Niamh was on day nine of her mandatory bed rest and she was starting to feel like she was losing her mind. Everyone always says that your first pregnancy is always the worst, but she had dismissed that old wive's tale long ago. It had been relatively easy carrying Ciaren, minus the bouts of morning sickness and desperate hunger, but this baby was really being a difficult bugger. As she lay on top of the bed covers she longed for the easy days where her primary pregnancy complaint was wanting a roast dinner for breakfast.
She heard the front door latch click and Ambrose call "I'm home" from the bottom of the stairs, "but can't stop got'ta go see the Superintendent but wanted to change me socks". Niamh rolled her eyes and tried to remind herself what had attracted her to Ambrose in the first place, as she let out a frustrated sigh she smiled to herself. She knew it was his fumbling ways, silly smile and good heart.
She heard his footsteps as he ran up the stairs and came over to her. He placed a tender kiss on her forehead and swollen stomach, wished them both well and darted off as quickly as he entered.
Although she missed Ciaran, she was glad that Imelda was looking after him in Dublin at the moment. She didn't have the energy to be entertaining a two year old, and Michael had said she need to avoid "any activity likely to cause your blood pressure to rise". 'Fat chance of that' she scoffed as she looked at the piles of magazines, wordsearches and books laying on the opposite side of the bed, 'nothing interesting ever happens around here'.
*
"What's got you in such a good mood" chirped Brendon as he took a long sip of his lunchtime pint while eyening Assumpta sucpisiously.
The landlady shrugged her shoulders, "aren't people allowed to be in a good mood Brendon?" she said as she bent down to pick up the bar mats she'd knocked on the floor while cleaning
"But you aren't people now, are you Assumpta?" he said smiling, but his attempt at jovility was met with a dirty look and her moving to the other end of the bar to help some confused tourists.
*
Not many people had bothered to come and see Niamh during her nine days of confinement and she was beginning to wonder if anyone had even noticed she'd not been around. Sure, if she'd still been pulling pints at the pub they would've noticed, but Ambrose had put a stop to that a couple of months ago when she'd started bleeding.
She was annoyed that Assumpta, her supposid best friend, hadn't bothered to visit. She knew that the publican would be busy now she wasn't picking up any shifts, but she could still find, or make, time to pop in on her. Just as she began to feel her anger boiling the doorbell went and she slowly waddled down the stairs; she decided that even if it was the postman she'd make idle chit-chat because she was bored of only speaking to her husband, dad, mother-in-law and doctor.
When Niamh opened the door she was greeted by Orla carrying a VHS of the English tv series 'Pride and Prejudice' in one hand and a large bar of chocolate in the other.
Niamh gave her friend a broad smile as he led her to the livingroom. For the next few hours the women chatted idly until the infamous scene of Colin Firth emerging from the lake graced their screens. Both women sat there like two lust-driven teenagers, eyes glued to the screens,
"Dr Ryan said I need to keep my blood pressure down" she said turning to her friend, "that's not going to have helped" as she gestured to the screen grinning.
After their giggles and laughter had sunsided Orla went to the kitchen to make the pair a cup of tea. She had been pondering how to broach the subject of Assumpta Fitzgerlad's relationship with Father Clifford with for over a day, but she was struggling with what to say. As she walked back towards the livingroom it dawned on her: Ciaran. Ciaran's middle name is Peter.
"So...how's Ciaran doing?" she asked as she reentered the room
"Fine really. Imelda is loving having him, but I just wish that there were more people around to babysit here ya'know? It's nice she's looking after him so I can rest, but I miss his little face".
"Ah. As I said before, I'm always happy to babysit" she said while considering her next move, "who'd else normally help out?"
"Da and Assumpta mainly. Father Peter used to, hence Ciaran's name, but obviously..." her response trailed off with a shrug.
Orla furrowed her brow, "so what happened with Father Peter then? From what I've heard he was well-liked, except by Father Mac and Kathleen, and I don't think they like many people, so why'd he leave?", Niamh glanced at her with a slight air of sucpision, so she quickly added "other than because I was destined to come here to meet you so we could be friends".
