The sun rose over Ballyk, bathing the landscape in a soft orange light. The light trickled through the gaps at the edges of the curtains in Niamh's childhood bedroom. Niamh lay on her side, watching it. She hadn't slept a wink all night.

A rooster crowed. Kieran sighed in his sleep.

Niamh closed her eyes.

...

The phone rang, and it seemed very loud to the slumbering couple.

"Oh, not again!" groaned Assumpta. She picked up the receiver and grunted a sleepy "Hello".

There was no reply.

"Hello?" Assumpta could vaguely hear breathing on the other end, but there was no reply. "You better not have just woken me up so that you can say nothing at all, what do you take me for? You'll be sorry the next time I see you, whoever you are!"

Peter leaned across her to take the receiver. She checked out his naked chest as he did so, then lay looking up at him as he spoke.

"Hello?"

Finally a voice came. "Oh, Peter…Peter, hi."

"Ambrose?"

Assumpta rolled her eyes.

"What's up, Ambrose, are you OK?"

"Yeah…well, no…well, I have a problem, I was wondering if you could help me."

"Sure, anytime."

"Well it's just that…well, I got a call from my mother just now and she's coming over – apparently her friend died and she's upset and wants to see me, so I couldn't say no, could I, but I just don't know what to do because…she doesn't know, and…"

"What time's she coming?"

"Ah…around three, she said."

"OK, well, that's still a few hours away, there's no reason to freak out. I'll be over there as soon as I can."

"I'm meant to be working today! She's expecting Niamh to go and get her from the bus station and -"

"I'll go and get her."

...

Brian gave Kieran his breakfast, poured himself a coffee and stood staring out at the kitchen window, a familiar frown on his face.

The phone rang. Brian turned slowly and went to answer it.

"What's the news, Brian?" said the voice on the other end.

Brian sighed. "I dunno, Frank, I don't know."

"Is she still there?"

"Yes."

"And?"

"And I don't know, she never says anything, but I think you really upset her yesterday so would you mind not speaking to her again - she knows what she should and shouldn't do, I think that's what's bothering her so much."

...

Emma sauntered downstairs at half past eleven.

"What time do you call this?" grunted Sean from his office.

"At least it's still morning!" Emma went into the kitchen and switched on the kettle. "Would you like some tea?" she called.

Sean didn't reply. He was staring at a notepad, doodling half-heartedly with his pen. Deciding something, he got up suddenly and moved purposefully to the door, where he ran headlong into Emma, who spilt hot tea over both of them. Emma shrieked. Sean yelled. "Emma! Watch where you're going!"

"Me? Me watch where I'm going? You're the one who wasn't looking, you were staring out the window!"

"Yeah, well, this is my office, OK, I'll do what I like in it!"

"Well sor-ry for making you tea! I just thought I'd be nice, you don't have to return the favour!"

Sean looked at his daughter. "Sorry."

"What's wrong with you at the moment, anyway?"

He looked at his watch, then back at Emma. "OK," he said, "Come on." He moved into the kitchen and sat down at the table, gesturing for her to do the same. "I have something to tell you."

...

Father Mac stepped into Fitzgerald's at half past twelve, hoping for some sandwiches, but trying not to hope too much.

The landlady looked at him in enraged surprise. "You've got some gall crossing that threshold," she said.

"Oh, come now, Assumpta, you can't have been serious yesterday!"

"Oh yes I was, I was deadly serious. Get out."

"I am a long term paying customer!"

"Bully for you." She opened the door.

With a sigh, Father Mac stepped back through it, resolving to have a word with Peter at his earliest opportunity.

...

Peter stood at the Cilldargan bus station, occasionally shifting his feet and looking at his watch. A bus pulled up in front of him, and the first passenger off it was a red haired woman he knew all too well. She looked at him in mild surprise, and then broke into a smile. "Well, hello! It's young Kieran's godfather! How are you, dear?" She leant forward and kissed him on the cheek.

"I'm fine, thankyou, Imelda, how are you?"

"Oh, I can't complain – a little birdie told me that you got married recently!"

"Yes, I did." Peter smiled.

"Congratulations!"

"Thankyou!"

"Are you here to get me, or…?"

"Err, yes, yes I am."

"Is Niamh busy today? Oh, I'm sorry – she is always very busy, I really should have spoken to her before I booked the bus."

"Well, don't worry about that, Imelda, err…would you mind, can I buy you a tea or coffee? There's something that we need to talk about."

...

Sean stepped into Fitzgerald's, and the chatter inside immediately stopped. Sean felt his ears burn. He knew that meant they'd all been talking about him. He took a quick glace around the bar. No Niamh. "Err, Assumpta," he said, stepping forward. "Can I have a word with you?"

"Sure," she replied. "Kitchen?"

"You look like you need a pint, Sean!" said Brendan.

