The Book Of Jude

Chapter One: Paradise

`And Eden raised in the waste wilderness...´ John Milton, Paradise Regained, Line 7

She rested her head against the window and looked out at the sky. It was heavy with an imposing blanket of gray clouds. She had a feeling it would surely rain before the day was over. That was just fine with her--the weather seemed to fit her mood. However, the weather was not the only thing on her mind, but it was certainly a more pleasant choice of topic than that which had occupied her thoughts for most of the trip--and most of the previous week, to be honest. She tried to occupy her mind with subjects of indifference, such as the weather, to hide what she really felt--she was nervous. Rarely nervous, or afraid of anything, she resented the fact that her feelings refused to obey her at the moment. She willed herself to calm down, yet her mind continued to race.

She fingered the silver charm in the shape of a four-pointed star--like compass points--suspended by a chain around her neck and wondered if she really had the courage to take this step. The conclusion she reached was a swift and resounding "No." She´d never considered herself brave before now, so what made her think that she wouldn´t chicken out and run as fast as she could back to the only safety she had ever known? That answer was also simple: she had to do this if she was ever going to make a life for herself.

A life for herself: she almost laughed at the idea. She had never imagined that her life was hers to control. And she still wasn´t sure if that´s how it worked. Does one control their own life, their own destiny? Or are we all merely toys subject to the capricious whims of fate? No. It had to be the former. If not, then what was the point of making choices in the first place? She had made a choice and now it was up to her to follow through with it. She was determined.

As the scarlet steam engine skirted the hills of Northern England, the destination approaching with increased speed, she felt her nerves rise to an even higher pitch. She didn´t understand why she was working herself up over such a trivial matter. She had managed without magic of any sort for eight years on her own.

"Okay," she reasoned mentally, "so only two of those years I had to manage alone and with out magic." So she concluded that maybe it wasn´t giving up magic and everything to do with it that had her so unnerved. Maybe it was the fact that she would be starting over, completely alone--again.

"But then," she reflected, "I´ve really been on my own, in one way or another, for most of my life." She didn´t know whether this evaluation of her preparedness was helping or not. It hadn´t distracted her from the proverbial butterflies in her stomach, but it had relieved some of the tension. She was ready for this. She was determined to meet this with the same cool indifference that had preserved her throughout past difficulties. Emotions--nervousness and fear--would make her weak and she could not afford to surrender her resolve to such feelings. She would do this.

"End of discussion," she told herself with finality.

As she lifted her forehead from the cool glass of the window and leaned back against her seat, shutting her eyes, the door of her cabin opened, letting in the noise of the rowdy students ready for the summer holidays. A head crowned with bright red hair poked in apparently unnoticed by the occupant of the cabin. Before the intruder could offer an explanation for the intrusion, he was interrupted. In an annoyed and weary tone the occupant informed the startled intruder that, yes, this cabin was taken, that she hadn´t seen anyone or anything he might be looking for, and that he could not seek refuge here from anyone whom he may have hacked off in any manner that would warrant such a necessity for escape. The red-haired boy met her cold stare evenly.

"Sorry to have disturbed you, Jude," he apologized in a clipped manner. "I see you´re in no mood for company, so I´ll just shove off, then." She returned her gaze to the passing countryside as the boy made his way back into the hallway.

"Oh," he paused and poked his head into the cabin once more and continued, "good luck with what ever it is that you plan to do, I hope everything works out for you."

She glanced at the boy to see if he was serious or if this was merely another joke. She was, after all, the celebrated target of most of the ridicule and teasing at school, so she was able to discern at a glance what was spiteful and what was sincere. It was a talent. This boy, she concluded, was entirely earnest judging by the friendly and somewhat stupid smile he wore.

"Thanks, Charlie," she said, somewhat taken aback by his statement--but not much. She quickly returned to analyzing the view from her window as the intruder retreated in search of whatever quarry he was pursuing.

