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foundtherightwords · 1 year ago

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All Our Yesterdays - Chapter 9

Pairing: Ralph (Timewasters) x OFC

Summary: Thu, a museum archivist, only wants to escape her dull life in 21st-century Hanoi. The last thing she expects is to end up in 1929 Indochina via a time-traveling elevator and cross paths with Ralph, an Englishman on the run from the French Foreign Legion. Romance blossoms between them, but in a colonized country, unrest is always looming on the horizon, and Thu must decide if she wants to stay with Ralph in the past or return to the safety of the future.

Warnings: outdated/period-typical attitudes about women, mentions of war, mentions of pregnancy and abortion (involving a supporting character), some angst, some smut (non-explicit)

Chapter word count: 3.7k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7 - Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Winter had finally arrived in Hanoi. For a few short, glorious weeks in November, the sky was a blue dome, the sun was a gentle glaze over the landscape, and everything was crisp and crystal clear. Then December came, and the Northeastern monsoon swept through Tonkin, changing the entire city in a single night. A merciless wind stripped the trees bare, leaving them to raise their skeletal frames toward a sky the color of tarnished silver. The traditional houses, not built for retaining heat, seemed to huddle closer together for warmth, as did the people on the streets. Vendors selling grilled corn on the cob and roasted sweet potatoes popped up on every street corner, and crowds flocked to them, for the fire from their stoves as much as the snacks. In the Western area of town, around Rue Paul Bert, Christmas decorations started appearing in shop windows and around doorways. For the locals, however, the real celebration—the Lunar New Year—was still about two months away.

The weather wasn't the only thing that changed. Thu sensed that something had changed between her and Ralph as well, in the days following his birthday and their outing at the dance hall.

On the outside, everything was the same. They still hung out (Thu tried not to think of their outings as dates)—eating at this or that vendor that they hadn't tried, going to the theater or the movies, even venturing to the Botanic Garden, though Thu was always careful to keep them away from the area around Robin Park. However, the easy friendliness between them was gone, replaced by a sense of tension, not just mental but physical as well, as both seemed to hold their bodies alert like a string, taut with wanting, waiting for the other to say something, do something, to break this terrible suspense, but neither dared to make the first move. It wasn't entirely unpleasant—it was like having a low dose of adrenaline constantly pumping through her veins—but it left her frustrated at the end of the day, when he walked her home, mumbled "Good night" and stalked off down the street, without even looking at her, without even shaking her hand, as if one touch would make them both spontaneously combust.

OK, so she liked him. She could admit that, at least to herself. He was cute and sweet and fun and she liked hanging out with him and taking care of him, and she even liked letting him take care of her once in a while. But it was no use entertaining the idea. This wasn't like meeting someone on vacation, because then at least there was always a chance they could see each other again. No, this was simply impossible.

It would be so much better if she could just sit him down and rip the Band-Aid off. "Listen, Ralph, I think you're great and all (what's that goofy 1920s slang word he uses? "Wizard"?), but I can't stay here forever, so how about we just kiss and get it out of our system and then go back to being friends?" But it was never that simple, was it? It wouldn't stop at just a kiss, would it? And there was always a chance that she had completely misread his signals, that he wasn't interested and was just being nice, and how humiliating would that be? And so she said nothing, and he said nothing, and they kept circling around each other in that limbo, taking both comfort and dissatisfaction from each other's company.

Christmas came without much fanfare. None of the staff at the newspaper was Christian, and Thu didn't celebrate it either—though it had become an unofficial secular holiday in modern-day Vietnam, she didn't see any point in celebrating as a non-Christian. Ralph did though, so she made an effort to give him a nice time, knowing it would be the one day when he felt the most homesick. They didn't go to church—it was far too crowded and the risk of Ralph getting recognized would be greater. Instead, they stayed home for a Christmas dinner, French-Indochinese style. Ralph bought a bottle of champagne, a cake, and some sweets from Godard's, and she bought a Peking duck and side dishes from a Chinese restaurant.

"This is so good! Beats a roast goose any day," Ralph said, stuffing himself with the duck and pickles wrapped in crispy pancakes, while Thu watched him, smiling indulgently.

For presents, she gave him a dozen cotton handkerchiefs embroidered with his monogrammed initials, R.P. It was the most practical and least romantic present she could think of—she kept forgetting to buy some for herself, and Ralph was always having to give her one of his.

"I have something for you too," Ralph said, blushing a little, and handed her a long, rectangular package.

It was a photo album. "To Autumn, from Ralph" was written on the front page. The photos were all of her, carefully captioned in Ralph's own handwriting. Here she was, standing with the kids in front of the toy shop at the Mid-Autumn Festival. Here she was, leaning over a basket of flowers and smiling up at the camera. Here she was, standing at the balcony and looking over the street, deep in thought. There was even one of them together, reflected in a shop window like two ghosts floating over the busy pavement.

Thu looked from the album to Ralph, lost for words.

"A little memento for when you go home," he said. "I know you have all those pictures on your clever telephone already, but—"

"I love it," she interrupted, reaching across the table to squeeze his hand. "Thank you."

He beamed at her.

