing for a
sailor was to have a sailor's collar. I used to cry my eyes out every
day and beg Mummy to make me a dress with a collar like it. And I got my
own way in the end.
"I've still got a sailor suit," said Alex rather dreamily. "Mum
bought it when were going down south. Its collar's really huge, like a
blue flag. When it flaps in the wind, you feel you've got wings and even
fancy you could fly... The suit's lovely and light and white like a
sail."
They stood for a moment in silence, gazing at the clipper's delicate
lawn sails which were flat and still.
"They need wind," said Alex.
"Of course," agreed Masha in a whisper. "But, you know, I really
don't understand. After all, it's a ship and not a hat. What's it doing
here?"
Sofia Alexandrovna and Olympiada Victorovna were chatting away,
eagerly interrupting one another:
"Oh, Sofia, you must wealise that you weally need a new flat..."
"No, no, Lympie, I don't. I'm too set in my ways"
Trying to be as polite as possible, Alex waited for a pause in the
conversation and then said loudly, "I'm sorry, but would you mind telling
us where you got this model?"
Sofia Alexandrovna flew up her hands ("My, what a delightful boy!")
and began saying hurriedly, "Yes, it is an interesting little thing.
True, I came by it quite by chance. An old lodger who lived here many
years ago made it. And then he died and the ship was left here with me.
It's a very sweet little thing although I'm, of course, not an expert on
things of this sort. The TV studios wanted to buy it for some film or
other but what do I need money for? I offered to exchange it for two
Napoleonic hussar' shakos. They agreed but the shakos turned out to be
complete fakes..."
Shortly afterwards the guests said good-bye to the old lady and Alex
was given a high stack of hats which had been worn rusty brown by time
and reeked so strongly of mothballs that he kept wanting to sneeze.
"Well, darling, we weally must be off. Now be a dear and don't get
upset about Kuzya..."
"Oh, Lympie..."
Alex went out last.
"Alex," Sofia Alexandrovna called quietly to him.
Alex turned round slowly and peered at her through the hats.
"Alex... You seem to me to be a splendid and kind boy. I want to ask
you a favour. If you happen to see a grey cat with a white neck and a
pink scratch on one ear, please try and catch him and bring him back
here... Of course, this may sound ridiculous but I've grown so attached
to him."
Alex did not consider himself splendid or kind. He even blushed to
the roots of his hair from embarrassment and shame whenever such things
were said about him. However, he began to feel sorry for the old lady.
It was just too bad that silly cat Kuzya was the dearest thing she had in
the world. And so he said, "Why no, it's not in the least bit ridiculous.
Last year my puppy Julbars got lost and I cried all day long. I'll do my
best. If I catch sight of your Kuzya, I'll definitely get him back to
you."
He had invented the story about the puppy. Besides, it would have
been silly to actually compare a puppy with a silly mewing cat but Alex
wanted to comfort her somehow.
At the rehearsal later that day each of the guards and courtiers was
given a hat and Alex got a large one like a musketeer's with a wide brim
and fluffy plume.
When Olympiada Victorovna decided to rehearse the final scene, Alex
began feeling thoroughly miserable because, you see, it was then that the
prince finally found Cinderella, and of course, declared his love for her
and almost went as far as kissing her.
When starting the scene, Olympiada Victorovna suggested the prince
took off his beret and donned a hat with feathers.
"I think this black suit and silvewy gwey, soft felt hat will look
weally gwand."
"What did she say the hat's made of?" Alex asked Masha in a whisper.
"Felt. That's what almost all hats are made of."
"I see..."
The rehearsal began. The prince dropped onto his knees in front of
Masha, put the slipper on her foot and declared his love for her.
Olympiada Victorovna was dissatisfied.
"No, no! This won't do at all. Too little feeling. You must sound
touching, weally touching but somehow you sound wather fwivolous. You
make it look as if the pwince is feather-bwained."
And thereupon Alex said in a rather loud voice:
When you wear a hat made of felt
Before you know it, your brains start to melt
And soon you find they're all feathers and down,
And not a single bit of brain's to be found.
There was a chilly silence. Olympiada Victorovna turned round slowly
and glared fiercely at the villain who had dared to interrupt the
proceedings.
"You've a very spiteful tongue, you know. You're intewupting our
work. Please leave. You're not in this scene."
Alex went back-stage, sat on the plywood royal throne, picked up a
sword someone had left behind and began drawing the word "Masha" on the
dusty floor.
After the rehearsal the prince and Cinderella both came back-stage in
an angry mood.
"We're not getting anywhere!" said Masha.
"What do you expect with such 'poets' around," snapped the prince and
shook his white feathers towards Alex. "Making up silly little rhymes and
getting in the way."
"Watch it," said Alex.
"Don't you boss me about," the prince retorted haughtily. "There was
once a time when people got nailed to a wall like butterflies in a
collection for making up stuff like that."
"Do you want to challenge me to a duel, then?" asked Alex hopefully.
"If you weren't a coward, I would."
"Me? A coward?!" Alex jumped up.
"You've both gone mad," said Masha as was to be expected in such an
event.
The prince unfastened his cloak, dashingly swept it onto the floor
and drew his sword.
Alex stuck his sword into the floor and slightly bent its blade. The
prince rushed into the attack. Alex parried his blow and with his next
thrust knocked a feather out of the prince's hat. Masha gasped just in
case. The prince leapt back two paces and then gracefully prepared for
the attack and dashed forwards again. Alex stepped to the left, letting
the prince dive under his blade, and then turned and whacked his opponent
across his bony velvet backside. The prince let out a howl, cast his
sword aside and rushed at Alex with raised fists.
