The next day dawned with clouds in the sky, and a fierce wind brewing. Father Mac and Brian stepped out of Brian's house, a glass of beer in each of their hands.

"One day of the year, the ants all come up out of the ground," said Brian. "Did you ever notice that?"

"No…" Father Mac looked where Brian was pointing.

"Hundreds of them. And always on one particular day."

...

"But what's she going to do?" asked Peter, following his wife from the kitchen into the bar.

Assumpta began polishing the beer taps. "I don't know. She keeps saying she doesn't know either, but that's more of a case of she doesn't know what she should do rather than she doesn't know what she wants to do."

"Well what did she say last night?"

Assumpta stopped polishing and turned her head to look at him. "She said she was gearing herself up for it."

"Gearing up for what?"

"I don't wanna…break any confidences."

...

The sheep dog was yapping strangely, bounding around the yard in circles.

"Trixie!" called Eamonn. "Will ya get after these sheep!"

"In you come. Go on!" said Danny, shutting the sheep into the barn.

"What have you been feedin' her?" asked Eamonn.

Danny looked at the spinning dog. "Just the usual."

...

"What have you been saying to her, though? Did you tell her to talk to Ambrose about how she feels?"

"Yes! I may not have studied psychology, but I am capable of giving good advice to my friend, Peter! That particular bit didn't help, though."

"What do you mean?"

"It's bad, OK, I've told you it's bad, but please stop asking me about it because I don't want to break any confidences. I've asked her if she wants to talk to you, and she said no."

Peter looked a little affronted. Niamh used to talk to him. "Well, what about Ambrose, then? Am I allowed to talk to him?"

"Yes, of course you're allowed to, I'm not disallowing you to do anything – Niamh said she doesn't want to talk to you about it because she doesn't feel comfortable, but that's not personal, it's nothing against you, it's just that it's a very serious thing and she doesn't want to talk to anyone else about it!"

"How serious?"

"I don't think there's anything you can do, Peter!"

"Well not if she won't let me talk to her!"

"Talk to Ambrose, then!"

"I will. I'll talk to him this afternoon. I'd go over there now but I promised Brendan I'd help with the school football practise."

"Good! Do that. You might wanna give Ambrose some warning, to be honest - I don't think he has a clue."

Peter's eyes widened. "Warning about what?"

...

Niamh was storming about the house, determinedly doing nothing in particular. Ambrose came to the kitchen door and stared at her.

"Niamh! Are you thinking of talking to me any time soon?"

Niamh turned on the stairs, throwing up her arms. "I'm talking to you now."

"You're speaking, I'm speaking – we're not talking to each other!"

Niamh put her hands on her hips and rolled her eyes. "Ambrose."

"There! That's what I mean – the very thought of talking to me makes your heart sink."

"It doesn't."

"I can see it in your face!"

"It's just not the moment!"

"Not the moment." He looked at her, desperately willing for some hint, some explanation.

"Will you watch Kieran?"

"Where are you going?"

"Nowhere!" Her temper cracked as she started back up the stairs. "Nowhere!" She opened the front door and closed it behind her.

...

Father Mac gazed lazily around the garden. Brian looked at his hands. Finally, he got up the courage to say it. "I think there's something between Niamh and Sean Dillon."

Father Mac looked at him, interested, but not necessarily surprised. "What kind of something?"

"I don't know. Just a feeling I have."

Father Mac spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully and then shooting them off as strong as darts. "Well, he is a dark horse. That's always appealing. The outsider has great allure. Especially one who inspires strong feelings in others."

"Are you saying it's my fault for disliking him?"

"No, not at all. After all, it wasn't you who started the feud, was it?"

"Certainly not."

"Even if it is you who's perpetuating it."

Brian looked at the old priest, frowning.

Father Mac turned away and looked idly at the sky. "We'll have rain later."

...

"Oh, no, Ryan, don't kick it that hard!" called Brendan exasperatedly. "If you kick it that hard it should be going towards the goal, not sailing over the boundary line!"

Peter blew the whistle. "Always watch who you're passing it to, boys!" he called. "Be aware of where your team mates are at all times!"

The boys placed the ball on the boundary line and one from the team opposing Ryan's took the free kick.