Later that night, back in her own room, as she looked over the photos again, tracing the captions with her fingers, Thu thought to herself, After the Lunar New Year. She would stay for the Lunar New Year. And after that, maybe she'd find the strength to say goodbye.

***

As the New Year—the "Western" New Year, as it was still called in modern day, as opposed to the Lunar New Year—approached, the office of Women's Weekly was abuzz with excitement. To thank the staff and to celebrate the paper's three-month anniversary, Madame Phuong was going to throw a party at her house on New Year's Eve. Thu realized that then, as it is in modern times, the Lunar New Year is for families, while the Western New Year is reserved for social gatherings.

It was Lien who came up with the idea of putting on a pantomime play, both to entertain themselves and the guests at the party, and to help the staff bond. Madame Phuong gave her approval, and the women had been rehearsing all through Christmas. Thu was glad to see that it didn't seem much different from the amateur shows she and her co-workers often performed at the museum on special occasions, except they were all going to be cross-dressing for maximum hilarity.

They decided to perform Thach Sanh, or the story of the woodcutter who braved monsters and won the hand of a princess, since it had more male characters than other fairy tales, thus more cross-dressing roles for the all-female staff. Lien even roped her henpecked husband into playing the evil adoptive mother, which left the role of the Princess. The other staff members were asked if they had husbands or brothers or male friends that could step in, but the women all laughed behind their hands and said, "Playing a princess? They'd rather die!" It was then that Lien suggested that Thu asked her "photographer friend".

"I'll ask him, but I can't promise anything," Thu said. She turned to Mai and lowered her voice. "Maybe you can ask Louis too?" she asked with a teasing grin. Louis with his mustache playing a princess, now that would be a laugh.

"I—I don't know if he can," Mai mumbled, looking uncomfortable, and Thu's grin immediately disappeared. The girl had been rather subdued and distracted lately. Perhaps her relationship with the dashing Louis wasn't going well. Thu felt sorry for her, and again wondered if she'd done the right thing, keeping quiet about Louis's lechery.

To her pleasant surprise, Ralph agreed to help right away.

"We used to put on a panto for Christmas all the time at home," he said enthusiastically. "It'll be a laugh!"

And so on New Year's Eve, laden with costumes and props and musical instruments, they all made their way to Madame Phuong's villa on the quiet lane of Chân Cầm Street. Thu was astonished to recognize the place—in her time, it was converted into a couple of boutiques on the first floor and a coffee shop on the second floor, but the interior was more or less the same, down to the floor tiles, the tall French windows that opened onto the balcony, the carved columns on either side of the door, and the painted moldings on the ceiling. So many times she and her friends had been there drinking egg coffee, wondering who the previous owner was. Never had she dreamed that one day she would be there when it was all fresh and new... The feeling of derealization, which she hadn't felt in months, was back, and it was only when Ralph touched her shoulder that Thu realized she was gaping at the house like an idiot.

"Everything all right?" Ralph asked.

"Yeah, yeah, just—you know. I know this place." She shook her head. "Sometimes this whole thing feels like the longest bout of déjà-vu ever."

"Come on, we have to get into costumes." He pulled her toward the back of the house. The "actors" had congregated in a guest room, which had been set up as the changing room, and were putting on their costumes with much laughter and teasing. The play was to be very informal. It would be easy to hire a theater troupe, but Lien insisted on impressing Madame Phuong with their enthusiasm and homemade skills, hence the amateurish preparations.

Soon, Thu found herself clad in a men's robe of navy brocade, borrowed from Lien's husband, with a crown constructed out of paper and gold foil. She was playing the king, but as Vietnam still had an Emperor then and the royal color of yellow was forbidden for the common folk, they had to settle for blue instead. Mai, who was in charge of make-up, whipped out a cooking pot, its bottom blackened with soot.

"What the hell is that?" Thu asked.

"It's for your beard and eyebrows," Mai said, dragging a finger through the soot and smearing it on Thu's face.

Ralph took one look at her and bust out laughing.

"I don't see what you're laughing at," Thu scoffed. "Look at yourself!"

Lien had lent him her wedding robe of red brocade, and a crown, similar to Thu's, was on his head. Even though the robe was loose-fitting, Ralph was still too tall and broad-shouldered for it, so he had to wear it open like a smoking jacket, and his wrists poking out from the sleeves struck Thu as adorably awkward. At least he was allowed to wear his own trousers underneath.

Mai was smiling along with them, but then she suddenly went pale, winced, and clamped a hand on her stomach, dropping the pot of rouge she was going to use on Ralph.

"You OK?" Thu asked, looking at the girl with concern.

"Um, yeah, just cramps."

"Why don't you get some air?" Thu said, picking up the rouge. "I'll take care of this. The King and the Princess aren't on until the third scene anyway."

Mai gave her a grateful look and slipped out the door. Thu sat Ralph down in front of her, dipped her finger into the rouge, and rubbed a circle on each of his cheeks.

"You're worried about her," he said.

"She hasn't been herself. No doubt that dick Louis has something to do with it."

"Maybe they've broken up."

"That would be for the best, honestly."

Then she glanced at his face and tried to suppress a giggle.

He narrowed his eyes at her. "What?"