She´d never had any friends at school. She was singled out as the object of hatred for some students, while others were content with just mild ridicule and disdain--following the crowd. Still, Charlie and his brother had actually attempted to befriend her. She had, of course, repelled such attempts at friendship. She refused to be the project of a couple of do-good Gryffindors, however well meaning they may have been. Likewise, she would not be held responsible for ruining the reputation of a popular and well-liked student for the selfish pleasure of companionship. And Bill and Charlie exemplified the popular and well-liked crowd at Hogwarts. Besides, she had done well enough on her own.

"Anyway," she inwardly joked. "Who could have been a better friend to me than myself?" She had to laugh at that. It was a lie--sometimes she was her own worst enemy. Yet, overall, she was content with the way she had taken up indifference and aloofness as her shield. It had allowed her to handle the past seven years.

"Just shy of seven years," she mused. She came to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry on October the Thirty-First, Nineteen-Eighty-One. It was now June the Twenty-Sixth, nearly seven years later and this was the first time she had ever taken the Hogwarts Express to or from school. This scarlet steam engine was the way typical students were transported to and from the magical institute. Yet, she was not and never had been the typical student. She, unlike the other children with whom she attended classes, had not arrived by the September First deadline and had not been sorted into one of the four school Houses through the Sorting Ceremony. These were only a few items on the list that set her glaringly apart from her schoolmates.

Thinking of her classmates, she had no regrets of what she was leaving behind. By no means was she feeling sorry for herself--that helped no one. She was simply evaluating the last seven years as a method to steady her nerves and to provide ample reason as to why she would not miss this former life. She certainly would not miss any of her own housemates. Although fiercely loyal in theory, even her own House had disowned her. She could not blame them, however. The Slytherins had a reputation to uphold. Her dorm mates, Sabine MacDermod, Adelaide Blake, and Marah Talbot, had been particularly venomous. They had created a somewhat united front against her, and she was willing to believe, as a hobby. If she had actually hated any students at school, these three would be at the top of the list. The catch was though that she didn´t really hate anyone, nor did she blame others for her misfortunes. Everyone had their reason for disliking Jude and it was usually a pretty damned good one.

Her school years did not consist only of disdainful students. There were also a few wretched teachers to throw into the mix. Ptolemais Aster, Astronomy teacher and Head of Slytherin House during Jude´s first year, had been one of her many adversaries. He was old and overly cranky and looked on Jude as a problem that he was stuck dealing with. She wondered sometimes if Dumbledore´s placement of her in Slytherin House under Professor Aster was intended as punishment. She realized, however, that it was not to be long-lived. Professor Aster retired after her first year, an immense relief. The new Head of House for Slytherin was to be the newly appointed Potions Master, Severus Snape.

Professor Snape was a man Jude recognized from her past. She knew about his involvement with Voldemort--the self-styled Supreme Dark Wizard of his time--and of his betrayal of the Dark Lord in favor of Albus Dumbledore--Voldemort´s only worthy rival and leader of all efforts to end his reign of terror over the wizarding community. Headmaster Dumbledore had offered Professor Snape the position as a teacher at Hogwarts because he was acknowledged as the leading mind in his field. He was also hired because Dumbledore needed someone to look after Jude who was up to the challenge that she presented. And if anyone could understand Jude, it would be Professor Snape. As she had recognized him the first time she saw him at the school, he had also recognized her. She was known by only a handful of people outside the ranks of Voldemort. She was the Dark Lord´s student and protégé, until she too defected at the age of ten. Dumbledore had taken her in and allowed her to study magic at his school--of course, under strict guidelines from the Ministry of Magic. The `handful of people outside the ranks of Voldemort´ was the wizard-bureaucrats who invented the many regulations to keep Jude `under control.´ They knew who she was and what she was capable of, so certain rules were invented by them and applied only to her to ensure the safety of the other children she would be attending school with. Basically, this was merely a restriction on fighting back in any way, shape and form. Because of the Ministry, Jude was an undefended target for her classmates. Needless to say, she became very good at keeping out of arms´ reach.

