Graceful Abaddon

Harrod Jumps (5-7)

Chapter Five

As had been routine for years, Saturday night was spent, when Jude returned from mass, watching Pointless on the telly, over an English fry-up of sausages and mustard, potato waffles, fried egg and baked beans. Peter loved watching Pointless, especially when the subject was obscure cities or anything to do with geography. Jude enjoyed the literature questions. Both despised the sports ones.

Luckily Georgia liked Pointless too, mostly because she had a thing for Richard Osman. Personally, Jude preferred Alexander Armstrong.

This time, with three contesting couples remaining, the question was countries beginning with 'M' or 'C'.

"Oh, for God's sake," crowed Georgia, "that's easy".

Jude smiled, leaning over towards Heather. The little girl sat next to her, idly playing with some colourful game on Georgia's tablet.

"Sweetie, can you think of any answers?"

Heather only looked at her. Jude tried again.

"Can you think of any countries beginning with the letter em?" To help her further, Jude sounded it out. "Mmmm. What starts with mmm?"

"How old do you think she is, Mum?" Georgia sighed.

Jude ignored her. "Come on, Heather. Which country does Mrs Peel come from?"

"Mrs Peel," said Heather.

Georgia shook her head, retuning her attention to the TV and her bowl of Quavers.

"Where does Mrs Peel come from, sweetie?" Jude pressed. Please try, darling, she begged inwardly. I can only help you so much longer. She hated to think what might happen to her grandchild's emotional health when she got older and her nanna wasn't there to support her.

"Mrs Peel is from 'nother country," Heather said, bringing her fingers up to her mouth, offering Jude a shy, loving smile. She'd done this since she was two.

"That's right, dear," said Jude. "What country did Mrs Peel come from?"

"Leave it, Mum".

"For Pete's sake, Georgia, give her a chance!"

"Mrs Peel from 'nother country," Heather repeated.

"Yes, but what country?"

Jude took hold of Heather's wrists. Gently, she pulled them down so her fingers left her mouth. They shined stickily with spittle. "Moree," Jude pushed, silently mouthing the rest of the word. "Morr-eee".

"She can't even say Mauritania," Georgia interrupted. "Just leave her alone, Mum. She isn't going to get it".

"I'm trying to help her get it," Jude snapped, flicking her eyes angrily to Georgia. "Which is more than she can expect from anyone else".

Georgia's hand, mid-way to her mouth with another crisp, stopped. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," Jude said, quickly turning back to Heather. "What other countries start with em, sweetie?"

"No, Mum," Georgia persisted, sitting forward in her chair. "What did you mean? You think I don't try to help her?"

"Can you say Mexico, darling?"

"Look at me, Mum!" Georgia raised her voice now. "You think I don't try to help her?"

"No, Georgia!" Jude cried, exasperated to the point of nearly crying. "I didn't mean that. Of course I don't think that. I shouldn't have said it. I just want to encourage her, that's all. I want her to at least try".