I'd like to say right now, that I have only ever watched seasons 1-3, so I'm not sure if they did this sort of thing in later seasons. I'm not too fussed if they did, as without Peter and Assumpta it's not quite the same.
This is set some time after the death of the Javelin and before any retreats/ hasty marriages. In my world, they didn't happen.
Disclaimer: none of it's mine, most especially the Fosters...
The townsfolk of Ballykissangel always looked forward to summer. The long warm days filled everyone with joy and optimism; life was good and even better when spent with friends and family. So when summer didn't arrive as expected, an air of disappointment settled over the town. The disappointment turned into frustration as the days turned into weeks, and still the mild days persisted.
The few who could, left their corner of the Emerald Isle for hotter climes. The majority, left behind, started to blame everyone and everything from the government to global warming to Michael Flatley.
Eventually, the mild spell broke and the weeks of missed heat were delivered in one fell swoop, wreaking havoc with the idyllic hamlet, and turning everything topsy-turvy.
The heat was unbearable. For five days straight, the mercury had been inching higher, and from all reports, it was only going to get worse. As Peter made his way to Fitzgerald's, he wanted nothing more than to strip his confining uniform off and stroll around in shorts and a singlet. He felt his brethren in permanently hot parts of the world deserved medals of honour for enduring such discomfort every day of their working lives.
The temperature in the pub was barely cooler than outside, and had the added discomfort of being packed – not what Peter was expecting on a hot Monday afternoon. Desk fans were dotted round the place, the largest of which was pointed at the teacher and mechanic at the end of the bar. The vet was nowhere to be seen; Peter was not about to let the opportunity to perch himself on her stool go to waste.
"Brendan. Padraig. How are things?"
They didn't respond immediately, their attention caught by the opening of the door. A pair of female tourists walked in; they watched as they walked up to the bar, ordered drinks and sat down at a table at the opposite end of the room, out of sight.
"Grand, just grand." Padarig drawled.
He could see that his companions were in no mood to make light conversation. Fortunately, Assumpta soon appeared to take his order.
"Before you ask, we're out of ice. So, what'll it be?"
She grabbed the fan that was pointing at the three of them, and turned it on herself. She was covered in a fine layer of sweat, making her skin glisten. There was a lot of skin he realised, noticing that she was wearing the flimsiest excuse for a t-shirt he'd ever seen. It looked like something out of a lingerie catalogue and it made Peter's mouth go dry.
"Cuppa tea please 'Sumpta" he croaked out.
She looked at him like he'd grown a second head. "Tea?"
"We'll have another round of Fosters too." Liam piped in while it looked like she was still listening to orders.
"I've already told you that just because it's Australian doesn't mean it's any colder than the rest of the largers."
"Sure it is. It's made in a hot country, so when it gets here, it gets colder than all these local ones." Liam reasoned.
"But it's not even brewed in… Oh never mind." Assumpta folded, storming off to get their drinks.
Peter looked around him and noticed every pair of male eyes was on Assumpta. He followed their gazes and watched as she bent over to get the Fosters from the fridge under the bar and her top revealed a glimpse of hot-rod red bra.
"He's punishing us." the school teacher stated.
"Who is?" Peter asked.
"Your mate, up there. He's put a temper designed to kill a man in a beautiful woman, and placed it behind the only bar in town on a day as hot as hell."
"Those two don't know what's comin' to them if she catches wind of what they're doin'" Padraig commented, taking a sip from a can of Fosters.
"And no one's thought to warn them?" Peter asked, looking at Quigley's men.
"Some lessons are best learnt through experience." Brendan replied.
Assumpta unceremoniously dropped Peter's tea in front of him and went back to serve demanding customers at the other end of the bar. He watched as she took their order, and as she went to the same fridge and got another round of the blue and gold cans. He downed his tea in one gulp, as though it were a stiff drink.
"I would've thought Niamh would be here to help with the crowd." Peter noted after the show was over.
"She and Kieran are hiding out at her father's while he's away."
"Holed up in his air conditioned study is what I heard, running up the mother of all electricity bills." Padraig added with a hint of glee.
Peter could feel a trickle of sweat trailing its way down the back of his neck. He examined his empty cup. Without a drink or companionable chatter, there was little point in prolonging his stay. Just as he was about to take his leave, Assumpta came up again, turning the fan on her and ignoring the grumbles from her regulars.
"Want anything else Peter?"
Can of Fosters. Can of Fosters! His mind yelled at him to say. "Nah, best be getting on my way. Father Mac has summoned me."
"Something serious?"
"I have no idea. He rang me out of the blue about two hours ago and told me to get to Kildargen and be quick about it."
"Two hours? Mustn't have been long after he left here then. Good to see you hurrying along so quickly."
"Well I couldn't possibly have left without first alphabetising my tea collection."
Assumpta chuckled and turned the fan back on the others. Peter started to leave, but was stopped by her voice calling to him.
"Early Gray? E or G?"
"You know, it's been two hours and I still haven't figured it out."
Father Mac's temper was short at the best of times, but with the heat and a tardy curate to deal with, his tolerance levels had dropped to all-time lows. He looked at Peter and noted the beads of sweat forming at his temples. He hope that keeping Peter as uncomfortable as possible would work in his favour; the young curate had far too much energy, and Father Mac was certain he took a contrary position just for a bit of sport.
"Father Clifford, it's come to my attention that the people of Ballykissangel are suffering from some sort of temporary heat induced madness."
"Well, it's hardly surprising. We're not really set up to cope with such things." Peter said, pulling at his collar while he watched the hairs on Father Mac's head be tossed about by the cooling air of the fan.
"That may be so, but it's your duty to make sure that they're being looked after and their energies guided in the right direction."
"Energies? Everyone is wilting. No one has any energy."
"Father Clifford, are you wilfully misunderstanding me? Your flock are spending their money in a rather haphazard way at the local pub, while your collection plate is left empty. It's your duty to change this. I was in there earlier and couldn't believe what I saw; people throwing their money away on imported beer after imported beer."
"Perhaps I could serve frozen margaritas during communion." Peter joked.
"This is no laughing matter, Father Clifford!" Father Mac bristled. "I suggest you organise something to bring people together and get them out of Fitzgerald's!"
"And what do you 'suggest' I do? A wet t-shirt competition? Because I can't see anything else being able to rouse enough energy to get people involved."
Father Mac's face had turned several shades redder than it had already been. Despite the fan blowing directly on him, beads of sweat were forming on his brow as his frustration levels rose. He took a long deep breath before replying.
"You will have something appropriate organised for this weekend, or I shall be commandeering that lovely evaporative cooler in your vestry for use in the church here. Your parishioners will have no use for it if they're in the Alehouse instead of the house of the Lord."
Peter knew when he was defeated. He took his leave and made his way back home. If he could hardly muster the energy to get up in the morning, how on Earth was he going to rally the town to get behind an event?