Professor Snape had, over the years, become her friend. He, along with a select few of the staff, Dumbledore included, had done their best to make her years at school bearable. She would miss them--the only people that resembled anything close to a family she had. Jude promised to write to them, but she hadn´t decided yet if she would actually keep that promise. Her plan, after all, was to sever all ties with her former life--the bad and the good.

The train began to slow. She looked out the window and saw on the southern horizon the buildings and bridges that made London famous. The time had passed swiftly by while Jude had been lost in thought. She felt that seeing the city should have brought back all the feelings of nervous tension she had been fighting, but rather, an eerie calm seemed to spread over her. She had not seen the city for years and she did not relish the memories that came rushing back at the sight of the tall buildings peeping through the thick fog.

***

The train slipped into King´s Cross Station noticed only by those who had come expressly to meet its arrival. Families lined the crowded platform and waved to their children as the train huffed and puffed to a final halt. The doors of the scarlet engine opened and streams of chattering students merged with excited families and annoyed porters carrying trunks and cases of all sizes. Jude remained behind in her cabin while the mob of her former classmates dissipated. In the hallway she gathered her things and headed for the exit.

As she stepped from the train, she caught sight of Charlie and a gaggle of red heads teeming about him. He smiled and talked animatedly to his family, clearly glad to see them once again. She turned her gaze from the happy family to look for the exit. And a thought suddenly struck her: this was clearly a magical platform in the middle of a Muggle train station, so there had to be some trick to gain passage to the outside world. She looked around her in frustration for any sign or instruction that would clue her in as to how one gets into the Muggle station--and the rest of Muggle London. She felt more ignorant than the daftest first year.

"No," she thought. "Even first years know how to get out of here, no matter how daft they are."

While she was mentally kicking herself, she saw the red-haired family disappear through a brick barrier. So that was it--you simply walked through a wall? She picked up her bags and headed to the barrier. She took a breath and stepped through. There was no turning back.

As she turned around, she was facing a solid brick divider between platforms Nine and Ten. All traces of the magical platform with the glossy red locomotive were gone. She had done it--she was on her own.

She hefted her luggage and resolutely made her way to the Information Desk. After checking the schedule for outgoing trains, she purchased a ticket for the first available one to Cambridge. The only problem was that it didn´t leave until four. The clock above the desk read only a quarter `til one.

"Excuse me, but do you know where I can check my bags until my train leaves?" she asked a portly and hassled-looking attendant.

The man behind the desk pointed in the direction she should go. She thanked him and hurried over to dispose of her burden. She left all her belongings with a porter to be loaded onto the train--with the exception of a few items: a coat, for it looked more and more like it would rain by the second, and a slim, smooth rod of wood no longer than nine or so inches. The next problem was how she would occupy the three hours before her train departed.

***

`Known by the Sobriquet of `The Artful Dodger,´ Charles Dickens, Oliver Twist, chapter 8.

She didn´t like London--she never did. The only advantage of living in London was the ability to lose oneself in the crowd. Still, she had decided that there was nothing else to do to pass the time, so she might as well explore a place that was `home´ to her at one point in her life. She had first entered the city when she was six years old. She and another boy had run away from the orphanage at Basingstoke in Surrey, a small town not that far south of London.

The orphanage at Basingstoke wasn´t horrid like the descriptions of such places one would read about in Dickens, Bronte´, or the like. It wasn´t, on the other hand, the most wonderful place in the world. It was simply a place to leave children who had nowhere else to go. She was dropped off at this orphanage in Nineteen-Seventy-Two, when she was around one or two years old--so said the report Jude had stolen from Mrs. Bertram´s office. It also said that she was dropped off by a woman with sandy-blonde hair that would only leave the office with the name of Elliot. Jude could not fully remember this woman--only in brief flashes of memory could she retrieve any recollection of her. This Ms. Elliot did not claim, nor did she deny claim to, the title of mother of the child that she was abandoning at the orphanage.

