Chapter Three: The Living
It had been more than two days that Adam and Kate were stuck in the 18th century, and Kate stated very firmly that she would not be sleeping in some dirty alleyway once again. On the third day, she decided that they should look for jobs as she was personally sick of eating apples from that half-blind man at the edge of the marketplace. Not only were the apples significantly smaller than her usual specially engineered fruit from back home, but she also claimed that they had a very unpleasant after-taste. Thirdly, she would, in the next day or so, find a way to take a shower or bath, even if it would seem unusual for her to do so every week, let alone every day, especially since they were trying to blend in with the middle class.
They had found success in a three-story building in the middle of the city made with cream-colored bricks that had been new quite a long time ago, as shown by their now brown color that varied across the front and the way that it didn't seem to stand straight up, but instead leaned over a nearly unnoticeable bit to its left side.
"Good Morning," said Adam, smiling kindly at the man across the counter. He wasn't thickly built, but he was definitely was tall, and that still made him look forbidding, or so thought Kate, who only took a glance at him before she took on more notice to the many breads, cakes, deserts, and other baked goods that were displayed before the man's counter.
Ten minutes later, Adam was behind the counter, seated with the baker, Jean-Clair Bussereau, who was very engaged in pleasant, laughing conversation with the other man. He later led them readily upstairs, which gave Adam time to explain what was going on.
"He said his father had died recently, and his mother had died as well from 'heartbreak.' They've got a free room for us to use, but of course the rent's going to be high, even with you working the store," he told Kate in German as the stairs creaked and cracked among walls that warned dangerously of splinters.
Kate looked with distaste at it all, and snapped back, "Me work the store? Why- Oh, God. Nevermind. I thought France was supposed to be the good country of women's rights!"
Her partner ignored these complaints, instead nodding and chuckling at a comment that Jean-Clair had made. They arrived at the room soon enough, and the baker displayed it proudly.
It wasn't a very big room, nor was it a very nice room. There were two large windows on the far side, set upon a milk-washed wall made of the same unsafe splintery material as the hall. The floor was wooden as well, but it did compliment the room with a rustic look, complete with nails sticking out every few feet. The good thing was that there was a wire bed frame that took up half of it, along with something that resembled a mattress on top of it. Additionally, a wooden table was up to the left wall that held a few essentials, like a large white bowl of water and a hand mirror.
Adam and Kate's friendly disposition faded and they tried to keep themselves from gagging.
"How much is the rent, again?" asked Adam. His mouth twitched as he put a delicate finger on the bed frame.
Jean-Clair still looked very proud. "Four sous a month with your lady's hours. Not a better deal in all of Paris, if I may say so myself."
They left quite soon afterward.
"Four sous? For twelve deniers to a sou, that's about about twenty quid a month, even with inflation." Kate thought aloud, tagging behind Adam's strong steps.
He, however, was deeper in thought and was generally in a very rigid and quiet mood. "No. Four sous is far too much. And for a place like that? Leave it to the dogs."
For once, Kate cracked a teasing little smile. "You just don't want to ruin your complexion by breaking a sweat every once in a while."
"And why should I? I haven't done any sort of hard labor since I was a child, and I'm certainly not going to start now," he grumbled. "Have I told you that I hated this century? It was bad enough even in the upper class. I can't imagine the same thing at the bottom of the scale."
"Well, if I'm going to be Little Miss Bread Lady, you've at least got to find something. It doesn't have to be hard labor. For all I care, you could be a professional pick-pocket, if people in this period actually had wallets in their pocket. Just come up with the money."
For a moment, Adam looked hopeful, but again, he said nothing for a quite a while. This was during the next few hours, where they searched hopelessly for another place to stay, and even begged a few building owners if they had any room at all. About three in their search did have an extra room, but just as Jean-Clair said, their rooms were twice as appalling with a higher rent.
Once the sun touched the horizon, they were at the bakery once again, with the man with a pleased look upon his face.
"This is my wife, Jeanne, my little Julie-René, and my brothers, Simon-Pierre and Philippe-Charlot. I also have a sister, Louise, but she lives with her husband and only helps a few times a week," he introduced a solidly built woman, a long-haired girl of about four years that was falling asleep, and two other young men, who had the same looks, but were considerably younger, in their late and middle teenage years. He also introduced Adam and Kate to his family, and they all gave nods of respect.
Philippe-Charlot, however, also made note to put some extra attention on Kate. "So you're Austrian? Not a word of French?" he asked curiously.
Kate stared and blinked for a second, and realized that Adam was not always kind enough to translate every word.
"Oui?" she shrugged. The others just laughed.
"Better now?" Adam kissed Kate's ear, wrapping his arm tighter around her as they both lay on the thing that resembled a mattress, but was more like a large pillow half-stuffed with feathers.
She nodded a little, feeling somewhat better than she was before laying out on the street. "I still can't sleep," she whispered. "It's so different. So primitive. I don't know how people can live like this."
"Hopefully, it will only be a little longer," he said into her ear.
Kate turned to her other side, now facing Adam straight on. It was dark, the dead of the night, but the lack of curtains made for a sliver of moonlight to allow her to see his face.
She started to cry, weep, and sob into Adam's shoulder. Afterwards, they were both forced into sleep.
A/N: Lil' mini chapters mean I will update soon after. And I think I'll name my kid Philippe-Charlot. It took forever to figure out the Bussereau family, but I think what I decided worked out pretty well. Apparently, a lot of people in France have (had?) a lot of double names. Quite awesome.