"So what time do you wanna start tomorrow, new boy?" asked Assumpta, as they sat down to dinner after an extensive workplace tour.
"Whenever you do."
A shadow of worry passed over Assumpta's face as she thought about this, but then she nodded. "OK. Full day's training, that makes sense. 10:30, then."
"OK."
"You better pay attention, though - I'm not gonna say anything twice."
"Yes, boss!" He paused. "Are you OK, Assumpta? You seem...distracted."
"What? Oh, just trying to gauge the mood of the town."
"Ah, yeah. How great was today? All those people who came to the pub with me."
"Do they know why you left, though?"
"Well..."
Assumpta shook herself. "No point worrying now. Whatever will happen will happen. Today was good overall, though, yeah."
But the people who were good were generally the people who didn't know, she thought. And - OH!
"Oh! Argh...dammit."
"What?"
"Now that you've done your bit, I have to deal with Leo, don't I?"
"Oh. Yeah, better sooner than later, I guess."
"I hope he hasn't gone back to London. If he's in Dublin I'll go up and see him this week sometime."
"I'll come with you."
"You will not! Are you insane?"
"Niamh, then. Moral support."
Assumpta scoffed. "I'm fine on my own, thanks."
"Well I just thought..."
"That it'll be the most difficult conversation I'll ever have to have? Yeah, it will, but it's something I have to do on my own."
"Sorry."
"Is that a sympathy sorry or an apology sorry? Cos it wasn't your fault."
Peter nodded nervously.
"Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sorry," she said, in a much gentler voice. "I'm being all stressed out and weird, aren't I?"
"You're not weird!" He got up and put her arm around her.
"Come sit on the couch," she said.
With her head on his shoulder and her body leaning back into his, she realised that it was easier to talk to him if she didn't have to look at him. So she decided to say it. "Are you scared?"
He thought for a second. "About what, exactly?"
"Anything."
He paused. "I'm scared about a lot of things."
"Me too."
He kissed her hair. "Wanna tell me about them?"
She took a deep breath. "I'm scared my friends will desert me, I'm scared my customers will desert me and the pub will go bankrupt, I'm scared the whole town will hate me, I'm scared you'll be hurt irrevocably, I'm scared we'll have to leave town, but most of all... I've never been in a serious relationship before. I mean - ha ha - says the married woman, whoops - I mean, I've never been in a relationship I cared this much about before. I don't have a clue what I'm doing, and I'm scared that I'll stuff it up. Or that those things I said just now will stuff it up. Or that something else entirely will stuff it up."
"Huh. Damn, here I was thinking you knew what you were doing!"
"What? You think I -!"
"Shh, shh, it's OK." He kissed her temple and began to stroke her hair. "Well, I don't approve of the way you ranked your fears. I think the one you ranked first should be ranked last."
"Oh yeah?"
"Yeah." His voice became so gentle it was hardly above a whisper. "I told you I'll do anything to be with you, Assumpta. I'd go through anything for you, I'll do anything for you, and I will not let you go. So no matter what else happens, that is for certain. You don't have to worry about that. I think you're being a bit pessimistic about the people of Ballyk, though - I think they'll get over it just fine. I am scared about how they'll react inititally, yes I am, but there's not point worrying about it before it happens - we've done the smart thing, we're being as discreet as we can, and - hey, have you forgotten what you said to me yesterday? It was very good advice, perhaps I'd better say the same to you."
"Err...what -"
"Assumpta, turn around and look at me. OK." He cupped her face in his right hand. "Do you regret your decision?"
"Oh, that piece of advice!"
"Answer the question."
"Hey, I'm pretty sure when I asked you that I was sitting at least two metres away from you and not trying to sway or confuse you with physical contact!" It was a good job she was giggling, or he might have been concerned.
"OK." He made to get up, but she grabbed his arm.
"No no, I didn't say go!"
"Are you flirting with me again? Because sometimes I get confused -"
"Ah, you get confused, you poor innocent boy..." She wrapped her arms around his neck and started to kiss him very softly.
"Hang on, you haven't answered my question yet!"
"Oh, it's your question now, is it?"
"Don't flirt with me when I'm being serious!"
She kissed him, passionately this time, hungrily, for five seconds, and then pulled away. She stroked the side of his face and looked into his eyes. "No. No, I don't regret my decision. Not one bit. So, by my own logic, I shouldn't worry - although I don't remember telling you not to worry; I seem to remember telling you to just get over it."
"'Suck it up and face the music' were your words, I think."
Assumpta took a deep breath. "OK. Anyway, no matter what happens, it's worth it."
