Series 5, Episode 2
"Of Marriage and Mortal Sin"
Niamh sat up in bed – well, as close to sitting as she could get with a mound of baby dictating which of her parts would and wouldn't bend any longer. Her back, it seemed was perpetually curved around her hard belly, and perpetually aching from never quite returning to its naturally straightness. Assumpta, slim and bendable, sat beside her, cross-legged, and glowering. And, Niamh was trying to decide if her friend was serious, or just being dramatic.
"You're not going to marry him," Niamh said, just to be sure Assumpta had heard it aloud. It sounded ridiculous aloud. "Ever?"
Assumpta scowled down at the tea she had propped on one knee, as if her reflection angered her. "He assumes too much."
"Well, I've got to say I made that same assumption as well. Didn't you tell me you were excited about marrying him?"
"That was months ago. A lifetime ago. And anyway, he never actually proposed. He just said it as if it were on his grocery list. And then he talked about mortal sin, as if that was going to sway me."
"You're waiting for a proposal, then?"
"I don't want to get married, Niamh. Why is that so difficult to understand?"
"Don't you want to spend the rest of your life with him?"
"I don't have to marry him to do that."
"Don't you want to have sex with him?"
"What makes you think we haven't?"
Niamh's shock quickly melted into delight. Finally they were getting somewhere. "Have you? Did you? Is that what that was – what I saw last week? You coming out of a guest room? Was it wonderful? I bet he's a careful lover. He's a very gentle man. He's good with-"
"Why does that prospect delight you?" Assumpta snapped. "I didn't say we had slept together."
"Oh. Then it's just a prospect?"
Assumpta rolled her eyes. "You're on his side. You want me to marry him. You think everyone should get married. Have babies." Her eyes landed on Niamh's middle.
"I just want you to be happy," Niamh said.
"Do I look – do I look even remotely happy?"
"No," Niamh said with a smile. "But you look as animated as I've seen you in months. You look alive."
Assumpta huffed and glared back down at her tea again.
"He's got you thinking again. He's got you reacting."
"He's got me doubting."
"Doubting? Doubting what? Him?"
Assumpta shook her head. "No, never mind. I'm going to make some fresh tea. Want some?" She was out the door before Niamh had a chance to answer.
Paraig looked out from under the bonnet of the car when he heard the garage door open and close again. Peter smiled when he saw him, and gave a small nod of hello.
"Well, well," Paraig greeted with a smile of his own. "The prodigal son and all that. Welcome home, Peter."
"Thank you."
"You are staying, I take it? She didn't manage to put you off, did she? There's a pool going around, but my money is on you."
Peter gave a sad snort of amusement, shook his head. "I'm looking for a place to stay, though, and I was hoping I might kip on your couch for a night or two."
Might as well kiss that fiver good-bye, Paraig thought. "Of course. My couch is your couch. Stay as long as you like. I'll do you one better, though. Brendan's looking to find someone to take his cottage, now that he's no longer playing at house. I'm sure he'd let it month to month if that would suit."
"It would. I'll ask him, thanks," Peter said quickly, awkwardly.
"Things that bad, eh?"
"I tried to do the right thing, but instead I've made a mess of it all."
Paraig nodded. "You look like a man who could do with a spot of tea. Come on, I'll make you a sandwich."
"Oh…" Peter shrugged. "I don't want to put you out."
"It's no trouble. I could do with a bite myself."
When Assumpta didn't return, Niamh ventured down the two flights of stairs and found her sitting at her kitchen table, a cup of steaming tea in front of her, staring off at nothing. Niamh sat next to her, and when Assumpta didn't move, Niamh took a sip of her tea.
"I thought you of all people would understand," Assumpta said, though she still didn't look at her.
"I do understand. I think. Well, as far as I can, I suppose. But I can't help but think that if he loves you, which is painfully obvious, and you still love him, which I know you do – so don't bother to deny it -"
"I don't deny it."
"Then why not marry him? You two will end up married anyway, won't you?"
"No!"
"Oh, really? You're going to be sixty with your ex-priest boyfriend?"
"Come on, Niamh. He'll be long gone by then."