"Err, maybe later," said Sean, as he stepped through the reception door.

"Tea?" said Assumpta, moving over to the kettle.

Sean looked taken aback. "Oh. Thankyou."

Assumpta filled the kettle and put it on the stove. She turned around to find Sean still standing in the same place, staring at her. "Sit down," she said.

"Yeah." He awkwardly pulled out a chair and sat down on it. "Umm…I just…well, I wondered if umm…if you knew or could tell me what Niamh's thoughts are…or plans, or…"

"She hasn't spoken to you?"

"Well it doesn't help that she's staying at Brian's – he seems to be trying his hardest to make sure that I don't get anywhere near her."

"Ah."

"Have you heard from her?"

"I haven't today. It's the first day she hasn't come in here."

...

The green van pulled up outside the Garda house, and Peter and Imelda got out. "I'll just have a talk to them both – if we can get them to talk to each other, I'm sure that'll do the trick." She looked thoughtfully at Peter as he heaved her suitcase to the door. "I know these things happen in marriages sometimes – not often, but…they do happen." She gave a nod, as if she'd settled the issue in her mind, and walked up the steps. "Oh dear, Ambrose doesn't seem to be home. Do you have a key?"

"Yes, he leant me his, hang on." Peter rested the suitcase on the top step and pulled the key out of his pocket. "Are you sure you're OK if I leave you here?" he said, as they stepped through the door.

A few doors along, someone was watching them.

...

"If you love her, pursue her, is what I would say. She was sure of her decision two days ago, it's just that once it became public she got blindsided by all the people who disagree – which is a lot of people, let's face it, I think you and me are the only ones who don't. And they've all been on at her and on at her, including Father Mac, who's a pro at using the guilt treatment to convince women not to leave their husbands – you need to cancel him out, just get in there and remind her of what she was feeling on Saturday."

"And how exactly do I 'get in there'? I mean, what do you suggest?"

"Well if Brian won't let you in, just barge past him! It's not up to him who she sees, it's up to her!"

"Yeah, but it's not just him. She asked me yesterday to give her space."

"OK, so be tactful, but don't stay away! All 'give me space' means is 'go away for a little while and then come back'!"

"You think 'a little while' is up already?"

"Yeah, just go, Sean - if she won't see you let me know and I'll talk to her, but I think that's highly unlikely."

Sean nodded. "OK. OK, yeah. I'll go and see her."

"Off you go, then!" Assumpta stood up and cleared away their mugs. She opened the kitchen door, and saw Brian standing at the end of the bar talking to Siobhan. "Ooh, Brian's not home!" she hissed to Sean. "Now's your chance!"

"Thanks, Assumpta," said Sean, coming out of the kitchen. "I appreciate it."

"No problem."

"Ah, Sean!" said Brian loudly. "Sneaking off with somebody else's wife now, are you?"

Sean looked like he'd been slapped.

"Oh, thankyou, Brian, you always manage to say such eloquently stupid things," said Assumpta.

"Where are you off to, Sean?" Brian asked.

"Home," Sean replied. "Anywhere but here." He strode out of the bar.

"Whiskey, please," said Brian.

"Don't think I won't bar you," said Assumpta, fixing Brian with a glare, but she turned and began to pour his drink as he asked.

"It would be very much against your interests to do so. You've already barred one highly respected patron and you're not doing yourself any favours by it, I wouldn't be surprised if you found yourself at the wrong end of a boycott."

"A boycott? Oh, don't be ridiculous, Brian!"

"Not from me, for now," said Brian, handing her a note. "But I know exactly what you're doing and so does anyone with two eyes in their head, and for my part I will kindly ask you to leave Niamh alone and let her think for herself."

Assumpta looked shocked, offended and incredulous all in one. "WHAT?"

...

Peter emerged from the Garda house to find himself face to face with Father Mac. The priest was standing below the stoop, looking directly at him. He seemed to have been waiting for him.

"Oh, hello, Father," said Peter awkwardly. He'd known this was coming. "How are you?"

"Oh, a little hungry and thirsty, but I can't complain."

Peter, electing not to reply to this comment, began to cross the road.

"And how are you, Peter? How's married life?"

"Very good, thankyou." Peter was making a beeline for the blue door, absurdly grateful that for the first time he had, in fact, a Father Mac-free haven.

"Really? Not a bit…stressful, at all, is it?"

Peter turned in aggravated surprise. "No! No, thankyou - other people's marriages are a bit stressful to me at the minute, but my own is quite wonderful, since you ask!"

"Oh good, then you'll be able to help me." Father Mac fixed Peter with a gaze he found disturbingly hard to break.

"Help you with what, Father?"

"With my problem of being a little hungry and thirsty."

"Well, I'm sure you can feed and quench yourself at places other than Fitzgerald's, Father! I'd help you if I could, but I live above."