Nodding, he leaned in and kissed her, slowly at first but rapidly escalating. I'm free, he kept thinking. I'm free to be with the most wonderful woman who ever lived. He was kissing her mouth, her face, her neck, her shoulder, and he could hear her breath quicken as his heart did the same, and then his lips found hers again and they were kissing hungrily, desperately, stronger than when she had kissed him at the lake, and it went on and on, and then his lips were on her neck again and he listened to her breathing, finding the places where it quickened the most, until she spoke his name.
Wow, Assumpta's saying my name, thought Peter, and he kissed her behind her ear, and along her jawline, and, like she had once before, she had two choices and, once again, she made the right one, though every sense in her body was screaming for the opposite choice.
"Stop," she gasped.
He jerked backwards. "What? Are you OK? Too much?"
She shook her head slowly. "Haha, no. Too little."
Her body language was still saying the exact opposite of "stop.". She was lying back on the couch with her eyes closed. "You know, Peter," she sighed, opening her eyes and pointing at him. "Priests shouldn't know how to kiss like that."
"Did I just...?"
"What?"
"Nothing."
"You know that promise I made to you?"
"What promise?"
"That I wouldn't jump you."
"Oh...yeah?"
"Well, it's gonna be hard for me to stick to that if you turn me on."
"Did I just...?"
"Yes. You did."
"I've never done that before... How exactly?"
"Are you serious?"
"No, I mean - I wasn't thinking of that, I just wanted to kiss you all over because I love you."
She looked at him in astonishment. "Seriously?
"Yeah."
...
The next morning, Peter was helping Assumpta cook the day's food and learning everything one could ever need to know about it when they heard the pub door open. Assumpta kept stirring the soup while Peter went to see who it was.
"Hello, Padraig, how are you?" she heard him say, and she dropped the spoon into the soup with a clatter.
"Just wondering if I could have a word with..." Padraig's voice faded out as Assumpta appeared at the kitchen door.
"I just dropped the spoon in!" she said laughingly to Peter, and left him to deal with it as she closed the door behind herself. She moved quickly to the fireplace, and Padraig followed. She glared at him, waiting for him to speak.
"I just came to say I'm sorry, Assumpta."
She raised one eyebrow.
"What happened was, Siobhan was talking about money, and all of a sudden I thought of something and I wanted to tell you right away, like, you know when you just think of something and it seems really important... Well, in hindsight, it wasn't, and I should have known better than to jump in and try and tell you what to do... So, I'm sorry."
He ended with a clear full-stop, so Assumpta, her gaze and stance still unchanging, asked him, "What did you want to tell me?"
"Oh, it really doesn't matter now, I realised it's...no..."
"What did Siobhan say before I came over?"
"She's worried about money, that's all - that happens when a child comes into the equation; all of a sudden, you're -"
"And those of us who don't have children don't need to worry about money, is that it?"
"Oh - err.. no -"
"I have thought about it, Padraig. I'm not stupid. But I do want to know what it was you 'thought of' because you thought of it immediately after Siobhan mentioned the pub."
"You know, I don't even remember -"
"You're not going to get back into my good books if you lie to me, Padraig!"
Padraig looked at his feet. "Brendan told me not to say."
"Brendan? And who's Brendan - my father?"
"Well it's really not as important as I thought it was at the time."
Assumpta tapped her foot and continued to glare at him.
"I remembered that when... when Fenoula and I... separated... the profits of the garage went down. But when I thought about it last night I realised that that was completely different to your situation -"
"How much?"
"What?"
"By how much did your profits go down?"
"Well, it varied, and it all went back to normal after about six weeks - it was worst in the first couple of weeks, and then it slowly rose again."
"How much?"
"Between twenty and... fifty percent."
"FIFTY?"
"That was just in the worst period, as I said, the first couple of weeks."
Assumpta looked like she'd been slapped.
"But a garage is easy to boycott because people can just fill their cars up in Cilldargan - they go there in their cars anyway, for shopping and whatnot, so they can fill up there, leave the car with the mechanic while they shop if they want to avoid me, but with a pub you can't do that - you can't go to Cilldargan for your evening pint or three because how are you gonna get home afterwards? It's completely different for a pub, this is a place of gathering, people need this place. Anyway, I hear you did a roaring trade yesterday, so don't worry. Worry never achieves anything anyway."
Assumpta said nothing.
Padraig smiled. "If it helps, I'll drink as much as possible for the next two weeks!"
"Good. Thanks." She turned and swept back into the kitchen.
"You've finished the lasagne already!" Padraig heard her exclaim as the door closed. "What a wonderful little worker you are!"