"Nothing. You look like one of those Russian nesting dolls. "

"And you look like a chimney sweep," he said, grinning at her.

"Don't talk, or I'll get lipstick on your teeth."

As she touched his lips, however, all thoughts of Mai went out of Thu's head. She was all too aware that they were alone in the room, and she was tracing his lips with her finger, how full and soft and warm they were, and he was looking at her almost expectantly, and if she just leaned down, she could kiss him—

"Ready?" Lien bustled in. She wasn't going on stage, preferring to be the director instead.

Thu looked up, hoping the soot was enough to cover her blush. "Um, yeah," she said.

"Good. You're up next!"

***

Peeking through a gap in the door, Thu saw that the drawing room was full of people, both French and Vietnamese. They were a rather Bohemian-looking lot, some dressed up, others looking like they just came off of their easels or writing desks. Madame Phuong's own children wove in and out amongst the guests. The atmosphere was casual and relaxed, and Thu's nervousness about her performance dissipated a great deal.

It helped her, also, to see that Ralph seemed to be enjoying himself. Her own role consisted of nothing else but sitting on a wingback chair, lifting her hand, and pointing a couple of times, so she spent most of her time on stage watching Ralph. He took to the stage like a duck to water. It being a pantomime, there was no line, but his gestures and looks earned a great deal of laughter and cheers from the audience. The princess's heartbreaking sighs at being separated from her brave woodcutter were especially convincing, even if she tended to look over at her father the king quite often during that scene. Thu was only glad that she was not a good enough actor to play the lead role, or else she would've melted into a puddle when the princess was finally reunited with the woodcutter.

Afterward, the actors took to the stage amidst enthusiastic applause, bowed, and rushed back into the changing room, laughing and congratulating each other. The women crowded around Lien's husband and Ralph, heaping them with praises, and telling Lien and Thu how lucky they were that their men were so supportive. It hit Thu then, that not only the staff took it for granted that Ralph was her partner, but they were also jealous of her. Her heart swelled with something akin to proprietorial pride, as she watched Ralph taking in the compliments, looking a bit overwhelmed but pleased.

They got out of their costumes, wiped their faces clean of make-up, and joined the other guests for hors d'oeuvres and champagne. The children had been sent to bed, and the party became more boisterous. At one point, Thu overheard Madame Phuong and a few other people getting into quite a heated discussion in French, of which she only caught a few familiar words like parti and révolutionnaire. Then they noticed her looking in their direction and quickly changed the subject.

Thu knew the August Revolution, which led to Vietnam gaining independence from France, was still fifteen years away, but the nationalist movements that gave birth to it must have started around this time. She looked at the happy, amicable faces around her, wondering if any of them would be involved in the war to come. Her stomach twinged with the slight embarrassment of being too wrapped up in her own personal affair, while there were much bigger things going on around her.

Then she caught Ralph's eyes across the room, and that embarrassment vanished. She realized she hadn't talked to him since the play was over, and suddenly she missed him. It was ridiculous to miss someone who was literally five meters away, but she did. As she made her way to him, one of Madame Phuong's friends started asking her about her hair, where she'd had it cut. By the time Thu got rid of her and turned back, Ralph himself was locked in conversation with a French gentleman. Before she could try to reach Ralph again, there was a tinkling of glass, and conversations paused as people turned to Madame Phuong. "It's almost midnight!" she announced, first in Vietnamese, then in French, pointing to the big grandfather clock behind her. "Let's ring in the New Year!"

A countdown began, in both Vietnamese and French. The clock struck twelve, a loud cheer of "Bonne année!" went up, and then, to Thu's great surprise, the guests started giving each other hearty kisses on the cheeks. She had heard of the tradition of kissing at midnight on New Year's Eve, of course, but it was a purely Western custom, never practiced in Vietnam, and certainly not in 1930, when the country was only on the brink of modernization. This must be a very liberal, very Westernized crowd if they took to it so naturally.

She saw Ralph making his way toward her and panicked. True, she had fantasized about kissing him just a few hours ago, but ever since their accidental kiss on his birthday, she had gone back and forth between yearning for his lips and dreading them. What if he was to kiss her now and she didn't know how to behave? What if it was just a friendly peck on the cheek and she didn't know how to deal with the crushing disappointment? No, better not risk it. She spun around and dashed through the other guests, escaping to the back of the house.

Walking down the dimly lit corridor, Thu found her way to the toilet, intending to take refuge in it until the moment for midnight kisses had passed. But as she reached the door, she heard a sound coming from within—quiet, whimpering sobs, like those of a child trying to hide her crying. She paused, not knowing if she should knock or retreat in discretion. Before she could decide, the door opened and Mai emerged, her eyes red and puffy. Thu realized she hadn't seen the girl since the play began.

"What's the matter?" she asked, but Mai only sniffed, shook her head, and disappeared down the hallway.

***

Her mind was still on Mai when she said her goodbye to Madame Phuong and met Ralph at the front door. Belatedly, Thu realized that he was waiting to walk her home. Ah well. He had done so over the past two months and nothing had happened; there was no need to make things more awkward now.

