Chapter One

1: Love Lies Bleeding

"I'm on a hiding to nothing, wouldn't you say, Father?"

"What's that?"
"Am I on a hiding to nothing?"

"What are we talking about here, Leo?"

"Ah, Come on here, Father. I ask you 'cause I think you're the man in the know," Leo stated with his voice taking on a note of menace.

"Sorry, I'm in the dark"

"I don't think that's quite true though, is it. I think you know what I'm asking.

Peter said nothing, then, "I don't"

"I think I'm on a hiding to nothing unless you say otherwise." Leo asked again, this time with a tone laced with open hostility.

Nothing.

"Last chance, Father," Leo added ominously, and with that, Leo left the kitchen and a bewildered Peter holding a now calm Kieran. Father Peter Clifford's already shaky world crumbled around him as his brain processed the dreadful algebra of Leo's accusation. He stared at the door Leo closed behind him. Moments later Assumpta walked into the kitchen and saw a picture of apparent domestic bliss: Peter holding Kieran. His looking so comfortable in a parental role prompted her to remark "You're a natural." When he turned to look at her, Assumpta's whole demeanor changed. Peter shifted his gaze between her and the door Leo had so recently departed through, as though physically connecting Leo's accusation with the woman standing before him. Assumpta couldn't help but notice Peter's extreme discomfort and the "thousand yard stare" in his eyes. Something very profound and upsetting had just happened between Leo and Peter, that much was obvious.

For years now, both Assumpta and Peter had been suffering in their own private hells of frustration, longing, and unrequited love, secure at least in the belief, that their suffering went unnoticed by their friends and neighbors, if not to each other. Leo, however, was a reporter by trade, and his journalistic instincts started quivering and sending signals that all was not well almost as soon as he arrived in town with his bride. Truth be told, he had suspected Assumpta's attentions were focused on the curate as long ago as when he was in town for the election. At that time he regarded the situation with a mild sense of amusement, now, however, the humor was entirely lost on him. This latest development was particularly distressing for Peter, for he had been found out.

The next few days for Peter were spent in constant meditation and prayer. He had a very big problem on his hands, two big problems, actually. He had returned from retreat with confidence in the hope he would be better able to manage his feelings for Assumpta, but Niamh's bombshell announcement of Assumpta's marriage to Leo threw him out of the ring before the opening bell. His carefully revitalized vocation suffered a mortal blow in its very first test. Every minute of his day dragged on, and each was more painful than the one before. Emptiness, that was the word, emptiness filled his days. He thought things could not get any worse, but then Assumpta and Leo returned to Ballykissangel and he was proved wrong yet again.

Up until then, Assumpta's marriage existed just in the abstract, but now there was visible, tangible proof. Just looking at her caused him pain, so he simply decided he would not look at her. Bravely, he tried to carry on in spite of his personal feelings, desperately trying to convince himself his sufferings were somehow noble. But matters continued their increasingly downward and ever deepening spiral. During the Battle of the Bars he thought he hit rock bottom when Aisling from McLogan's team sang the lament Love Is Pleasing, almost custom tailored to pour salt in his emotional wounds. While he may have hit rock bottom, the jackhammers and blasting teams were moving in, and there was yet more misery in store for the curate. Sleep, already problematic, became a new source of torture as his subconscious demons ran riot in the small snatches of sleep he was able to catch.

It was during the fracas over Assumpta's women's group that he really felt his grip on the situation begin to fail completely. Prayer was his only solace, but even that proved elusive, and when Assumpta followed him into St. Joseph's one night she asked if he wanted to talk about what was wearing him down. Surely she must have known that she was the true source of his anguish, yet here she was glibly wondering if he wanted to talk about it. The nerve of it. He lashed out with the cryptic accusation 'you put ideas into people's heads'. He then personalized it by forcefully repeating it. He had hoped she understood his meaning. She seemed to understand what he was implying, but words of reply and comfort wouldn't come. And then she paused on her way out of the church with the statement 'You can tell anything to a friend'. 'Oh death, where is thy sting', Peter thought. What could he possibly tell her that wouldn't make things much worse? What good would the truth do now? As a great believer in the truth, this shook Peter to the core.

Peter thought back to when this firestorm of personal crises began. He couldn't put his finger on the exact moment, but it had clearly been going on for some time now. In his turbulent emotional state he was incapable of clear and rational thought, which only further stoked the fires of doubt and uncertainty. More than a year of tension, frustration, innuendo, and longing finally reached Point Break as he held her hand in his car on a frosty night. The whirlwind of emotion that little episode touched off ultimately sent him on retreat and her to London and into the arms of Leo McGarvey. This was Mutually Assured Destruction of the Old School type and metaphorically speaking, the missiles were in the air.

Seeing that his vocation was collapsing due to the presence of the newlyweds, he decided that he would have to avoid all contact with Assumpta and the pub, but that was proving to be neither possible or feasible. He knew his time in Ballykissangel was coming to a close, and very soon. Staying in town would lead to madness, and now this latest set-to with Leo clinched it. It was abundantly clear that Peter had come between a husband and his wife, something the priest in him could not, under any circumstances tolerate. And since he was a priest, he felt he had to sacrifice himself for Assumpta's happiness, if not his own sanity. Once again he had to remove himself from the picture. This was not the lifestyle of a priest, and certainly not what he had signed up for. His brain was so addled by the conflict that he couldn't see the rich irony that he was as much an architect of his torture as she was. So with heavy heart and no little trepidation he picked up the phone.

"Father MacAnally, I need to speak with you, it is urgent. Yes, I'll be there right away."