Niamh cocked her head to one side. Maybe she was starting to understand after all. "You really believe that, don't you? That he's going to leave again."
"It's what he does."
"Assumpta."
"What? He left someplace to come to BallyK, didn't he? And that pretty English girl followed him all the way here to get him back."
"We don't know that."
"I know that."
"You don't."
"Well, what we do know of him only goes back four years. How many other brokenhearted lasses has he left behind? I could be one of dozens."
"Dozens?"
"Hundreds."
"We're still talking about Peter, right? Peter Clifford? The man who stood in front of the Pope and declared his undying love for you."
"He did not."
Niamh shrugged. "You're forgetting the most important thing."
"Which is? And if you say love, I'll punch you."
"Peter's not in Rome, Assumpta, and he's not in England. He's here. And there was a time not too long ago that you would've sold your soul to have him back."
"I'd say I have."
"You don't mean that." And then Niamh wondered if she did. "Assumpta…you're not going to break it off with him, are you? He gave up the priesthood for you."
"So? What? I owe him now?"
"You got your marriage annulled for him. And Leo was a perfectly good-"
"Yes, Niamh! I'm aware of what Leo was!" She bounded up from the chair, and bolted from the room.
Paraig shook his head and whistled.
"Yeah," Peter said, elbows on the table, sandwich halfway to his mouth, forgotten to the story he'd told. "I know. I can't believe it either."
"Oh, I can believe it," Paraig said. "It is, after all, Assumpta. I just wouldn't want to be in your shoes."
"You can believe she won't marry me?"
"Oh, yeah. And I can't say as I'd be any different, if I'd had the time of it that she's had. I've never seen anyone crack up like that – and my wife left me, so I have some empathy for her, there. Peter, you may have known that you'd be back, but she certainly didn't."
"I know, I know."
"It's difficult to recover from something like that, you know?"
"But she will, won't she? I won't let her go."
Not knowing what to say, Paraig shrugged and took another bite of his sandwich.
"She's going to punish me for the rest of my life, isn't she?" Peter moaned.
"Well…it is Assumpta, after all."
The confessional was dim and cool, and Peter kneeled and genuflected just as he'd done countless times before. "Bless me, Father, for I have sinned. It's been a week since my last confession."
There was a shifting in the shadows, and then the sound of a throat clearing. "What do you wish to confess?"
Everything and nothing.
"Sixth commandment mostly. I've willingly engaged in impure thoughts, and I willingly placed myself in occasions of impropriety, and…" But it was more than lust that he needed forgiveness. He closed his eyes for a moment, and then took a deep breath. "Father, I worry that my pride has hurt her."
"In what way?"
"I didn't consider how deeply my actions would affect her. I thought that my love, my sacrifice, would be enough to garner her forgiveness. I thought my tresspass was minor. Noble, even. Selfless."
"But now you don't think so?"
"No. I think that any value I place on myself is dwarfed by the mark I've left on her soul. She's changed, Father, and it's my fault. I've hurt her deeply. Unintentionally, of course, but I've hurt her nonetheless. And I see now that I wasn't noble or selfless."
"Have your feelings toward her changed with these revelations?"
"No. Not even remotely."
"Have hers changed for you?"
"She says no, and I believe her. But she's fearful. I've lost her trust."
"She's been hurt before."
"I believe so, yes."
"By other men in her life."
"She's not said, but I believe that to be true."
"What do you intend to do?"
"I don't know. I don't know that there's anything I can do, except continue to tell her of my dedication, and hope that will somehow make the difference."
"You mentioned….impure thoughts and 'occasions of impropriety.'"
"Yes, Father."
"But not fornication."
"No, Father."
"Mm. You know, sometimes actions speak louder than words."
"Father?"
"I cannot advise you to have pre-marital sex, but an act such as that would, hypothetically, go a lot farther in proving your continued dedication."
"What?"
"Talk is cheap, Peter. She has to know that you're in for a pound on this."
"By me undertaking a mortal sin."
"You're playing by different rules now. Mortal sin is mortal sin, but you're not a priest anymore, and everything can be forgiven."
"I can't believe what I'm hearing," Peter teased, and Father Mac gave a quiet chuckle.