Along with the one page report, Jude stole the small bracelet that accompanied the document--the only token she had of a life that she was never allowed to know. This bracelet she kept close to her always, but no longer wore. It was given to her, she assumed at a very young age, for the trinket was very small and could no longer fit around her wrist. It was a simple piece of jewelry and not very expensive, she guessed. The bracelet was merely a braided golden chain attached to a small plate on which was engraved the words `from a brother who loves you´. So, all in all, the information she had in her possession did not tell her much about herself: she was left by a mother, she assumed, with the surname of Elliot, who did not love her, and she had a brother somewhere who had loved her. The rest of her history was a blank slate on which it was her job to write her life.

The hints of her existence she had stolen--yet not truly stolen, for they were hers to begin with--were augmented only minimally by what she was able to wrangle out of Mrs. Bertram, the mistress of the orphanage and caretaker of all its occupants. Mrs. Bertram did not like the children that her post charged her to look after, and least of all the children she liked was Jude.

Naturally, Mrs. Bertram was not forthcoming with the description of the woman who had abandoned her. All she would say was that she was not tall, she was of middling age, not strikingly handsome, and that she had blonde hair and fashionable shoes. She also enjoyed adding that the woman probably saw in Jude the same strangeness that she herself had noted on first meeting the child. Mrs. Bertram wasn´t a particularly mean and wretched woman, but it was clear that she would have preferred to be anywhere other than in the midst of a throng of children that she had no clue how to deal with.

Mrs. Bertram had often remarked that Jude was a "strange one." And she had to admit, she did have a penchant for making bizarre things happen at the most unfortunate times. It amused the other children, but it unnerved Mrs. Bertram. Her "strangeness" did little to raise Jude in Mrs. Bertram´s esteem, therefore she had little to thank the woman for--except, maybe for teaching her to read--and so, felt no remorse for leaving the old woman and making her way to the city five years later. She left with a boy she believed was named Tommy for a companion, not exactly to look for her lost family, but just to look for something. She couldn´t have said what she was looking for at the time, just some clue as to who and what she was.

The two children entered into the throngs of London. She and Tommy lived by picking the pockets of the resident and tourist population of the city. Jude was much more skilled at this occupation than her companion and was not surprised one day to see him grabbed by a sharp-eyed bobby. Poor Tommy had probably gone back to Basingstoke or to one of the London facilities for children--there was no way for her to ever know for sure. It was for the best maybe, as Jude was much better at working alone. She haunted the well-known tourist spots and the heavily trafficked areas of the city. Whitehall, Trafalgar Square, Westminster Cathedral: she knew all the prime locations and peak times of visitation within a year of roaming that city shrouded in fog. She knew the city inside and out. Places she´d seldom visit were few and there were good reasons not to explore their secrets further. One such place was Hyde Park, or any other large public park, for that matter: these places were heavily populated most times, but they were also areas concentrated with police officers--not the sort of company she liked to encounter.

She also liked to visit Charing Cross Road, yet she seldom had the courage to employ her skills here. The crowd here was far different from other parts of London. Sure, there were still the typical tourists and locals as were found in other areas of the city. But here Jude had discovered an oddity: other residents were present here, only they looked like they belonged to a London of another time. She explored this street and found a strange and dingy-looking pub with an ancient sign that proclaimed the establishment to be the Leaky Cauldron. It was not the sort of place that attracted the tourists, nor even the regular sort of locals. The crowd that thronged in and out of the place was usually dressed in strange attire and most patrons wore cloaks and robes in the manner of characters in a storybook. She would spend hours watching the passersby and noticed that all the normally dressed people seemed not even to see the place, nor the odd sort of people that issued forth from the pub. When she had nothing better to do, she would come down here and watch the people ebb and flow through the dingy wooden doors of the establishment. They somehow seemed beyond her skills of a pickpocket, and some were of a slightly rougher-looking nature than she usually sought out, so she always contented herself with merely watching them.

As Jude walked the streets of London, killing the time until her train departed, her feet unwittingly lead her in the direction of this very street. Of course, now she was aware that the strange pub, the Leaky Cauldron, was the entrance to Diagon Alley, the wizards´ bit of London. She had discovered this fact when she was seven, one night when two men dressed in black had appeared out of the shadows, seemingly from nowhere.

