He went in through the accommodation entrance.
"Who's the lucky lady?" Liam's question nearly backed him into the door.
"Ah," Peter tried to smile, "Can we save that one till I've had a drink, do you think?"
"Assumpta! Pour the man a pint, on me."
She sucked in a breath through her teeth and did just that.
Peter stayed away from the bar but, reluctant to seat himself somewhere and get trapped in twenty questions, he was soon shepherded to Brendan's end of the room.
"So what happens now?" Siobhan started easy.
"Paperwork," Peter sipped his beer, "and patience."
"What'll you do for a living?" Padraig went next.
Peter shrugged, "In the meantime I'm available at a very reasonable rate for just about anything."
"That right." Siobhan sized him up and he nearly choked on his drink, getting a laugh from the lot of them.
"No more confessions though?"
"I hope I can still keep a confidence, but no, it won't be the same."
"We'll miss you." Donal said, solemn and serious.
"But he's not going anywhere."
"Ah, true." Donal grinned, "So who's the lucky lady?"
Brendan went to hit him.
"Now now," Peter shook his head. "I said I'd answer as best I could."
"Well go on then." Niamh's voice cut through the relatively jovial group.
"Niamh, I didn't see you there." Peter said, making room.
"Go on." She looked him in the eye.
He couldn't manage it. This was the only question anyone really wanted to he ask but he just couldn't do it.
"I'll do you one easier." Niamh looked briefly at Assumpta, hiding down the far end of the bar, "How long?"
Peter sighed, "Months. More than a year."
The hurt in her eyes screamed her misunderstanding.
"No – I mean - "
"You've been carrying on for a year!"
"Not carrying on."
Niamh watched him. Ambrose tugged her away.
Peter seemed to deflate.
"People'll come 'round." Brendan said, "Give them time."
Peter nodded, "What about you?"
"I've had time. You think this came as a surprise to everyone?"
"No, no. I suspected one or two might have cottoned on."
"But who?" Donal held out his beerless hand.
Liam cupped his hand and spoke into his amigo's ear.
Donal's eyes went wide. "What? Siobhan!"
Brendan fell off his stool. Peter grimaced, Padraig choked and Siobhan laughed. "Don't be too shocked. I might take it the wrong way."
"Well if it's not - " Liam looked around the bar.
"Oh, come on!" Brian tossed back the last of his drink. "Here's one for you – if you know you can be released from the vow even as you take it, can you really mean it in the first place?"
"I did. I meant it."
"You never thought you'd be tempted?"
"I was certain I would be."
"So why not do some other community service, some charitable work, any number of things?"
"There's a difference between resisting temptation and resisting love."
A beat of silence followed, but didn't last.
"Why now?" Siobhan looked into her drink rather than at anyone in particular. "What changed?"
Peter thought for a moment. "I ran out of strength. I considered every alternative. I hit every dead end. Man's thoughts are not God's thoughts, so maybe I'm wrong. Or maybe I was wrong to wait and fight it so long."
His audience waited for more, unsatisfied. And Assumpta was a distant part of that audience, eyes averted but ears tuned in.
"And I realised," Peter went on, "I wasn't the only one missing out. I mean, it's not only my life affected. I was hurting – well."
"But couldn't you have gone away," Niamh spoke up from the table behind them, "let her get on with her life?"
"I could have. I tried to." He sighed, "Perhaps, eventually, things might have changed. I don't know."
Assumpta couldn't take it any more and, wary of making things worse, slipped silently into the kitchen. She shut the door and leaned back on it. The few people who hadn't identified the "lucky lady" would know by tomorrow. And then what? She wasn't subjecting herself, or their relationship if she could manage it, to every nosy villager and their cousin! Peter didn't owe them anything, though he'd probably disagree about that. He certainly didn't owe them this. He was being careful but he wasn't beyond saying something foolish.
At least a few key players seemed to have made themselves scarce, Father Mac and Kathleen Hendley, notably. Both would, no doubt, extract the substance of this inquisition from their customers all week.
The pub was packed out. Assumpta couldn't hide in the kitchen much longer.
Someone knocked at the door. She took a deep breath and prepared her best poker face for the crowd, but Brendan ducked into the kitchen.
"Are you alright?" He asked.
She nodded. "Of course."
"There's no of course about it."