"You've had a bad influence on me, I'm afraid. Look, she's not just going to come round, I think we both know that. There's a reason why she hates the Church so vehemently, Peter, but I'm not at liberty to discuss it with you, and anyway, it should come from her."
"She's a complicated woman."
"She always has been," Father Mac agreed. "I'd say…follow your own conscience, but then, you always have You'll know what to do."
"Thank you, Father."
"I forgive you in the name of the Father, the Son…"
FADE IN.
The inside of Fitzgerald's, mid-afternoon. KEVIN sit bored behind the bar, playing swords with a couple of straws. The rest of the place is completely empty. His father pokes his head in the door.
PARAIG
You're here? I thought you were
studying with Alana.
KEVIN
I was. But Mrs. Eagan called. It seems
herself isn't quite up to it today, and
I didn't want Mrs. Eagan to have to get
out of bed if she didn't have to.
PARAIG
Good man. But you're sure you don't
need to study?
KEVIN
(shrugs)
I know it all.
PARAIG
Right, then. I'll have a burger, chips and
a pint.
KEVIN
How's a sandwich, crisps and a pint?
PARAIG
(grinning)
Not cooking?
KEVIN
Not if I can help it.
PARAIG
Sandwich, it is.
The door opens, and FATHER CHRIS walks in. He's wearing his uniform, and looks about.
FATHER CHRIS
Opened or closed?
PARAIG
I've been promised a sandwich and
crisps.
FATHER CHRIS
(sitting at the bar)
I could do with one of those.
The door opens again, and this time it's EAMONN poking his head in, looking about anxiously.
EAMONN
Is it safe?
PARAIG
Kevin's serving today.
Eamonn nods, and then takes a seat between Father Chris and Paraig.
EAMONN
I heard the priest is back.
(glancing at Father Chris)
The other priest.
FATHER CHRIS
He's not a priest anymore.
EAMONN
Really? They let him go? They really do that?
FATHER CHRIS
(dryly)
So it would seem.
EAMONN
(to himself)
I thought it was a myth!
BRENDAN and SIOBHAN walk in, Brendan carrying a baby's car seat. Everyone calls hello and offers congratulations, that they both accept. Siobhan looks very happy, and Brendan looks exhausted. They settle at the bar next to Paraig.
SIOBHAN
A couple of orange juices, Kevin.
Kevin nods, and fills the orders.
PARAIG
(looking at the baby)
Wow. There's no denying paternity, is there?
PETER comes in, and there's a more subdued, but still warm greeting for him. He smiles, but looks distracted as he takes a seat at the bar.
PETER
(to Kevin)
How are things?
KEVIN
Just so. Can I get you a pint?
PETER
Coffee, thanks.
PARAIG
(to Brendan)
So, what's she called?
BRENDAN
Aisling. After my mother.
SIOBHAN
(stiffly)
She'll be christened Caoimhe.
BRENDAN
(tired and irritated)
We haven't decided on that.
SIOBHAN
I want my daughter christened.
BRENDAN
She's our daughter.
PETER
All right, you two. There's still plenty
of time to decide what you want to do.
FATHER CHRIS
Decide? Of course the child will be
christened!
BRENDAN
The Church doesn't get a vote!
FATHER CHRIS
Vote? There's no voting! It's your parental responsibility
to protect that child's immortal soul!
BRENDAN
We have the freedom to practice or not
in Ireland. Or have you forgotten?
FATHER CHRIS
You'd condemn your own child to purgatory?
What kind of a father are you?.
PETER
All right, now. Easy.
SIOBHAN
He's a brilliant father!
BRENDAN
(shocked)
What?
SIOBHAN
What? You are!
FATHER CHRIS
The child will be christened next month.
I've already got it on the books.
BRENDAN
And just how much is that going to
set me back?
FATHER CHRIS
Would you really put a price on your
innocent baby's soul?
BRENDAN
I'm sure you would.
SIOBHAN
It's not about the money. And I
want Aisling christened.
BRENDAN
And I'm not sure!
PETER
There's still plenty of time to talk
about this rationally, when emotions
aren't running quite so high.