If Ralph had noticed her running away from him at midnight and was hurt or offended, he made no mention of it. He only saw her shiver in her quilted jacket, so he took off his coat and draped it over her shoulders. She tried to protest, but he shrugged. "It's only a short walk, I won't freeze."

"Thank you." She clutched the coat closer around her, breathing in his warmth and the familiar soapy scent, while Ralph walked in long, leisurely strides next to her, his hands stuffed in his pockets. Some of their easy silence had returned, and Thu felt herself relaxing slightly. Perhaps they could go back to being friends after all.

"What are you thinking about?" he asked.

She sighed and told him about catching Mai crying in the bathroom. "I really should've warned her about Louis."

"What happened to not getting involved?"

She gave him a sharp glance. "It's a bit late for that, isn't it? I've been involved in all sorts of things now."

"So if you return to your time and the robots have taken over, you're not going to blame me?" he said, grinning.

She couldn't help grinning back. "No, you're off the hook. Great party tonight, wasn't it?" she said, changing the subject. She didn't like talking about going back to her time.

"It was. You did a great job with the play."

"Me?" She waved her hand dismissively. "Pfft. Trying to look kingly isn't that hard. You, though. If this photography thing doesn't work out, you should think about going on stage."

"I wasn't acting," Ralph said quietly.

"But when the princess was leaning against the window frame? All that sad longing? That was so convincing!"

"Like I said, I wasn't acting."

He had slowed his steps and was looking at her rather wistfully, but Thu strode on, pretending not to see, pretending not to notice the throbbing of her heart. He was probably just thinking of Lauren during that scene. Yes, definitely...

She walked so fast that Ralph had to scramble to catch up with her, but they had arrived at her boarding house. She turned to him. "Well, good night."

Ralph looked down, deflated. "Happy New Year," he mumbled.

"In Vietnam, we say 'Chúc mừng năm mới.'"

"Chuc mung nam moi?" he repeated, trying to form his mouth around the unfamiliar words.

"Close enough." Thu smiled. "See you then."

He gave her a brief nod, turned to leave, then seemed to have come to a decision and turned back, stepping closer to her, crossing the gap between them with just one stride. "Do you know that if you don't get a kiss on New Year's Eve, you'll be doomed to a year of loneliness?" he whispered.

The string inside her snapped. Why did he say that? Why did he keep saying and doing these things that made it so hard to resist him? Didn't he know how painful it was for her?

"Damn it, Ralph." She grabbed him by his shirt, pulled him to her, and clasped her mouth to his.

Chapter 10

A/N: Finally, things are happening! Smut is coming next chapter! Although slow burn is my jam, this is the slowest burn I've written so far, and even I was getting a little antsy with these two, so thank you for your patience :))

#ralph penbury #ralph timewasters #ralph penbury fic #ralph x ofc #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic

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foundtherightwords · 1 year ago

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All Our Yesterdays - Chapter 3

Pairing: Ralph (Timewasters) x OFC

Warnings: outdated/period-typical attitudes about women, mentions of war, mentions of pregnancy and abortion (involving a supporting character), some angst, some smut (non-explicit)

Chapter word count: 4.7k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2

Chapter 3

For a fleeting moment, while her brain was still heavy with sleep, Thu thought she was at her grandparents' house in the Hue countryside for the summer holiday. Everything was still. The sound of traffic that woke her up every morning was absent, and somewhere in the distance, impossibly, a rooster was crowing. Then she felt a strange pillow under her cheek, felt a crick in her back from sleeping curled up on the couch, remembered what had happened the night before, and bolted up.

It was no dream then. She was still in the room with the old-fashioned tiled floor and the rattan furniture. A clock on the cupboard told her it was just after six, her usual time of getting up. Good to know that even almost a hundred years into the past, her circadian rhythm was still the same.

The bright early morning light streaming through the window helped to clear her head. She had been such an idiot the previous night. It was the shock that got to her. But now that she'd gotten some rest, she knew what she had to do, and it was so absurdly simple that she wondered why she didn't think of it sooner.

The bedroom door was still closed, and she didn't want to wake Ralph. She found a piece of paper from her backpack, scribbled "I'm going back to the future. (She couldn't stop herself from dropping a little reference, even though he wouldn't understand it.) Thank you for all your help, Thu" on it, and left it under the coffee cup on the table. Then, lifting up her backpack, she set out for Tràng Tiền Street—Rue Paul Bert, she remembered to correct herself.

It was early, and though the streets were busier than they were at night, it was nothing compared to the seething hive of modern Hanoi. Office workers probably wouldn't start their day for another hour, and most people she met were day laborers and street vendors, just like it was in her time. Funny how some things never changed. A woman walked past, dressing in the rural style of a brown tunic and black skirt, her hair hidden under a black scarf, carrying a steaming basket on her head. "Hot sticky rice!" she called. "Come get your hot sticky rice!" The warm scent of the steamed rice topped with crispy onion wafted toward Thu, making her mouth water and her stomach growl. She remembered she hadn't had anything to eat except for a mouthful of dry bread since the previous night. But her money was no good here. So she swallowed and walked on.

