"What the hell are you doing?" said Peter as he grabbed Assumpta's shoulder and pulled her away from the crowd. His tone was accusatory.

She looked up at him. "Oh, hi, Assumpta, how are you, wanna dance?"

He stopped under a tree and turned to face her, a mixture of anger and disbelief in his eyes. "What are you doing? You're letting this happen?"

"What are you giving me the third degree for?"

"Niamh is looking into the eyes of another man and you're standing there smiling at them!"

"Yes! I am!"

"What?"

"What? Am I not allowed to be happy that my friend has finally found something that she can actually genuinely smile about?"

"No!"

Assumpta's gaze hardened and her voice went dangerously low. "Oh. I'm not allowed, am I?"

"I mean – what about Ambrose?"

"What about him?"

"Did you see his face just now?"

"No, I'm sure he's very upset, but there's nothing I can do about that!"

"Nothing you can do – nothing you can do? Niamh listens to you!"

"Oh, and you want me to tell her to spend her life in misery, do you?"

"She loves him!"

"Who, Ambrose or Sean?"

"Ambrose!"

Assumpta shook her head. "Peter, you're in denial, you need to stop it."

Peter's hands flailed wildly. "All that time you refused to tell me anything, I thought at least you were trying to help!"

"I am trying to help! I'm trying to help Niamh!"

"She's a wife and mother -"

"She can't help what's happened, all she can do is move on!"

"She has duties! Responsibilities!"

That hit a nerve. Assumpta let out a breath very slowly, shaking her head and fixing him with a glare. "I thought you were better than that."

"I thought you were better than that!"

"Oh, that's rich! What do you think I am, a dutiful wife who thinks all marriages should last forever and everyone should always obey the Church?"

"No, but -"

"I can't believe you, I can't even look at you anymore!"

She stormed off through the trees and into the night. Peter stood looking after her, breathing fast. He could feel his world spinning out of control around him. He looked around, and saw Niamh standing at the edge of the crowd, taking a bottle of beer from an old bathtub in the yard. Without a second thought, he strode towards her.

He grabbed her arm, rather more roughly than he intended to. "Niamh, what are you doing?" he demanded.

Taken aback, Niamh opened her mouth to speak but was unable to get anything to come out of it.

"Ambrose saw you and the look on his face, Niamh! You're breaking his heart!"

Niamh looked away. "I don't want to hurt him."

"Then why are you?" Peter put his hands on Niamh's shoulders. "Just think about this, please, think of your vows, think of what you used to feel for him - it's buried somewhere in your heart, you can get it back -"

"Get away from her!" Peter felt a sharp pain as Assumpta's hand collided with his chest. Letting go of Niamh, he jerked backwards, almost losing his balance. Finding his feet again he looked at Assumpta, and found a coldness in her eyes he had never seen before. Her frown was so sharp it cut him, her flashing pupils burning through every principle, every care he'd ever had.

"Get out of here," she hissed.

His eyes wide with fear and pain, he did what she said. He stumbled on the turn, and his shaking legs took him away as fast as they could. When he got to the parked cars, the tears began to fall.

...

Niamh was looking at her friend with wide eyes similar to Peter's. After a few moments, Assumpta turned to her. "Are you OK?"

"Y-yeah…"

"Don't worry about him. Let's enjoy ourselves. Wanna dance?"