"Yes! That's good dribbling, Darren, well done!" called Peter.

Brendan winced in anticipation. "Oh, he's going to trip over the ball again…"

Peter looked back at him. "Why are you being so negative?"

"I wish Niamh was here, she could get them to play football properly! Could you make her stop working so much at the pub, please, so she can help me instead?"

Darren scored, and Peter grinned at Brendan. "You've got me now!"

Fat drops of rain began to fall from the sky. They got faster very quickly. Brendan grabbed Peter's whistle and blew it hard. "Alright, inside, everyone! Quickly now!"

...

Sean and Niamh stood under an old stone bridge, sheltering from the rain, which had now become a downpour.

"Irish summers!" grunted Sean.

"Don't tell me the English ones are any better!"

There was a pause as they both glanced around, peering out at the creek and up at the murky sky, looking anywhere but at each other.

Niamh was braver than Sean. She glanced at him, gritted her teeth and began to talk. "I'm embarrassed about blurting out all my troubles to you the other day – I shouldn't have done that."

"It's OK."

She was pretending to look at the creek, but her eyes kept darting back to him. "You said Ambrose was a lucky man to be married to me. You said a lot of nice things about me."

"You're a nice person."

She took a breath, but didn't falter. "I wondered after whether you meant them."

Sean nodded, a shadow of a smile on his face. "I meant them!"

"I mean…Did you say it to cheer me up because I needed cheering up, or because…"

"Or because."

...

"How tall are you, my dear?" said the man with the strange hat and tattered suitcase, which he was resting his arms on, leaning over the bar.

"Err…Five foot nine," said Orla, eyeing him curiously.

"Perfect! Pour yourself a drink, so. And I'll be requiring a room for the night."

"Uh…I'm not sure if the rooms are happening or not yet. Assumpta said we needed to get-"

"I'll be staying with you then, Donal. Just the one night only."

The door blew open, leaves flew past it and the rain pattered down in the howling wind. Ambrose, who'd been quietly nursing a pint at the table by the door, got up to close it. But he paused when he saw Sean's red pick-up van pulling up outside the Garda house and realised that his wife was inside. He didn't know what he was seeing – Sean was leaning across her, he was right over on her side of the car. Were they…?

Ambrose's mouth fell open and his eyes went wide with pain. He watched Niamh climb out of the truck and go into the house. He watched Sean drive away.

"Ambrose, what are you doing?" said Brendan. "Close the door!"

Ambrose stepped through the threshold and closed it behind himself.

He walked slowly across the street, barely noticing the rain. He walked through the door and up the stairs. He banged on the door of the bathroom.

"Niamh!"

He got no reply.

His tone became angry. "What were you doing with Sean Dillon?"

"Talking," said Niamh through the door.

"You won't talk to your husband but you'll go talk to a -"

The door opened and an angry Niamh came out. "To a what? To a what, Ambrose?"

"What were you talking about?"

"Me! Me, Niamh Egan, the woman you're very lucky to be married to!"

"He said that?"

Niamh looked away.

"What cause did he have to say that?"

"I think he thought I asked him."

"What are you doing talking to strangers about us? What does it matter what they think when your husband loves you, and your child!"

"Oh, you always love me. Rain or shine, rich or poor, good or bad, right or wrong - no matter what I do, you love me!"

"Those were my vows!"

"Yeah! And you're just obeying them! You never change! You never move on, you never look at me and think that I might move on!"

...

Standing before the bar in Fitzgerald's, Uncle Minto unfurled his map. "Ladies and gentlemen," he said. "If I might have your attention."

The door opened and Assumpta walked in, holding her jacket up around her ears. "God, it's bloody terrible out there," she said.

"I'd be glad of some hush!" Uncle Minto asserted. "I'm trying to address these people!"

Assumpta looked him up and down. "You're not addressing anybody in my pub without my say so!"

"Point taken."

Assumpta looked at Orla. "Where's Niamh?"

"At home. With Ambrose."

"Right." Assumpta disappeared into the kitchen.

"Now, if we're all quite ready, I'll start, OK?" Uncle Minto stepped in front of the door and unfurled his map again. "Ladies and gentlemen."

The door blew open again, and he quickly knocked it shut.