No one had ever marked her presence in that street before tonight. As the two men approached, Jude got to her feet so she would be ready to fly from danger if she found it necessary. She noticed that these two men were of the strange sort of visitor to that street. The two who approached her seemed apprehensive, as if her presence there was suspicious and a cause for concern.

"How much did you hear?" the man on the left side said to Jude, who stood frozen to the spot. Under the man´s hood, she could see pale cold eyes and blonde, almost white hair. When Jude did not answer, the man became angry and, reaching into his robes produced what looked like a wand. Like a magician in a magic show.

"A wand?" thought the child absently at the ridiculous scene she was presented with. It seemed comical to her, yet something inside her implored her to see this man and the odd weapon in his grasp as a valid threat.

"I asked you a question, child." The man pointed the wand at Jude but was interrupted by the person at his side. The second man cautioned the other in a hissing whisper.

"Lucius, patience. Let me speak to her." The sound of this voice sent chills down her spine, yet she was determined not to betray to the men any of the fear that was building up inside of her.

"Come here, child," The second man hissed and beckoned her to cross the four or five feet that separated her from the two of them.

She met his gaze evenly--his eyes were an unnatural and glowing red, yet the stare was cold and calculating. She could not move. She was petrified by fear. She hoped that someone would pass by and frighten the two specters back into the shadows, but it was quite late and any hope of such a welcome interruption was dim. She broke the stare after what seemed like a small eternity when she discerned movement from the other man. The hand that held the wand was raised quickly and leveled in her direction. As if by instinct, she raised her hand and willed the wand away from the man and into her own hand--instinct, how else would she account for it later? She had no inkling of what a wand was used for nor did she know how to use one. However, she didn´t want the man, who knew what he held and how to use it, to have it. She hadn´t a clue as to how she had managed to take the object from the man without crossing the distance between them and physically plucking it from his grasp--it just happened. "It just happened" was something she remembered saying quite often to an exasperated Mrs. Bertram.

When the child looked back at the second man, he was, to her surprise, laughing. The other, whose wand she now held in her own hand, did not find the situation amusing.

"Bested by a toddler, Lucius?" The man laughed in a manner entirely devoid of mirth.

"That was...impossible!" the man gasped. The one with the mirthless laugh chuckled again.

"No, not impossible, my friend." He looked at Jude with an appraising eye. "Not impossible, as this child has demonstrated. Sorcerers and Sorceresses still exist. They are not a myth," the man explained, casting a covetous glare at the child. "Just extremely rare. And for one to show talent at such a young age..."

The man took a step closer to Jude, but she did not move an inch. "How old are you child?" He asked.

"Seven," she replied proudly, then added a hesitant, "I think." The man took another step forward.

"You think? You do not even know your own age?" he interrogated, growing more interested in the curious creature by the second.

Fearing she had already given too much information away, the child pressed her lips together and gave the man a skeptical glare. She was clutching the wand tightly with both hands, not pointing it at any particular target or intending to use it at any point. It merely served to steady her shaking hands.

"Where are your parents?" the man asked, beginning to sense the truth of the matter. "A child like you should not be wandering the streets at night. You never know who you might run into."

His attempt to frighten the child was ineffectual--at least she did not visibly betray any sign of being frightened of him. He took another step closer to the child, and still she did not flinch. Jude had begun think that she was not afraid of the man any longer, just...curious.

"You have no parents, am I right?" the man asked.

Jude shook her head, no longer hesitating to answer his questions, for she longed to ask questions of her own. He took yet another step in her direction.

"What were you doing here in the dark, outside this hole-in-the-wall pub?"

She was mildly shocked that he knew about the pub that she was beginning to think was a figment of her imagination.

"I was watching the..." She didn´t know what to call them and, in any case, did not want to offend the man. "The funny people."

He laughed another cold, joyless laugh. "Funny people? Why I, and my friend," he indicated his partner with a motion of his head, "and you are those `funny people.´"

This revelation astounded Jude, and the result was that she was more curious than ever.