The way from Ralph's lodgings to the IDEO Printing House was less than one kilometer, but without the familiar landmarks, Thu had some difficulty in finding her way. Eventually, though, she recognized the façades of several buildings and found herself in front of the Printing House once more. Already workers were filing in through the front door, and the hunks of machinery she glimpsed the previous night - printing presses, she now knew - were shuddering into life. Thu mingled in with the stream of workers, hoping she could pass unnoticed.

No such luck. A man in Western clothes, looking like a foreman, stepped in front of her. "Can I help you, uh, miss?" he said in Vietnamese, sizing her up.

"Uh, yes, I'm here to see the director," Thu said in what she hoped was a confident voice. "My boss wishes to have some visiting cards printed."

"The director's not in," the man said. "You can talk to me about any order you wish to place."

"But my boss insisted on speaking to the director himself."

"Who's your boss?"

"Uh, Monsieur Davinier, a photographer on Tràng Thi—I mean, Rue Borgnis Desbordes," Thu said, using the first name that came into her mind. "Really, I won't be a minute." She pushed past the foreman and rushed into the elevator. It had now changed from the slick design of the 21st century into an old-fashioned style, the kind with two sets of doors that you had to close by hand before the elevator could move.

The foreman was shouting for the workers to stop her, but she ignored them and pulled the two doors shut.

That was when she realized she had no idea what number to press on the keypad.

Would "2023" work? But there was no "0" button.

Wait, there was a "∞" button she hadn't noticed before. Could she use that?

"Here goes nothing," she said under her breath and pressed 2 - ∞ - 2 - 3.

Nothing. Perhaps just 2 - 3 then?

No.

2 - 3 - ∞? Still no.

She pressed 2 - ∞ - 2 - 3 again, really pressed them this time, as if doing so would make it work.

Still nothing. The elevator didn't move. It didn't even beep.

"No, no, no," she muttered, running her hand over the keypad, searching for—what? She didn't know. Some evidence, some sign to show her which buttons to press. But there was nothing.

As she stared at the keypad in dismay, the doors were yanked open. The foreman pulled her out. "This is a workplace," he said, dragging her across the factory floor, "not a fairground for you to play around in! Get lost!"

"But—wait—" But this is my way home, she tried to say. The only way!

"Get lost or I'll call the gendarmes!" the foreman said, shoving her through the door.

Thu stared at the ink-coated door of the Printing House. It wasn't until now that she realized she hadn't truly believed this was happening. She had been able to stay so calm throughout the previous night because she had thought this was all just a nightmare, and she could end it simply by stepping back into the elevator. All her hope had rested on it. She should have realized that it wouldn't be that easy. She might be stuck here for the rest of her life.

A sudden feeling of complete, utter loss washed over her. She had never had a panic attack, but she was pretty sure she could feel one coming on now. Her heart started racing, her body alternated between freezing and burning up, and she trembled all over, unable to move.

The ruckus from her trespass into the Printing House had already caught the attention of some curious onlookers, and now her crying was attracting a crowd. Suspicious murmurs rose around her, speculating about her outlandish appearance, her strange behavior. Over her own hyperventilating breaths, Thu caught a few words, "crazy" and "madhouse" and "police". She wanted to defend herself or to run away, but her legs wouldn't move, and she could only stand there, gasping like an idiot, while the rubberneckers surrounded her like a gloomy cloud.

A figure in white parted the cloud and came running to her side.

"What's happened?" the figure asked in English. It was Ralph.

That familiar smell was back, and it came to her in a flash—Palmolive soap, the same kind she used at home.

At the memory, strangely enough, Thu's panic subsided. "It's... it's not working," she said, trying to get her breath back. "The elevator, the lift, the time machine, whatever. I thought I could get it to work, but I can't." By now, the crowd around them had swollen to a mob. Ralph looked around warily.

"Come on, let's get out of here," he said, giving her arm a clumsy little pat and steering her away.

***

They went back to Ralph's rooms on Rue Borgnis Desbordes. Over breakfast - more coffee, bread (fresh this time, but still no butter), and eggs, boiled by Ralph over a spirit lamp - Thu told him what had happened with the elevator.

"I think Homeless Pete is the only one that can operate it," he said, once she'd finished.

"Do you know how to find him? Can you call home or—I don't know, send a cable or something, to see if the jazz quartet was still there and if they have any information for me?" Of course, if the other time travelers were still stuck in London to receive Ralph's message, it would mean they hadn't found a way home and she would be stuck as well.

A furtive look came into Ralph's eyes. "I—I can't. I—uh—I don't have their address. Sorry."

Thu remembered how she'd wondered about him the previous night, and now she studied him more closely. "What are you doing in Indochina anyway?" she asked.

"I—uh, I wanted to see the world."

"Last night you called Hanoi a mosquito-infested hellhole!"

"It has its charms, all right?"

She narrowed her eyes at him. She had always been careful not to judge a book by its cover, but even so, she had to admit that it was difficult to be suspicious of Ralph. He looked about as threatening as a puppy, with an open, trusting face, round eyes that the morning light showed to be a warm brown rather than dark brown as she'd thought, and light brown hair pomaded close to his head in the fashion of the time, though a rebellious curl over his forehead refused to be tamed. If the curl rose up any higher, he would be a dead ringer for an older Alfalfa from The Little Rascals.

