At first, everything was a blur. She heard a tone, chiming at the rate of her own heart; she heard a respirator, breathing in time with her own lungs. Everything was muffled, like she was swimming under water. Everything felt different, yet very familiar, as if she'd been this way for some time.

Assumpta tried to speak but no sound came out. She tried again but realised the attempt was hurting her throat. She wanted to cry; she wanted to panic and scream. Then, through the darkness and despite the numbness in her hand, she felt something. Warmth. Skin. Someone was there.

She fluttered her eyelids, willing them to open. A sliver of light crept under her eye lid. She tried again and felt the pressure on her hand tighten.

"Assumpta?"

She recognised his voice instantly. Peter.

She felt him release her hand and heard his footsteps leave the room at speed. She tried to open her eyes again, this time with more success. By the time the Doctor stepped into the room, she was wide awake.

"Don't speak Ms Fitzgerald, you have a tube down your throat"

Assumpta searched the room for Peter while the medical personnel fussed around her – where had he gone? After a moment, the Doctor pulled the respirator from her mouth. She tried to speak, tried to say his name but it felt like she'd swallowed razors. All she could do was mouth the word "Peter"

If the nurse understood her, she didn't answer. Instead, she made adjustments to the machinery and told the patient to take it easy.

So she did and soon slipped back into a still, dreamless sleep.

When she awoke next, her room had taken on an altogether different glow. Gone were the wires and machinery, replaced by an explosion of flowers, balloons and well-wishers. Assumpta perused the faces of her friends: Niamh, Ambrose and Kieran; Brendan and a very pregnant Siobhan.

But no Peter.

"Assumpta, I can't believe you're really here" sobbed Niamh.

"Last time I looked" Assumpta croaked, relieved to discover that it no longer pained her to talk.

A chorus of laughter emanated from the group. In truth, they would have laughed as anything Assumpta said at that moment.

"Can we get you anything? Do you want some water?" offered Siobhan as she attempted to climb out of the only chair in the room.

"No, sit..." she started, alarmed at the enormous size of the vet's bump. Assumpta was sure that she wasn't that pregnant when they last saw each other.

Her stomach twisted in knots. How long had she been in this bed for?

She was about to ask but the look on Niamh's face said it all. Relief, happiness but above all, surprise. In that moment, Assumpta realised two things. One: she had been like this for quite some time. Two: no one had expected her to recover.

In the days that followed, Assumpta began to learn the full extent of her condition. Four months ago she had suffered multiple stab wounds to her abdomen. Seemingly irreparable damage to her stomach and kidneys coupled with extensive internal bleeding had rendered her unconscious for the interim. The surgeons did what they could in the months that followed but her unresponsiveness to treatment had prompted them to ask friends and loved ones to prepare themselves.

Niamh tried to be as gentle as possible as she divulged these details. Alone with Assumpta, she spoke candidly of the shock everyone felt at what happened. She tried to be as forthcoming as possible when Assumpta enquired after the man who did this – was Dermot in jail now?

"'Assuumpta" she began "Dermot's dead. He took his own life just after he did this to you..."

The landlady didn't know how to feel about this. She pursed her lips and looks towards the window, tears stinging her eyes. So much had happened...

Niamh tried to change the subject. She caught Assumpta up on the village gossip – Donal and Liam had unwittingly sabotaged another of her father's hare-brained schemes; she'd hired a new barmaid at the pub; oh and there was a new Priest in Ballykissangel now, Father Aiden.

The breath caught in Assumpta's throat. Peter had done it – he'd left the Priesthood.

So where was he?

Niamh saw her friend jolt at her last sentence. She bit her tongue in an attempt to take back the words. How could she have been so stupid? She needed to clarify; Assumpta needed to know the truth. But was she the right person to tell her?

At that moment, fate – or Assumpta's nurse – intervened to inform them that visiting hours were now over. Niamh breathed a sigh of relief and kissed Assumpta goodbye, promising to return tomorrow. Assumpta was too lost in her own thoughts to respond.

She stared at her hand, the same hand Peter had held – she was sure he had held – three days previously. She'd forgotten what he felt like.

With a sigh, she returned her gaze to the window.

Where are you Peter Clifford?