Peter let out a moan and rolled onto his side grabbing the pillow from under his head and holding it to his ear in an attempt to muffle the noise. He let out a deep sigh when he discovered this attempt had failed. He reached over in the direction of the bedside table, hoping to find his watch but it wasn't there. His head hurt. His eyes hurt. He felt sick. He took another deep breath, scrunched his eyes and pinched his temples.

'How much did I drink last night?', he thought to himself.

He slowly opened his eyes knowing he was only delaying the inevitable pain that light would bring. He hitched his breath and felt his body tighten as the harsh light made him flinch. He took another breath, deeper this time.

'What was I thinking?' he chastised himself under his breath as twisted round, sat up and rubbed his eyes again. He was hoping that by some miracle this action would have provided him with some relief, but it was to no avail.

It took him a few moments to register where he was. His surroundings were unfamiliar and he certainly wasn't at home. The walls were covered with swimming certificates and hand print art. The shelves were full of board books, hand painted ceramics and what looked like a few holiday souvenirs.

" Where am I?" he mutterd as he surveyed the room. He knew he was in a child's bedroom; that was glaringly obvious, but whose child and why? He scrunched his eyes shut one more time rubbed his forehead. Peter knew he needed to drink some water and take some paracetomol before his hangover got any worsd, but he daren't get off the bed, let alone venture out of the room. As he took another deep inhale he noticed his brother-in-law sleeping on the floor.

As if on que Toby looked over at his wife's brother and sat up. He looked awful. His complexion was grey, his eyes were bloodshot and Peter got a faint whiff of vomit.

"Good night hey?", Toby said as he rubbed his eyes "bet ya glad ya came". It was a statement not a question.

Peter nodded and smiled in acknowldgement. He was trying really hard to remember everything that happened last night, but some bits were fuzzy and others seemed completely missing.

He recalled Toby inviting him to join his friends at 'Spoons to watch England in the World Cup. But he couldn't for the life of him remember who suggested having a shot each time the team missed an opportunity. Judging by his headache, the national team had done badly.

He seemed to remember a couple of attractive women hanging around Toby and his friends, one of whom looked deeply dissapointed when Toby flashed his wedding ring.

Peter had never really understood what women saw in Toby until recently, especially his sister; they were complete opposites. Anne was educated, moral, polite and kind. She would much rather spend the night reading or at the cinema than be out on the town. Toby on the other hand was loud, could be brash and at times was wholly insensative. Over the last two years Peter had spent an increasing amount of time in Toby's company and it was clear he adored Anne and the children. Peter had decided a while ago that although Toby was a bit rough--ready with a take-me-or-leave-me attitude, he really was a decent bloke.

"I think I'm a dead man", Toby said surveying the room the two men had slept in

"You and me both", Peter replied in an attempt to lighten the mood, but Toby was looking really worried.

Toby's next statement hung in the air like a bad smell "She was really angry".

*

Peter's thoughts drifted back to last night. He remembered walking back to his sister's house arm in arm with his brother-in-law, both of them cursing their national team's continuing failure to perform under pressure. Like any good England supporter both men felt they could do a better job then the current manager and coach. Considering their team's abismal performance and 4-nil defeat they were both in good spirits. The two men laughed as they came up with various ingenious ways they could assassinate the England manager giving Toby the opportunity to be elivated from his current job (a window salesman) to the coverted position. Their jovial attitude continued until they reached the driveway. Toby had said something about making sure Anne didn't know he was drunk and had been determined to enter his home independently. He let go of Peter's arm and after a few paces he fell. In fact his attempt was such a spectacular failure it probably would've won him £250 on 'Britian's Funniest Home Videos'. Toby stumbled forward into his wife's car. Then with no warning he turned and vomited. Peter had erupted into hysterics upon seeing his sister's car covered in sick and knowing that there was no way his sister was letting that man anywhere near the marital bed anytime soon. The memory brought a smile to his face and he let out a small laugh. But no matter how hard he tried, he still couldn't remember how they ended up sleeping in his niece's room.

Peter heard the sound of laughter and footsteps clambering up the stairs and the door flung open. Two young girls ran into the room and practically launched themselves at Toby singing "Dad, dad, dad, dad, daddy, daddy, dad, dad" several times while using Toby as a climbing frame. Neither girl had paid any attention to Peter, who was still sitting on the bed, but he could feel two older eyes boring into him. He looked over towards the doorframe and saw his sister, face like thunder, standing with her arms crossed.

Peter opened his mouth to utter an apology but before anyone had a chance to say anything his eldest niece, Abby, said:

"You smell bad daddy", and after a momentary pause, "The room smells bad".

Peter looked at Toby then to Anne and then back to Toby. 'She's really pissed' he thought; he no longer considered Toby's accident funny. He reached up, rubbed his eyes and tried his hardest to seem pathetic and unable to cope with a hangover in a feeble attempt to gain her sympathy. It failed.

"It smells like a bewery in here", Anne said her voice dripping with disdain and displeasure, then she took one look at Peter, "I've no sympathy for self inflicted illness" she spat as she turned round and left. He glanced over to Toby unsure of what to do or say, but before he got a chancdle to speak he heard his sister call her daughters and then they were gone.

*

Later that day Peter was busy cutting vegetables in the kitchen. He was determined to show Anne that he was still a good house guest and he was greatful for everything she and Toby had done for him over the last two years. He knew Anne and Toby were lazy cooks meaning their four person family lived off frozen food, so he thought he would treat them to a homemade sausage and liver casserole just like his mum used to make.

