They stayed cuddled up like that for a while, slowly heating up, until Assumpta's stomach began to complain.

"I feel like some dinner," she announced.

Peter reached over and grabbed their rucksacks, pulling out some sandwiches, Christmas cake and the remainder of his hot chocolate.

"Fancy making it Irish?" He waved the whisky bottle at her. He wasn't a big whisky drinker but was enjoying the warming feeling and he figured it would taste better in hot chocolate.

"You do realise that it should be Baileys you add to make it Irish?"

"Terribly sorry, the bar's not very well stocked," he retorted.

"Go on then." She watched him add a generous measure to the flask. "Brian would kill us if he knew what we were doing with a twelve year old Laphroaig."

"Desperate times," he said with a grin. "Actually, you're right he would kill us, best we don't tell him."

Assumpta leaned over the side of the bed and rummaged in the box, grabbing the transistor radio. She fiddled with it until she found a station which didn't have too much interference. Christmas music rang out and she turned to Peter and said with a smile, "That's a bit more festive."

They settled back down, Assumpta rearranging herself across his knee again. Peter pulled the sleeping bag up around them and tried to work out what to do with his arms. She made the decision for him by reaching round and pulling his arms, from behind her back, round her waist so she could settle back against him in comfort. Their hands sat together in her lap, not quite holding hands and yet not, not. He didn't move them.

He reflected that in other circumstances this might be his perfect Christmas. If someone had told him a few days ago that he'd be spending Christmas Day in a log cabin (though that was definitely stretching it a bit) with Assumpta Fitzgerald, cuddled up together, half naked in a sleeping bag he'd have accused the person of infiltrating his wildest dreams, and yet here they were.

Slade came on the radio and Assumpta giggled. Peter sat entranced listening to her and feeling the shaking of her body against his. Giggling was not a sound you usually associated with Assumpta and he fell a little bit more in love with her if that was possible.

"I can just imagine you rocking round your bedroom to this when you were eight, thinking you were cool."

"I was cool," he said indignantly, trying to compose himself.

She snorted, "You couldn't have been, bet you were cute though."

"Better believe it. I broke hearts at the cub scout Christmas disco."

"Yeah, yeah, yeah."

"Anyway it's still better than Xanadu. What's that song even about?"

"A place where nobody dared to go, the love that we came to know, they call it Xanadu," she sang softly.

Peter gulped involuntarily.

"You're right it is a terrible song, this is better," she said hastily.

Peter wondered for a moment if she'd also attributed the awful lyrics to their situation.

The DJ broke the silence by talking over the end of the song and they both listened to him prattle on. Peter forced a chuckle at a couple of the jokes, anything to cover the awkwardness. The next song started playing and Peter groaned as he recognised the intro to a slow, romantic song. The last thing his mind needed was any romance brought to the, already fraught, situation.

"Doesn't exactly scream Merry Christmas does it?" He remarked as Joni Mitchell started singing River.

"Not like Noddy Holder, no," Assumpta quipped. There was a beat of silence. "I love Joni Mitchell, in a depressing sort of way."

"Yeah, bit more grown up than Xanadu," he said softly and couldn't resist brushing some of her hair away that had been tickling his chin.

"Yeah," her voice sounded strained.

They lapsed into silence, listening to the song. Then Assumpta turned to him, "Maybe we should," her voice trailed off as he gazed at her. Her eyes slipped down to his lips and Peter could have sworn she was about to kiss him.

"Maybe we should?" He murmured.

She raised her eyes back up to meet his and licked her lips slightly. "We should..."

Peter told his guilt to take a hike and inclined his head towards hers. He thought she was about to close the gap and then...

and then the song finished and the jolly sounds of Wizard singing I Wish It Could Be Christmas Everyday emanated from the radio. It was like a bucket of cold water in the face. Peter turned away so quickly he nearly gave himself whiplash. Assumpta immediately busied herself eating the Christmas cake. He tried to get his breathing under control, it was so reminiscent of the play it was almost painful.

"We should finish this and try to get some sleep," she said between mouthfuls.

"Finish the cake?" he cleared his throat, "right, good idea."

It wasn't his imagination he was sure, they'd nearly kissed. A wave of guilt washed over him as he thought about his vows. Then he thought about the ache in the pit of his stomach at the missed opportunity and another wave of guilt swept in.

"I need to em, use the facilities," he pointed ruefully outside.

"Oh right of course." With much shuffling he managed to extricate himself from the sleeping bag, pulled on his soaking wet trousers and jacket and heaved the door open to get outside. The cold air hit him like a blast of reality and he leaned against the outside of the hut both shivering and gulping it down. This was the welcome equivalent of a cold shower after the events that had just transpired. He closed his eyes, clenched his fists and muttered "Pull it together!" fiercely at himself.


Assumpta burrowed down into the sleeping bag as a blast of cold air swept in when Peter left. She pulled the bag over her head and groaned. What had nearly happened there, had she really been about to kiss him. More importantly had he been about to kiss her?