"That's not my point. As the landlord, I'm sure you have the ability to lift a barring."

"That's honorary landlord."

"Oh, that's what she calls it, is it?"

"No, that's what we both call it. I'm not the licensee."

"No, but since you do have, as you put it, a 'wonderful' marriage with the licensee, then…"

"Barrings aren't my department, sorry."

Father Mac frowned. "Oh really. And you'll also wash your hands of Niamh Egan's wanton destruction of her marriage, is that right?"

"No, Father, I won't, but that's a separate issue, and using such aggressive terms to describe it is hardly going to help the situation."

"Aggressive? I don't think I am the one who's being aggressive here! I am trying to prevent two young people from committing a mortal sin!"

"So am I, Father. And I won't criticise your methods if you don't criticise mine. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go."

Peter turned on his heel and escaped into the safety of Fitzgerald's. Father Mac sat down on one of the blue benches in frustration, a sour expression on his face.

...

Niamh sat on the couch, watching Kieran playing through the garden window. A mug of tea was going cold in her hand.

There was a knock at the door. Niamh ignored it, as she'd been ignoring all knocks and phone calls all day. She stood up and went to tip the tea out in the sink.

"Niamh!"

She froze. It was Sean's voice.

"Niamh, are you there?"

The voice was coming closer. He was coming round the side of the house.

Niamh turned and looked through the glass doors. Kieran was playing with his toy truck. She saw Sean kneel down beside him.

"Hi Kieran, how are you?"

"Good."

"That's a pretty nice truck you've got there."

"Yeah."

"Is your mummy around? I'd like to speak to her." As he said it, he heard one of the glass doors click open behind him. Kieran pointed, and Sean looked up. "Hi," he said.

...

"Oh, there you are, love!" Ambrose's mother pulled him into a hug, trying to bury him to the best of her ability. She pulled back and smiled at him. "How was your day?"

"Fine. How are you?"

"Oh, fine, fine." Imelda began serving some stew that was simmering on the stove.

"I'm sorry about Florrie."

"Well, my dear, she had a good long life. The funeral's on Saturday, if you'd like to come."

"Sure, yeah. Umm, hang on, I'm just going to get changed."

Ambrose took rather a long time doing so. Mostly he was just sitting on his bed, staring at the wall and wondering what on earth he was going to tell his mother. Eventually, there was a sharp rap on the door.

"Ambrose! Tea's ready!"

It reminded him of when he was in school. How much simpler life had been then.

...

Niamh, Sean and Kieran were walking in the fields above Brian's house. Kieran ran ahead, waving a stick like it was a sword.

"You don't want to be with him, though, do you?" Sean dreaded the answer, but he had to ask.

Niamh remained silent, and Sean found that even worse than hearing the answer he didn't want to hear. "Two days ago you were sure," he pressed. "At least, you seemed sure…"

"Yeah, I know. It was all a lot easier before everyone else found out about it."

"But what matters is what you think, not what everyone else thinks!"

Niamh nodded. She stopped walking and looked out across the valley. Then she chanced a glance at him. "I don't know what to say to you, Sean, really. Everything you're saying is true, and no I don't want to be with Ambrose, but… I've been backed into…no, I've backed myself – it's my fault, I've backed myself into a corner and the only person who can get me out of this corner is me, but I don't know how to do it, I don't know which way to go. It's just so much more complicated than I realised, and… It's not only what I think that matters, you are wrong about that. There's what Kieran thinks, what my dad thinks, what Peter thinks…It is important, these are people whose opinions matter to me a great deal…"

"What about what Assumpta thinks?"

"And what Assumpta thinks, yes, she has some very good arguments, but am I just saying they're good because they're what I want to hear? Anyway, I don't know about that, but I know that I'm thoroughly sick of people telling me what to do. I just want to sit somewhere by myself for, I don't know, days and days, and just think about it until I know what to do. The problem is that all these people who are telling me what to do – they're all making good arguments and they are thinking of my wellbeing, but they're all saying what they're saying for their own reasons – none of them can be objective, they've all got major emotional things pushing them to give the advice they're giving me, you because you want me to be with you, Dad because he's worried about Kieran and about me, probably, but also because he doesn't like you, that's gotta be having an effect on it; Peter because he married us and he wants us to get along and he likes to think that he can make that happen somehow; Ambrose because I'm hurting him; Assumpta because she's been hurt in the past by similar situations and she thinks that because of that she knows everything about my situation and what will work for me just because it worked for her – do you see how much stuff is running around in my head, Sean? I can't even trust the people who are trying to help me because I just keep thinking, 'Why are they saying that, can I be sure -'"

"But isn't that confusion just because different people are saying opposite things? People were always going to oppose this -"

"Yeah, I know, of course I know that, I… Oh great. Now I look like a complete idiot who didn't foresee that."

