Winfred

50

Official Report

British Intelligence

Code: 3986

Kathleen Winfred

A Birthday

I woke up on my birthday with a head cold. I lay there, looking up at the ceiling, for a few moments.

My twenty-fourth birthday was here, and no one would care. No one would know. Von Steubon had probably forgotten now that I had erased the circle around the sixth.

Another year older, and who cared?

I dressed in my uniform after taking my allotted shower and brushing my teeth.

Pirot had, for once, awakened earlier than I had, and was nowhere to be seen.

I ate my breakfast, the same eggs and hash browns as I had every day. I chided myself, reminding myself to remain grateful that that was my breakfast, rather than the sparse meals of a prisoner as I had been only recently.

I then made my way to my office.

Ordinarily, Von Steubon arrived much earlier than I did and the door was already unlocked and propped open.

However, the morning of my birthday, it was locked and shut, giving me an excuse to use the key to the outer office that I had been given.

I opened the door and fumbled for a moment before I found the light switch and turned it on.

“Happy Birthday!”

I remained in the doorway, blinking my eyes in the sudden light, somewhat confused. Pirot was coming towards me, grinning from ear to ear. Behind her, Von Steubon stood stiffly, his arms crossed and a rather bored expression on his face. Behind him, was Albert!

The soldier came forward, smiling, and clapped me on the back.

“Happy birthday, Ilsa!” he said, laughing. “Pirot let me know that your birthday was today, and I had to come back and celebrate!”

From then on, any of the melancholy I had felt at the beginning of the day fell away as I found myself surrounded by the people who were the closest things I had to friends here at the prison. I wished, for a moment, that Virginia and Jessica were here was well, but I knew that that could not be.

Pirot brought out a bottle of wine and a chocolate cake and Albert poured the wine into four glasses while Von Steubon cut the cake. We shut the door to the office, letting ourselves have a few hours of privacy to celebrate. Pirot chattered happily with me, while Albert sat next to her, his arm around her shoulders as he drank his wine, smiling at her now and again. Von Steubon sat off to the side, slowly sipping his wine and taking no part in the conversation.

Pirot eventually stood and clapped her hands, letting us know that it was time for me to open gifts. She handed me a small package, which I opened to find a pair of earrings. She said that she hoped I didn’t mind that they had been hers before she gave them to me. I knew that Pirot did not have much money, since she sent it home to her family, so the gift meant that much more. I thanked her.

Albert, next, handed me a package, saying that he had passed through a French town on his way to the front and had gotten me the gift when he had seen it in the window of a small shop. It was a watch, simple and practical, but pretty. I was very grateful.

Von Steubon remained off to the side, present at the celebration but, for the most part, not participating.

Eventually, everyone had to go about their duties. Albert would make rounds with Pirot, before heading back into town and leaving with his division of troops. Von Steubon went back to his office. I went back to my desk, to catch up with the filing that I had to do, not having done it this morning as usual.

I was in the middle of my work when Von Steubon exited his office, looking rather in a hurry, pulling his uniform jacket and cap on as he went.

He said nothing to me, simply nodding in my direction as he left, closing the door.

It took me longer than usual, as the pile was bigger than most days, to sort the papers, but I eventually finished, an hour later.

I stood up, taking my jacket off the hook by the desk and putting it on, buttoning the buttons one by one.

I was just picking up the plate with the last slice of chocolate cake, as well as the earrings from Pirot and the watch from Albert, when the door reopened and Von Steubon entered, his face somewhat flushed and his cap askew, as if he had been in a hurry to get back to the office.

Upon seeing me there, he straightened, fixing his cap and clearing his throat.

“I thought you would have already left,” he said, after a moment’s hesitation.

I shook my head. “I’m a little late leaving today,” I said, quietly, thinking that he was displeased with my lateness.

We were silent for a few more minutes, him standing awkwardly in the doorway, his hands clasped behind his back, and me behind my desk, hands resting on the surface.

Suddenly, he started, and stepped forward, reaching, at the same time, into his pocket and retrieving an envelope. He hesitated, before stepping forward a bit more and handing it across the desk to me.

I glanced at it. Ilsa Schulz, the front said, in an unfamiliar handwriting.

He stepped back immediately, clearing his throat again. “Your…gift.”

I looked at him in question, but his face was, once again, impassive.

“Thank you,” I said, looking at him curiously.

A small smile seemed to form on his lips, but vanished so quickly that I believed that I had imagined it. He nodded. “You’re welcome,” he said.

He turned to reentered his office, closing the door behind him.

I looked at the envelope once more. It was wrinkled, and somewhat wet (not surprising, as I knew it had been raining outside).

It was completely unassuming.

I gathered up the rest of my things and made my way to my room.