Niamh looked over at Orla considering whether to answer with the known facts or her own speculations. "Personal crisis" she replied.
*
Orla had lost track of time while she was at Niamh's and was now running late for work. As she entered the bar she was expecting an icy glare from her boss, but instead she was met with a warm smile and a small cheer from Brendon, Paidrig and Michael.
"Please say you've come to save us from her sickening mood", quipped Brendon.
"Yeah, she's going to give me nightmares" added Paidrig
"I can't win" Assumpta huffed in response, "I tell you to bog off and you say 'payin customers Assumpta' and when I'm nice to you I get told I'm sickening and going to give ya nightmares" she said as she threw a bar towel over her shoulder.
Orla looked at the three men in the corner and rolled her eyes "nice to know I'm appreciated anyhow".
"Orla a word" came from the otherside of the bar,
"ooooooo, she's in trouble now" Brendon said as Orla duitifully met her employer out of earshot of the patrons.
Assumpta lowered her voice, "I need a favour - I'm planning on going away for a few days, for a break, can you look after the bar for me? I'll give you cash-in-hand for the extra hours, as long as you don't tell Niamh or Ambrose"
Orla felt like squealing at the prospect that the publican could possibly be having a surreptitious meeting with the former curate. She loved a good scandal.
*
Peter had spent most the morning catching up on paperwork, only taking the occasional break to stretch his legs. Although he had only been working as a social worker for just over a year he had seen a steady increase in his caseload and (unofficial) working hours while his paycheck remained unchanged. This often meant he had to use any spare time he had accured while in the office to keep his paperwork up-to-date, otherwise he risked facing a reprimand.
He had finally succumbed to his need for caffeine and a biscuit. There were already a couple of his colleagues having a natter in the kitchenette when he made his way over to the kettle. Ever polite, Peter offered to make them a hot drink, but both declined and one made a quick exit to her desk. "Marvellous", he muttered to himself as he poured the boiling water over the instant coffee granules, "I'm now the subject of office gossip".
It was midday when Peter's boss had requested his presence in her office. He had solemly followed her, the atmosphere made even more tense by several colleagues dipping their heads as though he was in a funeral procession. He gingerly sat down and waited.
"Peter, as you may be aware the public sector is still facing significant cuts to our budgets, regardless of the recent change of government", he nodded, "and you may also be aware that this is hitting civil servants particularly hard", he nodded again bracing himself for the bad news, "well, you should count yourself lucky, in these times as well, that your hard work has been noted and we are offering you the opportunity to become a senior social worker within this department".
Peter sat there stunned,
"Take a week to think about it, but I'll need a decision by Monday", she finished and begun shuffling the papers on her desk as an indicator that he needed to leave.
Just as he got to the door he said,
"oh, I'm not in Monday - holiday",
"Fine, Tuesday then. Close the door behind you".
*
By the time he had left his senior's office it was almost lunchtime. His colleagues had all scarpered slightly early, probably assuming he'd been sacked and would want some privacy, so he knew if he was quick he might catch Charlotte before she disappeared somewhere for lunch.
Peter hurried up the stairwell to find he had arrived just in time to see people starting to file out of the room. He waited for Charlotte with eager anticipation, noticing that almost everyone had left the office by now, except a few die-hards who needed to work through their lunch break. He was just about to enter the office.to look for her when she stepped through the door chatting with two other women. He quickly grabbed her arm and pulled her aside.
"We're going to lunch to celebrate - Ive been offered a promotion" he grinned and leaned forward to give her a kiss, but instead of sharing in his joy she took a step back and with narrowed eyes said "Not now Peter" before hurrying off after her friends.
Peter leaned back against the wall and closed his eyes. For a blissfull few minutes he had forgotten about his current predicament and the confusing situation he had found himself in. When he had been offered the promotion the first person he wanted to tell was Charlotte, but was that down to natural instinct or conditioning?
"God help me" he muttered under his breath.
*
A/N: Just a quick one - updates *may* slow down from tomorrow. Hubby goes back to work this weekend so I'll be back looking after our toddler on my own.
On the plus side, origionally there was more to this chapter, but on editing this was a better place to leave it, so about a third of chapter 8 is done