There was definitely something he wasn't telling her, but Thu decided to let it go. It was none of her business. Getting home was what she should focus on, and to do that, she must find Homeless Pete. Well, a Western homeless man in French colonial Hanoi shouldn't be hard to find, should he? That was to say, if he wanted to be found in the first place...

"Look, Homeless Pete is like a bad penny," Ralph said. "He always turns up."

Thu stared blankly at him. That particular idiom had never made sense to her.

"In the meantime," he continued, "why don't you try to—I don't know, have fun a little?"

"You don't understand," she said. "I can't just drop everything to have a romp through history, all right? I have a life back in 2023! I have responsibilities!" Had she gone missing in her time? Were her parents freaking out right now?

"Well, you're already here," Ralph said with a shrug. "What else can you do?"

His calmness made her stop for a minute. Perhaps there was some truth in what he said. Panicking would help no one right now. She was in 1920s Hanoi. She was having a romp through history, whether she wanted to or not. True, she was woefully unprepared, but she knew her history well enough to understand that there were worse, much worse times in Vietnam's sad and tumultuous past to arrive in. She could have ended up in the Famine of 1945. She could have ended up in the Christmas bombing of 1972. She could have ended up in the Tây Sơn Uprising of the 18th century. Here she was, in a relatively peaceful time, colonization notwithstanding, with relatively modern amenities and relatively modern sensibilities. The country had its first wave of feminism, its first taste of romanticism in art and literature, and modernization, all around this time. So why not make the most of it and have fun, as Homeless Pete had instructed?

"OK, so it looks like I'm stuck here for the time being," she said slowly. "I suppose I could try to explore a bit and enjoy myself."

Ralph smiled, relieved. "That's good," he said. "That's what Lauren and her friends did too."

"The jazz quartet?"

"Yes." Ralph turned slightly pink. "Lauren, Jason, Horace, and Nick. They had a blast. Well, except for Nick. Last I heard, he got taken in by a eugenic cult."

Thu raised an eyebrow at that. Hopefully, 1920s Hanoi would be less insane.

***

Once breakfast was finished, Thu made an inventory of the contents of her backpack and compiled a list of all the things she would need for her stay. So far, the only useful things in her backpack were her medicine - how lucky that she had just gone to the pharmacist during her lunch break the previous day (it already seemed so long ago! Well, it was a long time ago. 94 years ago, to be exact) to refill her birth control as well as to pick up a few basics like painkillers and vitamins. Her phone and portable charger were useless. Her money, useless. And so her list looked like this:

- Money?????

- Clothes (áo dài?? Can't buy until have money)

- Essentials: toothbrush, hairbrush, towels, etc. (again, no money)

- A place to stay (can't crash on Ralph's couch forever, again, no money)

"What did your jazz friends do for money, when they were in 1926 London?" Thu asked Ralph, who had been watching her with the same awed look he had the previous night.

"We—that is, my sister, Victoria, and I—we—uh, we kind of take them in," he replied.

"And so they just freeloaded off of you? You can afford that?" Thu stared at him. "You must be filthy rich!"

"I don't know about that..."

"So what are you doing here, working as a photographer's assistant? You're some trust fund kid wanting a taste of adventure or what?"

Again, the furtive look came into his eyes. He glanced away, fiddling with his suspenders, then finally turned back to her with an air of devil-may-care defiance. "All right, if you must know, I was cut off when I ran away from home to join the French Legion," he said in a rush. "I was in Morocco for a couple of years, and it was absolutely miserable, so when I was transferred to Indochina six months ago, I just—left. And now I'm stuck here."

It took Thu a moment to process all that. It explained why he was running away from those legionnaires, at least. "So you deserted?"

"Yes," he said, casting his eyes downward. "When I joined, I didn't expect it to be like that—"

"What, you thought you'd be out on the battlefield, killing infidels like a crusader?" Thu snorted.

"No!" He looked at her, indignation blazing briefly across his face. "I don't know—I thought it would be more of an adventure. But it was just a lot of backbreaking work, building roads and things. And the way they treated the locals was appalling. Not that it's much better here," he added apologetically. "But at least I'm not directly involved anymore."

Thu looked at him again and saw him for the boy he still was. How old was he? Around her age, twenty-four, twenty-five at the most, but somehow, in his shirtsleeves and suspenders, he looked younger. She had to admire his unflappable optimism. He had never known anything but a cushy upper-class life in London, and one impulsive decision later, he was thrown into an alien world. He was just as lost here as she was.

"Why would you stay here?" she asked. "I can't imagine that the Legion would treat deserters with kindness."

"The garrison is up north," he said. "They won't find me here. The two that we met last night—that was just an unlucky coincidence."

"Does Mr. Davinier know?"

"I gave him a fake last name, but I don't think he cared one way or another. He just wanted an assistant that speaks French. He claimed the natives are not reliable." Ralph's nose wrinkled with an apparent dislike for his boss.

"Why don't you just ask your sister to send you some money for a fare home?"

He winced and turned away again. "I'm not going to beg. Knowing Victoria, I'd never hear the end of it." For a moment, he looked so dejected that her heart went out to him.