"Has anyone heard of Ufos?"

...

Niamh burst into the pub less than five minutes after Ambrose had left it. Assumpta looked at her, and jerked her head in the direction of the kitchen. Niamh followed her inside it.

"He knows," said Niamh, after Assumpta had shut the door.

"Who? Ambrose?"

Niamh nodded. "Nothing's even happened yet, and he knows!"

"What did he say?"

"Nothing much. I don't care. It's good that he knows, it's nice to see that he finally gets it, he's finally noticing what I am feeling!"

...

"Thanks, Peter!" said Ryan as he opened the car door and rushed into his house.

Peter bipped the horn and drove back down the main road. He pulled up outside the Garda house, only to find Ambrose charging out of it. Peter got out of the van. "Ambrose?"

Ambrose paused for a moment and looked at him, then strode over to his police car.

"What's happened, Ambrose? Hey, wait!"

His hand on the car door, Ambrose paused again.

"Will you tell me what's going on? Maybe I can help."

Inside the house, Ambrose leaned on the front door and looked Peter in the eye. "Can you help?" His voice was pleading. "You used to help with this."

"I want to help!" said Peter. "But I don't know what's wrong!"

Ambrose went down the stairs and into the kitchen. "So your wife's not talking to you either, then?"

"Well, she told me that's something's up with you and Niamh, but she said that Niamh had told her things in confidence and she couldn't pass them on."

Ambrose's thumbs fidgeted over his clenched fists. "Great."

"What can you tell me?"

Ambrose leaned against the wall and looked straight ahead. "I can tell you…" he said, "that I think my wife is having an affair with Sean Dillon."

"WHAT? Surely not, Ambrose – Niamh wouldn't do that!"

"I saw it just now. He dropped her back here. And before she got out of the car he leaned across her - I couldn't see what they were doing exactly, but…"

"What? You think they were kissing?"

"Yeah, probably. At the very least, she's been confiding some very intimate things to him."

"Oh come on, Ambrose, they can't have been kissing -"

"Don't 'come on' me! I know what I saw! And I know what she's been like for the past…I don't know how long! It feels like at least a year since she last talked to me, I mean really told the truth to me!"

"I know you've been having some problems."

"Oh, you know, do you? You figured that out, did you, in the four days that you've been here!"

"Yeah, and we talked about it, but after you went out to dinner you said it was OK!"

"I thought it was OK! She didn't!"

"She's obviously very troubled. We need to respect that, give her some space -"

"What has Assumpta said to you?"

"Not much. Just that…that whatever it is, it's bad."

"Why haven't you talked to Niamh?"

"I've tried. She won't talk to me."

"Because she's having an affair!" Ambrose began pacing the kitchen, running his fingers through his hair. "That's bad, that's what it is! What did Assumpta say?"

"She can't be having an affair. It's Niamh."

"Niamh's changed since you left, buddy. Niamh's changed since she took over that pub, and had to work day and night, never having time for me and Kieran. She liked it, she didn't want to be around me any more, I didn't fit into her new life! And now she's found someone else who does! And she's not even running the pub any more, so she can be with him all the time!"

"Ambrose, calm down."

"Do you see what's been happening since you went away?" Ambrose yanked the door open and ran up the stairs.

"Ambrose! Ambrose!"

Ambrose was out the front door and onto the street.

"Ambrose, let's think objectively about this!"

He got into his car and turned on the engine and the windscreen wipers. He was soaked already, just from the short walk from the front door.

"Ambrose, wait! Where are you going?"

Ambrose clenched his jaw angrily, let off the handbrake and drove away.

...

Peter burst into Fitzgerald's' kitchen to find Niamh and Assumpta sitting at the table drinking whiskey. "What the hell is going on?" he demanded, looking between them.

Niamh looked up at Peter in fear.

"What, these?" said Assumpta, pointing at the whiskey glasses. "We fancied something stronger than tea."

Peter looked at her in confusion. "No, not that." He looked back at Niamh. "Niamh…You wouldn't have an affair. You wouldn't do that."

There was a pregnant pause.

"No, I wouldn't," said Niamh.

"Oh, thank God." Peter buried his face in his hands. "I knew you wouldn't do that."