...
"Oh, hello Liam, hello Donal, what can I get you?" said Peter in his best customer service voice.
"Umm," said Liam.
Both remained in the doorway, rooted to the spot.
"In you come, boys," said Assumpta.
"I'm sorry I missed church yesterday, Father," stammered Donal.
"Oh... do you know what happened yesterday?" asked Peter.
"Y-yes."
"Oh yeah, we heard that."
"Yeah."
"You shouldn't call him Father anymore, Donal," muttered Liam out of the corner of his mouth.
"Well... what do I call him then?" Donal looked at Liam with a worried expression on his face.
"You can call me either Peter or Barman."
Assumpta raised an eyebrow.
Peter laughed nervously.
Donal looked confused.
"OK, Barman!" said Liam loudly, finally stepping inside and slamming his hand on the bar (Donal jumped). "I'll have a bottle of larger and a sandwich please, and...Donal?"
"Better make that two sandwiches, please."
"Two sandwiches."
"And a pint of lager."
"OK, coming right up!" said Peter. "Err..." He ducked down to find the bottle of Harp and a found a glass for it, then reached for a pint glass, at which point he looked warily at Assumpta, who was standing with one hand on the bar watching him.
"Go ahead," she said. "Lager's easier than stout."
So Peter poured his own usual for the first time ever. "Oh. That's too much head." He winced at Assumpta.
"That's fine, just keep pouring," she said. "Let the excess froth spill over."
"So this is training time, is it?" asked Liam.
"You're his first customers," Assumpta replied.
Having contemplated his completed work, Peter passed the pint over the bar to Donal.
"Thankyou!" said Donal awkwardly, and held out a fiver.
"Right, money!" said Peter, and took Liam's fiver too.
"Yeah, good. The best order to do it in is drinks, money, food," said Assumpta as she followed Peter over to the cash register. She'd already explained how to use it, so once again she just watched him. As he gave the boys their change, Donal said, "That's a good pint, Father. I mean...Barman."
"Really?"
"Yeah, it's not bad."
"Thankyou," grinned Peter. "Err, please sit down, and I will bring your sandwiches out to you shortly."
Assumpta was watching him with a shadow of amusement on her face. "OK, sandwich boy, get in the kitchen!"
She had intended to follow him in there, but at that moment some tourists came in and she had to serve them. By the time she'd finished she rushed into the kitchen to find Peter on his way back out again with two completed plates of sandwiches.
"Is this OK, boss?" he said, grinning.
She looked at the sandwiches closely. All the ingredients seemed to be there and, like Padraig's coffee, they were served perfectly. "Wow, um... yeah!" she said. "Take them out!"
Peter had just put the sandwiches down on Liam and Donal's table when Father Mac came in.
"Ah!" said Peter, straightening up. "Father Mac. Ah...what can I get you?"
"Working as a bus boy, are you?"
"Err, bus boy, barman... recently promoted to sandwich chef..." he gestured towards the sandwiches.
"I see."
Father Mac stepped up to the bar. Peter walked behind it, trying to move as steadily as he could.
"Well I'd like a sandwich myself, actually, but I'd rather it was made by someone who knows what they're doing. Same goes for my pot of tea. Tell your boss."
He turned abruptly and went to sit down.
...
As news spread that the former Father Clifford was now working behind the bar, Fitzgerald's got quite busy with people who wanted to see this for themselves. Assumpta tried not to panic as her carefully laid plan to train a new staff member on a non-busy day fell apart, and she wondered if she should call Niamh in to help cope with the numbers. Amazingly, though, Peter, once he'd got over his initial nervousness, took to his new job like a duck to water and became a productive and efficient staff member.
"Here you are, gentlemen, four pints of ale, and would you like some crisps with that?" he asked a group of young English tourists.
"Yeah, go on," said one of them and Peter moved deftly to the part of the bar where the crisps were kept, asking, "What flavour would you like?" as he went.
Assumpta stood in the corner of the bar with her mouth open; Padraig and Brendan, with their spoons frozen in mid-air over the bowls of soup she'd just brought them, were doing the same.
"That's nine pounds twenty, please."
Peter swept over to the cash register and deftly prepared the men's change in a matter of seconds.
"Here you are, eighty pence change," he said, smiling sweetly. "Thankyou!"
"You wanna have a word to him about the politeness, Assumpta," whispered Padraig. "He's making you look bad."
Niamh walked in as Peter greeted two local workmen with similar friendly politeness. Her gape of surprise quickly turned to a frown. "Assumpta!"
"Oh, whoops, didn't I tell you?"