But feeling sorry for Ralph didn't solve her monetary problem. If anything, it made it more pressing that she got some money for herself, instead of mooching off of him. Out of habit, she reached up for her pendant, and suddenly remembered both the pendant and necklace were pure gold. It was an 18th birthday present from her mom, who had said, half-jokingly, that it would go toward her dowry. Thu had never had much of a sentimental connection to it; she only wore it to show her mom her gratitude. And now she was more grateful for it than ever.

She sat up and turned to Ralph. "I'm going to Silver Street."

***

"How did you know where to go?" Ralph said, following Thu down the length of Silver Street while she scrutinized the signs advertising the prices of gold and silver. Of course, the houses had changed a lot, but other than the fact the signs were hand-written instead of digital, and there were no bored-looking security guards yawning on stools outside the shops, the street still looked soothingly familiar with its rows of jewelry shops and money changers. Gold and silver pieces gleamed behind glass cases or in the shopkeepers' hands as they lifted them up for the customers to examine.

"The thing about Hanoi is that it sticks to its traditions," she replied. "It's slow to change."

It took them a while to find an out-of-the-way pawn shop in an alley. The owner, a little old man with a salt-and-pepper goatee reaching to his chest and his teeth dyed black, stared at Thu and Ralph doubtfully over his glasses. "Did you just come from abroad?" he asked Thu in Vietnamese.

"Uh, yeah." She wracked her brain for a far-flung place. "Morocco. This is how they dress there." She winked at Ralph, and he responded with a smirk. Hopefully, she wouldn't start a new trend or something.

The owner shook his head over the exotic habits of the Moroccans, but he didn't ask any further questions. He weighed her necklace and offered her 20 đồng for it.

"Twenty!" she shouted, trying to look outraged. "Gold is one fifty an ounce, and that, with the pendant, is at least half an ounce!"

"But who knows where you might have gotten it from?" the owner retorted, eyeing Ralph with fear. Perhaps he thought Ralph was some sort of undercover policeman, and this was a setup. Thu had to laugh at the idea. Who would believe that this fresh-faced boy was a cop?

"Don't try to be righteous, mister," she said, grabbing the necklace off of the scale. "If you don't want it, I'll find someone else that does."

That did the trick. The owner quickly put out a hand, whose pinky was topped by a long, curving nail, to stop her. After some more bargaining, he finally agreed on a price of 60 đồng, while still grumbling about how she was robbing him blind.

"That was wizard, how you talked him into it!" Ralph breathed out as they left the pawn shop.

"Thanks, I guess," Thu said, amused. She had no idea what "wizard" meant, but it sounded like a compliment. "I'm just used to haggling. You kind of have to be, living in Hanoi."

60 đồng. How long would it last her? Thu's mind was busy running through all the books and documents she'd read about colonial times, trying to remember if any of them mentioned the cost of living. But such details would have been deemed too dull for the novels, while the history books were more concerned about politics and revolutions. Why didn't they write about anything useful?

OK, let's say the money would last her a month. And when the money ran out and Homeless Pete didn't turn up, what then? She had to figure out a steadier source of income. Perhaps she could ask Ralph to put the money in a bank for her and live on the interest. Could she trust him not to run off with it? He was in need of money...

She glanced at him, slightly ashamed. After all, he hadn't been anything but nice to her, when he could've left her to fend for herself. But still, she shouldn't depend on another person. Could she find a job? What did women do for a living in this time anyway?

Buying clothes proved to be another challenge. There was no ready-to-wear clothes shop for women; everything was bespoke. So that's why they looked so chic back then, Thu thought, remembering the photos she'd seen of women from the 1930s in their elegant áo dài, tailor-made to fit them exactly. She wasn't even sure she could pull off something like that. In her time, áo dài were reserved for formal occasions, and she always felt so gawky in them. But the silks on display looked so soft, the colors so bright and pretty, that she couldn't resist dropping into one of the many tailoring shops along Silk Street and asking to see some samples.

"You would be wanting the modern áo dài, wouldn't you, mademoiselle?" the tailor, a fat man with even more pomade in his hair than Ralph, asked. "Or perhaps you're interested in Western dresses?"

He turned to Ralph and asked something in French. Ralph turned bright red. "Non, non, nous ne sommes—" he stammered. "C'est pour elle," he waved a hand toward Thu.

"Très bien, monsieur," the tailor said with a simpering smile and returned his attention to Thu.

Seeing Ralph's uncomfortable look, Thu had a pretty good guess of what the tailor had asked. She had half a mind to go to a different shop, where they would be less likely to jump to conclusions, but she realized that for this time, it was a natural assumption from seeing a young Vietnamese woman with a Western man. Besides, their silks were exceptional. She ended up ordering half a dozen áo dài and was positively giddy to find out they only set her back a few đồng each - in modern day, they would've cost millions.

"They'll be ready in a week, mademoiselle," the tailor said smoothly, after he finished taking her measurements.

That still left her a week with nothing to wear. Then her eyes caught the male mannequin in the shop window, and a sign advertising ready-made shirts and trousers.

Well, why not? She had drawn enough attention to herself, running around Hanoi in her modern outfit, which was basically men's clothes anyway. So why not blend in with some style?