"We are like those people and yet we are not like them. They have not realized that true power comes from purity, of mind and of blood. I could teach you about what you are--help you to develop your talent. You could be great--I could teach you many things. Would you like to learn more about who you are?"

The man played on the child´s deepest desires--to know who and what she was. Her attention was riveted on the man who held such answers within his grasp. His companion had silently advanced while his leader addressed the child who had stolen his wand. He stood a little behind and to the right. As his Master concluded his speech, he saw the child´s arms slack as the wand tumbled from her fingers and landed on the wet pavement at her feet. The child nodded her head, her eyes still captivated by the man who held the answer to her every question.

"Come," he ordered triumphantly as he turned on his heels. The child followed the man obediently into the shadows of the dark alleyway. The man with blonde-white hair bent to retrieve his weapon from the ground and turned to dutifully pursue his Master and the child.

As Jude walked the spot where she had first met the man that turned her from a mere thief into a murderer, she involuntarily shuddered. He had never wanted to teach her to become great, He just wanted to ensure that she would never become greater than He was. He had never intended to teach her to use her talent. No, He intended to make her a mindless disciple willing to do His bidding. He didn´t even hold the answers to the questions that had for so long eluded her. All He had were various tricks and manipulations. She unconsciously tugged her coat sleeve further over her left wrist. That man--Voldemort--had taught her merely to hate.

"If He were here to see me now," she mused inwardly, glancing down at her faded jeans and trainers, her coat buttoned up against the sharp wind of an oncoming storm--the picture of a Muggle--she had to smile.

"He´d probably kill me on the spot." She stuffed her chin into the collar of the coat and turned her steps back to the station.

As she passed by the waterfront, she produced from her pocket the slender wooden object that she had extracted from her luggage. Her very own wand--not a necessary object for a person of her skill, but because of her involvement in the Dark Arts, the Ministry had decreed that she was not allowed to practice magic without a wand--and even then, she was only allowed to practice magic in the classroom. Her wand was Yew and Unicorn Hair, nine inches long. Yew--associated with the Dark Arts, graveyards, and the very same wood used in Voldemort´s deadly wand. Unicorn Hair--from a magical creature that represented all that was pure and good and innocent.

"I guess I was a contradiction from the start."

With little ceremony, she flung the bit of wood over the railing of the bridge and into the river.

"Enough with reflection," she thought. She had a train to catch.

***

Just as she had predicted, the sky released its hoarded stores minutes before the train pulled into the station. She stepped off the train and gathered her things--which was not much, considering she had left behind all things magical. She took a deep breath as she walked out into the rain. She did not have an umbrella and thought briefly of casting an Impermeable Charm on her coat, but remembered that she would no longer allow herself to use such abilities. Not knowing really where to go, she figured the first thing she needed to do was simply to get out of the pounding rain. An indeterminable amount of time had passed since she had left the station, but she continued to walk in search of something or some place she really couldn´t put her finger on.

Upon informing Dumbledore and Professor Snape of her plans to leave the world of magic behind her and start her life anew, they had made every effort dissuade her from her choice. She had refused, of course, her Headmaster´s offer of a position at the school--the staff at Hogwarts, especially the Headmaster, had already done so much for her and she refused to accept any such charity. She was determined to live the rest of her life as a Muggle and with as little assistance from others as possible. She had accepted Dumbledore´s aid in securing her acceptance to Cambridge, where a great friend and colleague of his was on the admissions board of King´s College. It had helped that she was an excellent student and her marks were among the highest in her class--in a magical school however. His help in acquiring her acceptance, therefore, was absolutely necessary. All other aid was declined.

Dumbledore had, then, sincerely wished her luck in her pursuits and hoped for her success in her new endeavor. Professor Snape, however, had cautioned her when he had learned of her plan to leave. He thought that she was merely running from her problems instead of facing them head on. He warned her that if she tried to run for too long, the problem would only grow. And problems always caught up--you could never leave them behind. Somewhere in the back of her mind she knew that this was good advice from someone who knew what he was talking about. Yet she had made up her mind, and for the sake of her very sanity, she had to try and make a go of whatever new world awaited her. In the end, he had finally relented.