"No," she continued, steeling herself. "If I saw that my marriage was beyond repair, I'd just leave. If I fell in love with someone else, I'd leave. I wouldn't go behind Ambrose's back."

Peter moved his hands down his face and stared at Niamh in horror. She held his gaze.

"Niamh," said Assumpta quietly. "Kieran's asleep upstairs. Brian took him up there when Ambrose stormed off after you. Why don't you go and check on him?"

"OK." Niamh slowly stood and walked past Peter to the reception door. He watched her go. She watched her feet, not daring to look at him again.

When she'd closed the door behind her, Peter turned to Assumpta. His eyes were wide, questioning.

"Have a seat," she said.

He sat down across from her, his hands clasped in front of him. She put hers over his and began to speak. "Niamh initially told me that she hasn't connected with Ambrose for months. She doesn't feel close to him anymore. She's grown, she's changed…Grown up, I think. He's stayed the same. He still expects her to do the same things for her, and to be the same. He didn't even seem to notice that there was anything wrong.

"She also mentioned Sean then, but I thought he was just the grass on the other side of the fence. She was dissatisfied with Ambrose so she was looking at him. I didn't think it was serious. And she seemed to want to reconnect with Ambrose, so I said we could take Kieran and we set up that date. But did you see how that went? Did you see how they…reacted the next day?"

Peter's gaze was intent, but he said nothing.

"Ambrose…was grinning like a Cheshire cat, and Niamh…Niamh looked like her grandma had just died. They'd grown so far apart that they reacted to their being together, to their shared night, in completely opposite ways. Neither of them could understand the reaction of the other. And Ambrose didn't even notice that Niamh was upset, not until she started giving him the cold shoulder again!"

"OK," said Peter. "So one night wasn't enough. But they can still work on this, they can go to counselling!"

"It's more complicated than that."

"How?"

Assumpta paused. "What have you heard about Sean Dillon?"

"Just what Ambrose told me just now! He said he saw Niamh in his car, and Sean leaned over, maybe to kiss her, but Ambrose said he couldn't be sure and I didn't believe him."

"When was this?"

"This evening, maybe an hour ago?"

"Sean gave her a lift back here. But I haven't heard anything about that – she didn't kiss him, she would've told me. She's telling the truth – she's not having an affair."

"Where was he giving her a lift back from?"

"His place. They talked. They've talked before, too. They haven't done anything else, but Niamh is in love with him and she thinks he feels the same."

Peter's brow furrowed, and his eyes grimaced in confusion. "No way."

...

Sean ran from the barn to the house, the rain streaming over his jacket, only to find that his daughter was running behind him.

"Dad!"

"Emma, where have you been?"

"Trixie's gone missing!"

"What?"

"Trixie, Eamonn's dog, she's gone missing!"

"Well what do you want me to do about it, let's get inside!"

They ran into the house. The wind whistled through the open door, and several leaves flew in after them as Emma quickly slammed the door shut behind her. Her hand went to the light switch, but it did nothing. "What happened to the lights?"

"They fused."

"Are you going to fix it?"

"Well that's what I'm trying to do!"

"You picked a great day to paint my sign!" Grabbing her lantern, Emma stormed up the stairs.

"Emma, until you've got something sensible to say, will you just shut up!"

Reaching the stop of the stairs, she yelled back down at him, "I'm glad I'm leaving!"

"I'm glad you're leaving!"

"Well not as glad as I am!"

Their world changed in an instant. There was a creak and then a deafening sound of breaking glass, and Sean looked behind himself to see a tree branch plunging into his kitchen. He looked around in horror as more windows broke and the door flew open. "Emma!" he screamed, charging up the stairs as fast as he could.

"Dad! Help, Dad!"

At the top of the stairs, Sean found that the corridor was filled with tree branches, and his daughter was screaming from her room on the other side. "Emma!" he screamed as he stumbled over the branches.

"Dad! Help!"

"Emma!" He charged into her room to find her sitting limply by the window.

"What's happening?" she whimpered.

Sean grabbed Emma's shoulders. "Are you hurt?"

"What's happening?"

He shook her, and his volume rose. "Are you hurt?"

"No, I don't think so."

Relieved, Sean hugged his daughter to him and she cried into his shoulder.