But then in walked Olympiada Victorovna.
"What's going on in here?" she asked furiously.
"He started it!" whined the sneaky prince. "Waving his sword about."
Olympiada Victorovna hissed as she inhaled air and then rasped: "Get
out!" and pointed a bony finger at the door.
"Why, certainly," said Alex.
Masha caught Alex up in the yard and they quietly walked along
side-by-side.
"I'm sorry," said Masha. "I didn't even manage to explain to her
that you didn't start it."
"What ever next! What's the point explaining!" replied Alex
cheerfully.
He was pleased Masha was walking along beside him and feeling sorry
for him but did not want her to feel too sorry.
"Do you think I won't get by without this drama group?"
"I don't like it either," said Masha. "And I haven't time to spare.
You know, I've also got music, gymnastics and English language classes.
But what can I do? If I leave, the premiere will have to be cancelled.
I mustn't stop the show."
"No, of course you mustn't!"
Masha fell silent, sighed and then asked quietly, "So you're not at
all sorry you've left the group?"
Alex blushed and astounded by his own daring, suddenly blurted out,
"Yes, I am a bit... Because from now on I 'm not going to see you
much..."
He could not bring himself to look at Masha and began examining his
sandals instead. And so he could not tell whether Masha was smiling or
frowning. She was probably smiling for she said, "My birthday's in three
day's time. Will you come? At three."
"Of course, I will!" Alex exclaimed, overjoyed, and at once took
fright and asked, "Only... who else will be coming?"
"Oh, hardly anybody! Two girls from our form, my first-former cousin
and Andrei Lapnikov. You don't know him. We go to the same music school.
He's ever so funny and a bit fat but he plays the violin ever so well.
You see, our tape-recorder's broken and he'll play for us instead so that
we can dance."
"I'm no good at dancing."
"Who is? Everybody will just do his own thing."
"But what about the prince? Will he be coming, too, then?" Alex asked
gruffly and hesitantly.
"Of course not," replied Masha.
Chapter Three
For over a month Alex's father who was an archaeologist had been
excavating an ancient town in the desert. He sometimes wrote letters in
which he described their wonderful finds and Alex and his mother really
enjoyed reading them.
When Alex came home and saw his mother looking happy, he at once
asked, "Heard from Daddy?"
But she replied, "No, I've got some other news. The factory's
sending me on business to Leningrad for ten days. I've decided to take
you with me!.."
She was amazed that Alex did not start jumping up and down and
whooping with joy.
"Aren't you thrilled?"
No two boys alike. Some in Alex's shoes would have begun dodging the
issue and making up excuses. Others would have decided that no girl was
worth turning down a trip to Leningrad. But Alex said, "You see, Mummy, a
girl I know has her birthday in three days' time. She's invited me to her
party."
No two mothers are alike either. Alex's did not get upset or angry.
"Well, in that case... I'll have to ask Auntie Dasha to look after
you again."
Auntie Dasha was a pensioner, who lived in the flat next-door.
Whenever Alex had to be left at home for a few days, his parents asked
Auntie Dasha to help and she was always only too pleased to oblige. Alex
did not mind either although he considered he was quite old enough to
look after himself.
In the late afternoon his mother set off for the station after, of
course, giving him a lots of advice and instructions on how to cope on
his own. And as she was leaving, she said, "Now, when you go to the
birthday party, do try and look really smart."
"How do you mean?"
"Go to the barber's and get your hair cut. Give your neck a good
scrub and do dress properly."
"What do you mean by that?" asked Alex anxiously. He had never given
this a thought before. His school uniform was too drab for a party and,
anyway, over the past year he had managed to wear it out at the knees and
tear a hole in the elbow of his jacket. And he could not very well go in
his favourite scruffy jeans and sweat-shirt as it was not the same as
chasing a football in the yard.
"Wear your sailor suit."
"I... I..." said Alex hesitantly.
"What's wrong?"
"Well... I look too young in it."
His mother burst out laughing, kissed Alex and left.
But Alex fell to thinking.
Life became hard when you were invited to a birthday party. You had
to think about dressing up smartly. You had to (it suddenly dawned on
Alex!) look for a present. Well, that wasn't so hard. He could give her,
say, a pen with four different-coloured inks. Or, if the worst came to
the worst, his home-made pistol with a rubber band which fired wire
bullets and which looked almost as good as a Mauser. But what should he
wear?
When you're invited home for the first time by a girl whom you, well,
whom you like, you want to look your best. But a sailor suit is perhaps
too childish... On the other hand, it was the best thing Alex had. So he
just had to make up his mind.
Alex hunted in his wardrobe for the hanger on which his sailor's
jacket and shorts with a narrow blue belt had been hanging since last
year, put them on and stood in front of the mirror...
It is on little details of this kind that our tale depends. If
Alex's mother had not made the very casual remark about him looking his
best, he would not have been so anxious that evening, and, like all other
boys of his age, would have been playing football in the yard instead
of hovering in front of the mirror and carefully examining his sailor's
jacket. And he would not have noticed that the little golden anchor on
his sleeve had worked loose or begun looking at it attentively. Neither
would he have suddenly remembered that the anchors on the clipper model
were almost the same. No, he would certainly not have recalled the little
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