FATHER CHRIS
When what? Emotions?
(wrinkling his nose)
Well, I can see why you failed as
a priest.
Kevin gasps, and Eamonn's eyes grow even wider.
KEVIN
I'll just make the sandwiches.
Kevin disappears into the kitchen.
PETER
I did not fail as a priest. I fell in love.
FATHER CHRIS
That's what they all say.
PETER
Who are you to judge me?
FATHER CHRIS
'For I verily, absent in body, but
present in spirit, have judged already,
as though I were present, concerning
him that hath so done this deed.'
PETER
'Judge not according to the appearance,
but judge righteous judgment.'
FATHER CHRIS
'He that toucheth pitch shall be defiled therewith.'
PETER
(with a tight smile)
'Like people, like priest.' You are my priest,
Father O'Neill, and I could do this all day.
FATHER CHRIS
'And the publican, standing afar off, would not
lift up so much as his eyes unto heaven, but
smote upon his breast, saying, God be merciful to me a sinner.'
PETER
'Let not your heart be troubled: ye believe in
God, believe also in me.'
FATHER CHRIS
(eyes narrowed)
I do not doubt your sincerity, but you will not
council my parishioners on matters of the Church.
PETER
I was advising friends to put a little distance
from their argument before they make any decisions.
FATHER CHRIS
Oh, I know what you were doing…Peter.
Liam and Donal come in. Liam takes in the tension, and then see that there's no one behind the bar.
LIAM
(to Peter)
Give us a pint there, Father.
FATHER CHRIS
He's not a priest anymore, you half-wit!
LIAM
I just want a pint.
PARAIG
I'll get it. Or…
(nodding to Peter)
You've got to start somewhere.
BRENDAN
Yes, go on, Peter. Give us a stout.
PETER
Me? But Assumpta won't –
Assumpta hurries in from the kitchen with a couple of plates of sandwiches.
ASSUMPTA
But Assumpta won't what? And whose are these?
She puts the plates down in front of Paraig and Eamonn, and then looks pointedly at Peter.
You're back, are you?
PETER
As promised.
ASSUMPTA
Mmm.
DONAL
We're thirsty, Assumpta. Give us a pint.
ASSUMPTA
If I feed you you'll just expect more. I'll
never get rid of you.
BRENDAN
So, now you don't need customers.
ASSUMPTA
I was supposed to be closed. Niamh
phoned Kevin, did she?
Paraig raises his brows, but doesn't answer her question.
PARAIG
Peter, come make yourself useful.
These people look thirsty.
DONAL
Here, here!
Peter looks to Assumpta, and after a moment she shrugs.
ASSUMPTA
Just you remember whose name is
above that door. Come on.
Peter hurries behind the bar, and Assumpta pulls out a couple of glasses. He pours from one spigot, and she from another. He leans close to her.
PETER
You okay?
ASSUMPTA
We need to talk . Later.
Assumpta hand her pint to Brendan, and Peter hands his to Father Chris, but the bottom of the glass clips the fountain and the beer flies and drenches the priest. For a moment the entire pub goes still.
PETER
There you go, Father. A christening
and only for a quid.
BRENDAN
Some might call that a miracle!
Peter tries to control his laugh, but Assumpta does not. Liam, Donal and Siobhan join her, enjoying the moment of lightness at the priest's expense. Father Chris stiffly stands.
ASSUMPTA
Come here, Father. Let's get you
cleaned up.
FATHER CHRIS
Yes. You'd like that, wouldn't you.
You will not get your claws into me!
For a moment Assumpta is stunned. She exchanges a quizzical look with Peter, and then erupts into laughter again.
SIOBHAN
It was an accident, Father.
PETER
Honestly. I didn't mean –
FATHER CHRIS
(severely)
Lying is a sin!
PETER
And so is vanity. It was an accident. Come on,
there's no harm done. Let me pour you
another pint.
FATHER CHRIS
I've had quite enough from you.
Father Chris stalks out, and laughter erupts again.
DONAL
I'll have a pint over here! But if you don't mind,
Father, I'll have Assumpta serve it to me.
LIAM
He's not a Father anymore.
DONAL
I know, but I don't know what else to call him.