"Bloody Wizard," she griped to herself. Mind you, the DJ was now playing Frosty the Snowman and as much of a passion killer as Wizard had been, she really couldn't imagine snogging to The Jackson 5. She snorted, what was she doing thinking about what song was best background music while she snogged the priest? He was a priest, she reminded herself and even if he gave in to a momentary lapse the guilt he'd feel later would be insurmountable.

Peter came back in, slamming the door behind him and bringing in a small avalanche of snow. He was shivering and looked miserable.

"God get that wet stuff off and get back in," she cried with concern, only realising after that it might sound like she was trying to get him naked and drag him back into bed. She blushed furiously.

He didn't seem to notice though and after pulling off his wet outer layers he clambered back in and they both tried to get comfy again. It seemed to Assumpta that the ease of physical closeness they'd had earlier had disappeared. Peter sat awkwardly behind her, not wrapping his arms round her like he had before. The music changed again and The Pogues Christmas classic began playing.

"This song is really the best Christmas song ever," she said softly.

"Yup a song about an arguing couple that mentions the drunk tank, that really sums up the spirit of Christmas."

"Oh come on, who doesn't like this?"

"Okay," he said begrudgingly, "it is good." The beat of the song changed and before they knew it they were both singing along.

She laughed, "See you can't help but sing along."

She felt Peter relax a bit as they bantered about the lyrics, at some point his arms found their way around her waist again.

"We should try and get some sleep," he said and she nodded.

With a bit of shuffling and a lot of embarrassment they both managed to lie down. They discovered they didn't fit in any other way except lying on their sides. Assumpta determinedly tried not to think about the word 'spooning'.

She lay facing the door with Peter pressed up against her. She could feel that, again, he wasn't sure what to do with his arms so she reached round and pulled his round her waist like she'd done earlier.

"Night Peter," she whispered.

"Night Assumpta, and Merry Christmas."


Sometime later Assumpta lay there thinking about that old romantic notion that you sleep amazingly well when you're finally with the person you love. Well they were wrong, she couldn't sleep a wink. Her whole body was hyperaware of how close Peter was. She could feel his breath tickling the top of her head, the weight of his arm felt comfortable round her middle and his knees seemed to fit perfectly into the crook of hers.

She kept trying to relax and fall asleep but the butterflies in her stomach refused to settle and her heart was doing at least a hundred beats a minute. There was also a large part of her that didn't want to fall asleep. This would be her one night with this wonderful man and she wanted to commit every last detail to memory.

At some point during the night Assumpta realised she needed the loo. She eyed up the door, not looking forward to having to leave the warmth of the sleeping bag, and Peter's warm body, put wet clothes on and go outside. She glanced round, Peter seemed to be asleep so she wriggled out as carefully as she could. It was freezing outside of the sleeping bag and she was even more grateful that there had only been one. She suspected it was their combined body heat that was stopping them both from being at serious risk of hypothermia.

When she came back Peter seemed to have remained asleep and she tried to shimmy back into the sleeping bag as gently as she could. As she settled herself Peter moaned softly behind her and mumbled sleepily, "You're freezing," before wrapping his arms around her, pulling her close and gently trapping her feet between his legs to heat them up. Then he sighed contentedly and kissed the top of her head.

Assumpta lay frozen unsure what to do. Part of her brain was screaming to stay perfectly still and enjoy this moment; the other part was telling her that Peter was clearly asleep and didn't know what he was doing and that he'd regret it and be consummed with guilt in the morning. She lay there warring with herself for several moments. Eventually she settled on a compromise, she didn't move from his embrace but instead softly spoke his name. She could sense him gradually coming to and her heart sank as he mumbled, "sorry," and withdrew his arms.

They both lay there in an uncomfortable silence; she could tell he was trying not to touch her, a hard feat when two people were sharing one sleeping bag. Finally Assumpta sought to break the tension. "Did you think I was someone else?" She tried to keep her voice light and jokey but it came out sounding strained. Peter didn't reply and she was about to say something else to lighten the mood when he said, "No I didn't think you were anyone else. Maybe I thought I was someone else for a moment."

Assumpta's heart was hammering and with some difficulty she managed to turn round to face him.

He wouldn't make eye contact with her but instead kept staring at a fixed point in the distance over her head.

"Peter?" Her voice sounded shaky.

"Assumpta don't please."

He couldn't believe he'd let his guard down. He'd been wrapped in a warm cocoon of sleep and contentment when she got back into the sleeping bag and it had seemed the most natural thing in the world to gather her in his arms. Now he'd ruined everything, what must she think of him? If he could just avoid her eyes he'd make it through this ordeal. And then he looked at her, and he was lost.

"It would be nice if we could both be different people, just for a moment," she whispered.

He gazed at her lips and suddenly he could barely remember his own name let alone why this was a bad idea. And then, without even being aware of it happening, his lips brushed hers.