"What are you doing?", Anne said as she entered the kitchen looking througherly unimpressed by the mess.

"Making a sausage and liver casserole" .

"why?",

"why not?"

"fair enough", she said as she shrugged and walked over to the window on the far side of the room. Peter could tell she was deep in thought. When she had stood in the doorway of her eldest daughter's room she had looked terrible. It was clear to Peter that Anne was was exhausted and regardless of how well she hid it with make-up, it was really beginning to show. He slowly put down the knife and walked tentatively over to her. He stood a couple of paces back and surveyed the garden. He was hoping he could find something to mention to help warm up the tense atmosphere that now existed between the two siblings.

"Im sorry about earlier. Well this morning, last night, whenever it was...", his voiced trailed off. He was sure she was crying, "Anne?" he asked but was met with deathly silence, "Anne, what's wrong?"

His sister turned and leaned against him causing him to wrap his arms around her into a hug. She was crying and with every passing moment she was crying harder, her breath was becoming more ragged and her body was shaking. "shhhhhhh" he whispered "it'll be alright". He didn't know what he was comforting her from or whether it would be alright, but he assumed that whatever it was she would be able to tackle it. After all, she had been his tailsman when he returned from Ireland.

After a few minutes Anne finally spoke as she took a couple of steps back from her brother, "I've done something terrible". Peter looked at her perplexed. Anne was a good person who would never do anything bad intentionally. He gestured towards the kitchen table and walked over to the kettle.

Peter made the tea in silence. Neither of them spoke until the two cups were on the table and Peter was seated opposite her.

"You're going to hate me" she said, not much louder than a whisper. Peter shook his head. He could never hate her. Sure, growing up they had their differences, in fact as adults they had more then a fair few altercations but he knew they were siblings and they did love each other. "I promise I won't" he said reaching across the table to take hers, "what have you done?"

She took a deep breath and began to recount her actions from the previous night.

"I so angry at you and Toby. You both came home drunk, Toby was sick down my car and you woke up the girls", she looked up at him but ensured she didn't meet his gaze, "after I shoved you both into Abby's room and settled the girls in my bed I did something horrible. Something really really horrible".

She broke down again, placed her head on the table and sobbed. She was almost hyperventilating by the time looked up at Peter again. Peter couldn't fathom what his sister could've done to cause her this much distress.

*

After the incident in Niahm's kitchen Peter had decided that he needed to leave Ballykissangel and severe all ties with the village and its inhabitants. It hadn't been an easy decision because he loved the place, but Assumpta marrying Leo had been his undoing; he couldn't bare to see her with another man and the thoughts of them together made him feel physically sick. He had still been unsure about his vocation when he arrived back in England and his Bishop had suggested another retreat "on home soil" and had heavily implied that an 'English retreat' would better suit Peter's needs, but all-in-all it had made little difference.

The day he had told the Bishop he wanted to leave the priesthood had been liberating. It felt like an oppresive weight had been lifted from his shoulders, that the black dog had been rehomed and that he would be able to serve God in a way that didn't focus on the collection plate.

As soon as he left the Bishop's offices he had wanted to call Assumpta, to tell her he was free but he knew he shouldn't. He knew he couldn't after all that had transpired between them. He hadn't spoken to her, or anyone else in Ballykea for that matter, for over eight months and there was no point in opening new wounds. He wanted her to be happy and a happy marriage is based on love.

'Assumpta married Leo. Urgo Assumpta loves Leo' he repeated to himself as he walked to Manchester Piccadilly Station and got on a train heading south.

Surprised isn't sufficient to describe how Anne felt when she returned from dropping her kids off at school to find her older brother sitting on her doorstep. They had never been particularly close, yet here he was. They had their ups and downs growing up, with most contention being caused by his blind obedience to the church and her general reluctance to do as she was told. He had been so sure of himself; he knew he wanted to be a priest and would frequently lecture her about the consequences of disobedience towards their parents and teachers, whereas she was unsure about where she wanted her life to go. As they had gotten older and she had moved away to attend university their relationship had changed. Peter had accepted she wasn't like him and she had accepted he wasn't like her. Instead of focusing on their differences the siblings had focused on the things they had in common: they cared about people, they both felt a strong sense of duty and they didn't pass judgement. That was why Peter had sat on her doorstep instead of his brothers'.

*

"There's nothing you could've done to make me hate you", Peter said reassuringly as he stood up and placed his hand in his sister's back. He crouched down beside her "Anne, please tell me..." he pleaded.

He was too close to her. Anne knew it. Peter was not a violent or aggressive man, but he did have a temper on him. A temper that reminded her of their father's; which was something she would rather forget. She needed to make sure there was some distance between them before she told him what she had done. She stood quickly and made haste towards the downstairs bathroom, ensuring she locked the door behind her.

"Anne? Anne? Please tell me what's wrong", Peter said through the door, "I promise I won't judge"

Anne bit her lip and leaned her head against the cool tiles on the bathroom wall. She was probably over reacting. Peter would be mad, he would probably shout at her and most likely storm off, but she couldn't face him when she told him. By shutting herself in the bathroom she had ensured that she wouldn't be able to look at him, she wouldn't be able to see the hurt and betrayal in his face. She took a deep breath and said shakily:

"I told Assumpta where you are and that you're no longer a priest".