"I hope that your problems get lost along the way to catching up to you, then." She could still hear his words and, then, she missed her family, her friend. She shut her eyes against the rain and closed her fingers around the charm dangling from the silver chain around her neck. He had given it to her the night before she left. The star that was shaped like compass points was actually a Portkey. Not a typical Portkey however, this one required a short incantation to activate its magic. All she would have to say while holding that charm was "Domi"--home--and she would be there. She opened her eyes and reluctantly released the chain. She picked up her bags and continued to trudge down the road.

She could not recall what time it had been when she left the station, but it was now getting dark and the rain had not relented.

"Eden Street," read a street sign above her head. "Sounds great, let´s go." She urged herself on to the small bakery on the corner of Paradise.

The lights were ablaze within and it looked pleasant and dry inside the café. As she shook the water from her coat, she glimpsed a sign in the window. As she opened the door, she noticed a sign proclaiming `Help Wanted.´

An elderly woman bustled over to her and held the door open for her while she shoved her bags into a corner and removed her coat.

"Poor dear, still raining, I see," exclaimed the old woman with a shake of her white head. Jude looked down at the floor where she was leaving a rather large puddle.

"Sorry to bother you, ma´am, but I saw your Help Wan--."

But she was interrupted by the old woman who took Jude´s coat from her hands and hung it on a hook behind the door, beckoning her in. "Yes, I have been looking for someone to help me out around this place." She motioned for Jude to take a seat. "Are you a student here?" she inquired as she poured two cups of coffee and seated herself across from her.

"Yes, I am starting in the fall. I just arrived in town and I am looking for a job." She immediately liked the old woman for her frank manner of speaking and demeanor.

"Are you any good at learning?" The woman asked, putting Jude off a little at the unexpectedness of this question.

"I´m great at learning, if you´re good at teaching," Jude answered truthfully with a good-natured smile. She could learn anything from watching someone.

"Well, I can tell that your friendly, my regular customers would love you. And I like you already." She winked at Jude and smiled. She was just what Jude imagined a grandmother would be. "You´re hired, dear. And what did you say your name was?" Smiling, the old lady extended her hand.

"I´m Jude," she replied, taking the woman´s proffered hand.

"I´m Adda. And where did you say you were staying at?" the old woman asked, eyeing Jude´s soaked bags piled in the corner.

"I...I haven´t found a place yet--I´m still looking," Jude replied, a little embarrassed.

"Well then, dear, aren´t you in luck--I also have a room for rent above the shop. I´d love to have you. The room´s not much, but that means the rent´s not much--just a couple of bedrooms to let and a common room with a small kitchen. You can have the last room. That is, however, if you don´t mind sharing the space with a chap already living there--in the other room, I mean. Oh, and he has a dog. He´s a student as well, goes to Trinity College. His roommate kicked him out. His girlfriend moved in and hates dogs." She smiled and took a sip of her coffee. Jude did the same, more as an excuse to hide the astonishment at the length of her sentence. She wondered how such a feat was possible without drawing a single breath.

After a lengthy conversation consisting of Adda asking questions about her newest tenant and employee´s past, and Jude doing her best to evade such questions, the old woman rose from the table and removed the cups.

"You must be exhausted, dear. I´ll let you get some rest. We can settle everything tomorrow after you´ve had a decent night´s sleep. Here´s your key and it´s top of the landing. Your room is on the..." She gave a little thought to this next part. "Left, I believe."

Jude thanked Adda for her extreme and unexpected kindness, and made her way up to the room. She was surprised at how smoothly every anxiety she had about life on her own had been put to rest. Hopefully she would be able to have that proverbial and elusive `decent night´s sleep´ that Adda had mentioned. Sleep had never come easily to Jude before, but maybe her luck was about to change and she could just forget about everything long enough to drift off. She could use a good rest.