"No, you're not an idiot, Niamh."

"I didn't say I was, I said I looked like one."

"I've put you into a very difficult situation. I'm sorry."

"No, it's…" Niamh sighed. "It's not you, I was… It takes two."

"We didn't do anything, though, really. Your marriage isn't ruined, if you want to go back to it."

"You think so?"

...

Another night went by, and a day. Imelda knocked on Niamh's door. Father Aiden knocked on Niamh's door. Siobhan knocked on Niamh's door. But she didn't answer. She knew she had to figure it out on her own.

It was evening by the time Ambrose knocked on Niamh's door. He didn't really want to be there, but his mother had insisted. Anyway, he and Imelda had had Kieran that day and somebody had to take him back. Well, that was what Imelda had said.

"Why don't you stay here too, Daddy?" said Kieran, as they stood on the doorstep. "Then I wouldn't have to go back a lot."

Ambrose couldn't reply.

"Don't answer it," said Niamh to her father.

"It'll be Kieran," he replied, his tone strong. Niamh shrank back into her bedroom as he opened the door. "Ambrose," he said, his tone gentle. "Come in."

...

"Have you seen Niamh?" asked Assumpta when the pub finally closed for the evening.

"No," Peter replied. "I hear she's not seeing anyone."

"You think that's good?"

"Yes, I do. We're all giving her different advice. It's too confusing."

"I just thought she might have called…or something…"

"She needs time to think."

...

His stomach was clenched and his heart was fluttering. It felt like the agonising moments when he'd tried to get up the courage to talk to girls he liked in high school. It felt just like the first time he'd talked to Niamh, the first time he'd asked her out, their first date, when he'd asked her to marry him… Such a familiar feeling, but so different now. Finally, he came out with it.

"Ah, Brian, do you mind if I have a chat to Niamh?"

Brian turned around, his whiskey glass halfway to his lips. "Of course not. She's your wife, Ambrose."

"Well, yeah, I just… Yeah."

"I'll put Kieran to bed, don't you worry about it."

"OK, thanks." Steeling himself, Ambrose walked down the hall and knocked tentatively on Niamh's bedroom door.

She looked awkward, surprised to see him. She'd probably thought it was Brian knocking on the door. Her hair was messy and she wasn't wearing any make-up. She didn't say anything.

"Err, sorry, you probably thought I was Brian…"

"No, I knew it was you." Brian didn't knock like that.

Ambrose suddenly found his mind to be completely blank. All the things he'd been rehearsing in his head all day to say to her, the things he'd said to the mirror last night, the things his mother had told him to say, they'd all just gone. "How are you?" was all he could manage.

Niamh raised an eyebrow, then lowered it again. "I'm beginning to forget how, 'I'm fine, thankyou' feels like."

There was silence as both of them looked anywhere but each other. "And how are you?" Niamh continued.

"Pretty bad, yeah." He wanted to joke and forget the whole thing. To have her laugh, fall into his arms and kiss him. Would she?

She was still standing at the door to her room, not opening it any further than she had to. Not wanting her husband in her room. Her husband, who felt like a stranger to her. "Would you like to go and sit down?" she asked, seeing that he didn't seem to be going to leave.

"OK."

She led him down the hall.

"My mother's here at the moment," he spluttered. "She sends her love."

"Oh, thanks." Not wanting to go anywhere near Brian and Kieran, Niamh took Ambrose out the front door and around to the outdoor furniture. She assumed he must have something to say, because she sure as hell didn't. She sat down silently, and he followed suit.

She wasn't saying anything. That must mean she wanted him to say something. Right, yes. Yes, that was why he'd came, wasn't it. "Umm, Niamh…" The fluttering wouldn't go away. "Niamh… I've come here because…Well, I wanted to see you, and also because I missed you and also because…" His heart began to thud. "Because I've heard that you're not with Sean at the moment and so I wondered if maybe you'd changed your mind."

Niamh stared at the table. This was it, she thought. This was all she'd needed. For him to ask her. He was asking her to come back, which meant that she must have left, that had actually happened… It was real. And now here was this blumbering nervous man at her side, his blue eyes searching hers for any sign than his worst nightmare was not real. It was her fault that he was living his worst nightmare. She would just have to live with that.

"No," she replied. "No, I haven't changed my mind."

Ambrose looked away, his eyes burning. The flutter died and was replaced by a rock crushing his heart.

Tears came to Niamh's eyes too. This was it. Definitely this time. "I'm sorry, Ambrose. I didn't mean to hurt you. But I can't help how I feel. Not just for Sean, but for you. I can't do this anymore."

Ambrose made a strangled gasp, and she thought he didn't want to cry in front of her, so she got up and left, patting his head as she passed him.

When he heard the door click shut, he broke down.