PETER
Call me Peter.
DONAL
(nodding)
That just doesn't seem right, somehow.
ASSUMPTA
Peter.
PETER
(turning to her)
Yes?
Assumpta grabs Peter by the head and plants a firm but quick kiss on his mouth.
ASSUMPTA
(to Donal)
He doesn't belong to the Church anymore.
He's mine. Got it?
Donal nods, too stunned to speak.
His name is Peter.
She turns and looks at Peter, and he is grinning at her.
What?
PETER
There you are. I haven't seen that
smile in months.
ASSUMPTA
(self-consciously)
What smile?
PETER
That one there.
He slips his arms loosely around her, and she leans against him, tucks her head under his chin.
I worried I'd lost you.
ASSUMPTA
Oh, ye of little faith.
Brandon sees them, and smiles.
FADE OUT.
It was just after nine, and Peter was behind the bar, wiping down the taps while stiffling a yawn when he looked up to see Assumpta locking the pub doors.
"It's early yet."
"Everyone who's likely to turn up tonight has come and gone." She looked tired to him as she hugged herself and glanced around the empty pub. "I'm going to have to sell."
"To Brian?"
"He's the only one offering."
Peter nodded, and put down his rag. It was her decision, though he worried one she would someday regret. "It's a lovely night out there. Will you walk with me?"
"Oh, Peter. I'm tired."
"You said we needed to talk."
She glanced at him, as if she was about to say something, but then look away, and then snorted to herself. "Have you heard the polar bear joke?"
"Freezing, are you?"
"Not when I'm with you."
He could tell it was more than she intended to admit by the way she hesitated afterwards. "It's going to be all right, Assumpta. All of it. We'll figure it out."
She shook her head. "You've given up too much for me. You should've stayed in Rome."
"I don't want Rome.
"But it's not that simple, is it?"
"It is now. We've both done the hard part."
Again, she opened her mouth to speak, but then stopped herself, and Peter felt a surge of panic run through him. Earlier, he'd felt that old connection with her, and now he worried she was trying to pull away again.
"Assumpta, what aren't you telling me. You can tell me anything."
She sighed. "Oh, Peter."
"Let me make this easier. If you want to take this slowly, we can do that. If you want to speed things up, I'm okay with that, too. I want to marry you, but I won't push it, at least not now. I want to help you with the pub, but if it makes you uncomfortable, I'll step back. Whatever you want, Assumpta, however you want it. But I won't let you end it with me, and I won't let you hide from me. I want to share my life with you. I'm not going anywhere." He stepped to her, touched the side of her face and smiled. "I love you." He leaned in slowly to give her a chance to step away, but she didn't. "Let me love you. Let me make you as happy as you make me."
Slowly their lips touched in a gentle, lingering kiss.
"I can't…" she whispered. "I can't marry you."
"I completely understand," he whispered back. "But you get to explain to the children why Mummy and Daddy live in separate houses." He nearly kissed her again, but she jerked back from him.
"Children?"
"It was a joke, Assumpta."
"And a bad one. You want children."
"Well, of course. Don't…you don't." She shook her head, and Peter's heart suddenly grew very heavy. "No, of course you don't. That would be too easy, wouldn't it? For us both to want the same thing."
"Does it change everything for you now?" she asked.
"No. But now it makes sense, at least. You don't want to marry me, or have a family with me. Why did you bother with the annulment at all? You're telling me you just want to be friends, aren't you?"
"If you want to leave-"
"Leave? Have you heard a single word I've said?"
"Peter, I won't hold you to any promises you might've made."
"Well, that's very good of you. But you're not going to get rid of me that easily. I love you, and I know you love me. Say it, Assumpta. Tell me you love me."
Her mouth did open for a moment, but nothing came out. Instead, she closed her eyes, turned away, and headed up the stairs.
"And then what did he say?"
Morning light streamed through the kitchen window as Assumpta stood at the workbench in the pub's kitchen butchering a large lamb leg while Niamh sat dumbfounded at the table nursing a cup of tea.
"Nothing," Assumpta said.
