The Mysterious Birthday Cake

Bush had just accepted the piece of cake from Deverel when Fletcher commented on the size. It was rather large, much larger than he would have wanted anyway. He had been too distracted by Deverel's foolishness to notice the size of the pieces he was slicing.

"Quite right, Mr. Fletcher. We should conserve the cake so that everyone might partake of it." He passed his slice back to Deverel. "Cut the pieces smaller, will you, Mr. Deverel? We want to have enough for everyone."

He took the note Fletcher handed him and read it over. "Hmm, 'AW'? I don't know anyone with those initials. At least no one that I can recall at the moment."

Deverel raised an eyebrow as he received the plate. He took the dirk and cut the slice in half horizontally, returning to Bush the bottom half without the chocolate frosting. For himself, he kept his large slice. He had already taken a bite out of it, after all. And anyone hereafter could cut their own.

"Maybe it's a lady," he suggested. "Annie, Arabella, Aimee, Adrienne."

"What's all this gatherin' for?" Johnson peered around appraisingly. "Sirs."

"Cake!" Deverel announced through a mouthful of it.

"Birthday cake," Fletcher said, showing his own piece to Johnson for inspection. "We don't know who it's from, but it's very tasty. There should be enough to everyone."

His eyes flickered to Mr. Bush for confirmation of this.

"It is tasty, isn't it, sir?"

"Cake." Johnson was, unusually, surprised. He gazed thoughtfully at the cake and wondered privately if it was for 'everyone' as in only for officers.

There were officers gathered around a table. One of them had a dagger or something in hand. And on that dagger or something were traces of something Mayden had seen before, always in officers' messes.

"There sweets in here?" He asked, inviting himself into the kitchen.

"Aye," Deverel mumbled, offering the dirk to the newcomer. "Have some."

Mayden lifted an eyebrow. "Sir?" What was he supposed to do with a dagger? Even a dagger that was well-smeared with a rich, dark something that looked delicious.

Deverel simply nodded and returned to his conversation with Lieutenant Bush.

There was a commotion in the other room. Sounds , talk and the word to which the rifleman found himself most alerted to. Cake this, cake that, cake. It was a cake. They talked about slices and cuts and of the size and of girls, but for the most part they mentioned that delicious mound of sweet taste. Cake!

He inched closer to the door then peered in. So many officers in one place made him want to turn. Then he spotted a drummer boy and a rifleman of the 95th, and slowly took a step in. Oh but it looked mouth watering! He chewed on his lip. He almost wanted to ask if he could clean the plate, once the cake was eaten. Then he could get a few little bits in him!

Seeing as Mayden was hesitating Fletcher cut him a slice and handed it to him. It was his dirk after all that was getting covered in a mess of sticky chocolate icing.

"It's for everyone, not just officers," he said, raising his voice a little to be heard above Deverel's voice. He knew that most of the sailors and rank and file could not read, but even when spoken they must understand the meaning of the non-specific "Help yourselves." They were not onboard ship or in camp after all.

"Sir." Pye approached Fletcher after those magical words had been spoken. "May I... may I .." He stammered looking at the dirk and then at the cake.

He'd easily cut a slice himself but only if given the tools to do it with. He didn't want to burden the young officer - no way he'd have the nerve for that - but he didn't know what the protocol for this was either! He made a note on what size the other slice was too. If this boy had cut the slice of such size for another rifleman, he could, if given a chance, do himself too.

Fletcher looked up, another rifleman having appeared near him. He had not met the fellow before, but it seemed as if food brought everyone out of the woodwork. He smiled.

"Of course." He cut the man a slice and handed it to him. "I'm sorry it's so small," he said, apologetically. "But we have to make sure there's enough to go around, d'ye see?"

He liked cutting the cake and handing it out. It made him feel useful, and important for once, even though it was a relatively unimportant duty.

Pye blinked at Fletcher. Small? It was big in his eyes. It was a beautiful large portion even if to anybody else it might've seemed small. "Sir, it's.. it's great sir, thank you." He said and looked as grateful as if Fletcher had given him the whole cake to eat, although if he had, probably Fletcher may well have become a deity.

"Thank you." He said again, his smile bright and radiant, while his hands held onto the plate, careful not to have the cake piece dropped and slightly worried that the boy would change his mind and snatch it back. It would be a cruel joke, if it happened.

"s' a very fine piece, real kind of you!" He added, as if thinking he had to show the boy that he ought not to be sorry for the cut , for it was more than adequate. More than he expected even.

Fletcher blinked. To him it seemed extraordinary that a small piece of cake could make anyone so enthusiastically happy, but then he supposed riflemen didn't get much cake. He nodded.

"Very well, then, I hope you do enjoy it."

"Thank you sir." The lad nodded and carried his cake to a corner which he found would be in nobody's way but leaving him enough of space to comfortably sit and eat. Folding his legs and leaning against the wall, he tore a small bit from the cake with his hand and placed it into his mouth. So good. It was enough to envy the officers for it. He savoured every moment. Usually he might've eaten fast, but now he just wanted it to last longer. So good!

But, beware a man who wasn't an officer and wanted to take the cake from him. It wouldn't bode well for them.

Cake... Mayden blinked in surprise, but didn't protest. He knew better than to object to such a treat. "Thank'ee, sir," he said, cradling the slice in his cupped hands. It looked positively marvellous. A sample taste revealed that it was positively marvellous. Mayden grinned and helped himself to the rest of the piece he'd been given.

"Not so fast," Oxley said. "Might's well, um, y'know, taste it. I mean, once it's gone, it's gone." It was very nice though, and he was more than a little tempted to bolt his own piece down.

Mayden offered a quick grin as he licked smears of chocolate off his fingers. "I tasted it fine," he said cheerfully.

"Ah, but once it's all gone, there ain't no more," Oxley pointed out, taking a bite out of his own slice, scattering crumbs all over the floor.

"True," Mayden allowed. "But that makes it worth boltin', don't it?"

"But if you don't eat it so fast, it'll last longer afore it's all gone," Oxley replied, though he couldn't help but want to eat it all at once.

Has only finished half of the cake by then, and glanced up at Oxley and Mayden grinning. "It's only worth eating it real fast.. "He suggested, loudly enough. ".. if you know you'll get more after this one. Then it best disappear in a snap. " He nodded quickly and grinned.

He scooted closer and glanced at Oxley, wondering about his uniform. "Wot' regiment are you from?"

Oxley took another bite, and nearly mumbled around it, but swallowed before speaking. "'M in the Roy'l M'rines, mate, at sea. What're you - ain't never seen green afore. Looks real strange, that does."