"Brendan-" she warned.
"Yeah, I know, you were hoping to give us all a big shock, but I know you, and I know him, and you need to not throttle anyone right now."
She nearly laughed. "I've managed so far, haven't I?"
"Are you really okay?"
She smiled, swallowed. "I'm more okay than I've been in a long time."
He chuckled. "I can't believe you missed the big send off."
"I didn't. I slipped in the back."
Brendan regarded her a moment and gave an approving nod. "If there's anything I can do."
She exhaled. "You're doing it." She went on, answering the question in his look, "Be his friend. Don't let it change things."
"Done."
She nodded, "Right, back to work."
She stepped through in time to hear Peter say, "I know I've let you down. I didn't plan this. If I'd known, well, I don't know what I'd have done but there's little point to speculating. I tried to fight it. I lost."
She closed her eyes and took a long slow breath, then turned to the people clearly waiting on drinks.
"Assumpta." Niamh pushed Ambrose off. "Can I have a word?"
"I'm a little busy just now."
"They'll wait." Niamh barged through to the kitchen and, as soon as Assumpta followed, hissed, "How could you not say?"
Assumpta, already fit to burst with frustration – no, fury, let out a groan, balling fists and barely seeing straight.
"What, this was news to you?"
"No." She said the one word cold. "No, but nothing could be said, to anyone, till it was official." Assumpta was seriously close to the edge, but it was possible Niamh might calm down if she could just understand, "And then it had to come from him, don't you see?"
"How could you?"
"What? I didn't set my sights on the Priest. It just happened. It happens!"
"What happens?"
"What do you think?"
"I think your marriage didn't turn out just the way you'd hoped and you don't give a damn about the church or anyone, and the grass is always greener."
"You think I'd do that – to Peter? To Leo? God, what I've done to Leo is bad enough but you think I'd do it for nothing more than a quick -?" She lowered her voice, "You think that little of me?"
Niamh looked her in the eye, waiting for an explanation that would never come.
Assumpta could barely breathe. This was her closest friend. How was the rest of the town going to take it if Niamh could believe such a horror?
"What, so nothing's happened?" Niamh prompted.
Assumpta ran out of steam. She couldn't deny something had certainly happened, but above everything she was so wounded that flight remained her only recourse. She went through to the bar, served three drinks, blinking back tears, then mumbled an excuse and slunk up the stairs.
She didn't even make it to the top. Out of sight, she slumped, pressed a fist to her mouth and let a sob shake her. This hadn't been the plan. Why did he have to be a priest? Why couldn't she feel this way about Leo? Why did she have to go and be so stupid as to marry Leo? That was the real gut-churner; that was the bit of all of this she could really shoulder.
Siobhan found her and without a word helped her up to her room.
"Brendan's serving and we'll help if necessary."
"Thanks." Assumpta managed, throat aching. She was starting to calm down.
Siobhan sat beside her on the bed. "Where's he going to live?"
Assumpta shook her head, finding that last ounce of fury in the base of her belly. "He might have signed up for full disclosure, but I didn't."
"No, I wasn't asking that." Siobhan sighed. "I was wondering if he needs my spare room. I cleared it out for the baby, but until then it's free to a good home and I don't see Peter Clifford putting holes in the walls."
"After this, who'd blame him?" Assumpta nearly smiled. "I don't think he knows where he's going to live."
"I'll ask him." Siobhan waited another moment, then left.
Assumpta went to the loo and washed her face. If only she had ice upstairs. The red around her eyes would take a while to fade.
Make-up it was.
So Brendan and Siobhan were on-side. But Niamh, how could she think -? No, Assumpta pushed it from her head. She had a pub to run, bigger fish to fry. She could wallow or rage, or both, later.
Peter caught her eye as she came back down the stairs. He looked concerned but wouldn't – couldn't go to her. Not now. Later.
Maybe.
Niamh, at least, had cleared off. The kitchen was a safe refuge again, and she only needed it once or twice now that people were running out of questions. But Peter didn't stay much longer than the inquisition. That's what he was here for this afternoon. He got up to leave and they all made a point of farewelling Mr Clifford, or just plain Peter.
God, she'd been calling him that most of the time for upwards of a year.
More than a year, he'd said. He was right too. What a mess! And by some cruel trick it had to get messier before they could set it to rights.