"Nothing? You'd just told him that you weren't going to marry him or have his babies, and he told you he still wasn't leaving, and that he loved you and that he knew that you loved him. That deserves some kind of response."
"Oh, yeah? Like what?" she asked.
"Well, how about you love him, for starters."
"He knows how I feel."
"Sure. And I know how Ambrose feels, but it's nice to hear once in a while, you know?"
"I didn't want to tie him to me, Niamh."
"And what does that mean?"
"I can't give him what he wants. He should be free to find it somewhere else."
"So you'd be fine with him marrying some other girl and having children with her?"
Assumpta slammed the meat cleaver on the cutting board and glared at her. Niamh knew every button to push.
"I'm only saying," Niamh continued, "that what's done is done. It's not like it's you or the priesthood for him. He's made that choice. And if it's not to be you, then you're right, it'll be some other woman who will give him what he-"
"No it won't."
"But if you won't-"
"I slept with him."
"Yeah, you've said."
"No, Niamh. I slept with him. Last night. He said he wasn't leaving, and he meant it. He didn't go back to Paraig's last night. He marched up to my flat after me, and we slept together."
For a moment Niamh sat completely stunned. "What? Just like that?"
"Pretty much."
"Did he say anything more?"
"Nope."
"What about afterwards?"
"Nope."
"Huh." A grin grew across Niamh's face. "And? How was it?"
Assumpta picked up the cleaver and cut the knuckle from the rest of the leg. It had been wonderful and exciting and over far too quickly to be satisfying. But in that couple of minutes she'd lost her heart to him all over again. Now, she felt the emotion rise - panic and anger - and she tried to cover it with a hand to her face, but a sob escaped before she was able to swallow it down.
Niamh's brows rose. "Oh, God. It was that bad, was it?"
Assumpta shook her head, and turned her back to try to regain control. She'd cried afterwards in bed, too, but had hidden it better in the dark. Loving Peter was painful and confusing. And now that they'd made love, she knew she'd never be free of him, even if he left again. He would haunt her forever, consume her. Destroy her completely.
Niamh stood, and hurried to stand in front of her. She held her at arm's length while Assumpta quickly wiped tears away. "It'll be all right," Niamh told her.
"You don't get it, do you? It's a mortal sin. Sex before marriage."
"But you don't believe in that."
"He does, Niamh. He committed a mortal sin for me."
"Isn't that what you want? What better proof could you have that he's not leaving?"
Assumpta looked into her eyes as she realized what Niamh was saying. "He's not leaving." A spark of hope ignited inside her, and she moaned at the injustice of it. "Don't make this even worse, Niamh."
"Worse? He loves you. And, more than his immortal soul, it seems."
"He loved me before, too."
"He chose you, Assumpta. And last night…Assumpta?"
The room was suddenly too small, too thick, to warm, and then her head felt as if it might float up and off her neck. Her heart hammered in her chest, and she reached out, and Niamh grabbed her arms.
"Assumpta, sit down. Quickly. Now breathe. That's right. I'll get your tablet."
"No tablet," Assumpta said from the chair. She braced herself against the table, and the room once again righted itself. "I just got a little dizzy."
"I should phone Doc Ryan."
"I said I'm fine," Assumpta snapped. Her heart slowed. She took a deep breath.
Niamh sat beside her. "You took your medication last night, didn't you?"
"Mm," Assumpta said. "I might've forgotten. But really, I'm okay now."
"Have you eaten?" When Assumpta hesitated, Niamh went to the refrigerator.
"No, no, Niamh. You're supposed to be off your feet. Ambrose would kill me if he knew you were here at all."
"Ambrose doesn't dictate which friends I visit when he's away working," Niamh told her. "And, anyway, I want a sandwich, too." She made a show of pulling out the cheese and ham and lettuce, and then arranging them on a cutting board with bread and butter. "So, then? What are you going to do? You're not going to marry him, or have babies with him, so what's it to be? Are you going to sell the pub? Becasue if you sell it to my father I may never forgive you. He'll have table cloths and wine in here before the deed is even signed."
"I don't know."
"You don't know?"
"I love him, Niamh."
"Peter? Or my father?"
"Mortal sin, Niamh."
"Yeah. I know."