"May I see some of your men's clothes?" she asked the tailor.

"For monsieur?" he asked.

"No, for me."

The tailor's eyebrows went up a fraction, but he said nothing, only signaling to his assistant to bring out some shirts and pants. Apparently, he was much more used to dealing with eccentric customers than the pawn shop owner.

Half an hour later, they left the shop together, Thu feeling very spiffy in her striped button-up and white linen trousers held up with suspenders, just like Ralph's. She still drew some curious stares, but she didn't feel like a sore thumb anymore.

"What is it?" she asked, catching Ralph's glance.

"Oh, nothing," he said. "I'm just wondering if women in the future prefer to wear men's clothes. Lauren does too." He seemed to mention Lauren a lot, more than the others. Thu wondered if there was something between them.

"I don't know." She shrugged. "They're just more comfy, you know? I have to say, it's much easier for women in men's clothes to get accepted, not so much the other way around. I wish it wasn't like that, but hey, gender stereotyping is hard to overcome." She added, "I like Lauren though. She sounds cool."

"She is," Ralph said. His face was pink again. Yep, definitely something between Ralph and Lauren - hey, Ralph Lauren, that's rich, Thu sniggered to herself.

It was almost noon, and Thu thought about buying Ralph some lunch, to repay his kindness.

"Oh no, there is no need—" he began.

"No, please, I insist. Where do you usually eat?" she asked.

"At a bistro near the studio," he said. "It's the only place I know. There's also a store where I buy cheese sometimes, but it's expensive, so it's only for special occasions."

Thu was appalled. "And that's all you've been eating for the last six months?" she asked. "In the best food city of South East Asia, and you only eat French food?" The thought of him eating stale bread and rancid butter made her want to cry.

"Isn't French food the best in the world?" Ralph said, confused.

"Not when there are better and cheaper options!" She shook her head. "I'm going to have to educate you on this."

Thanks to the ever-present street vendors of Hanoi, food was the one thing she wouldn't have to worry about while stuck in the past. She kept an eye out for any vendor that looked promising and soon set her sight on a man with a shaved head sitting between two tall baskets, one containing a pot boiling over a portable charcoal stove, the other containing the rest of his ingredients, as well as bowls and chopsticks. The warm, savory smell coming from the pot was unmistakable, and Thu immediately dragged Ralph toward the stall. "Come on, you are in for a treat," she said.

Ralph hung back a little, unsure, but eventually, he followed her.

Thu asked the vendor for two bowls. The vendor eyed Ralph with some trepidation, but he served them anyway, putting two handfuls of noodles into the bowls, sliced some paper-thin beef on top, poured the piping hot broth over everything, before topping it with some fresh herbs, some chili, and a squeeze of lime.

"Are we just going to eat here on the street, like this?" Ralph asked.

"Yeah, it's part of the experience. Tuck in."

Ralph couldn't quite master the chopsticks just yet, but their unwieldiness didn't deter him. The moment he took the first sip of the broth, his already round eyes went even rounder with delight.

"This is so good!" Ralph exclaimed. "What is it?"

"It's phở. Beef noodle soup. Our national dish," Thu answered with pride. Although she had eaten countless bowls of phở, Thu had to admit that there was a certain sweetness to the broth and a smoothness to the noodle that the modern phở couldn't compare. She had to resist the urge to pull out her phone and snap a photo for Instagram. What hashtag would she even use? #pho1929? #timetravelfoodie? Yeah, right.

"And how much for this bowl?"

"Ten cents."

"Ten cents?!" He almost dropped the chopsticks in disbelief. "You mean to tell me I've been wasting my money eating at that exorbitant bistro when I could have this for a tenth of the price?!"

"Of course the bistro is expensive," she said. "They have to import butter and cheese and what have you, and by the time they get here, they don't taste so great anymore. Eat local when you travel, my friend. It's always best."

"We pack our food when we travel."

Thu's lip quirked up. "What? So you go to France with fish and chips in your bags or something?"

"No, not like that. Like when Mr. Carter went to Egypt. You know him, Howard Carter?"

"Yeah, you're talking to a museum archivist here," Thu said. "He's the one who discovered Tutankhamun's tomb, right?"

"Exactly! The papers reported that he bought his supplies from Fortnum & Mason, and after that, it was all the rage to stock up there before any trip abroad."

Ralph listed off all the food the 1922 expedition had brought along to the Valley of the Kings. Thu was fascinated—the history books she read certainly didn't mention that. "I think they brought all that food, jellied lobster and curried fowl and wines, just so they could have the crates to pack the mummies in and ship them back to England later," she said.

Ralph laughed. She hadn't heard him laugh before, and for some reason, it pleased her, knowing she had made him laugh.

Chapter 4

A/N: A bit about the money in this chapter - the official name for the French Indochinese currency is "piastre", but everybody called it "đồng" (meaning "copper" or "coin"). In 1920s, 1 piastre = 100 cents = 10 francs. A bowl of phở did cost 10 cents back then. For comparison, it costs 35.000 VND now (about 1.5 USD).

#ralph penbury #ralph timewasters #ralph penbury fic #ralph x ofc #joseph quinn #joseph quinn fic

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