Peter sat on the steps of the centre, watching the kids play handball by the streetlight. He'd bowed out gracefully after a few rounds, citing his sore hand.

You can't take this away from them. You can't.

He rubbed his good hand over his face. His right hand was healing, but too slowly for Peter's liking. The doctors had decided he'd only lightly fractured his knuckles, but had done some significant muscle damage – the bruising was impressive, he'd been told - and had bound his hand for at least four weeks. It had been just over two, and Peter had had enough.

Sam walked up the street and sat down next to him, watching the kids.

'How'd Mass go?'

'Quite well. We seem to collect a few more people every day,' he said. Peter nodded, surprised. He would have assumed that the not-so-good publicity the church had received – courtesy of their decision to sell the centre – would have pushed people out the door, but clearly not.

'I assume you haven't heard?' Peter asked hopefully, already knowing the answer.

'You would be the first to know, Peter.' Peter nodded.

'What will you do?' Sam asked. Peter looked at him, confused. 'If, for some reason, God decides not to answer your prayers.' Peter frowned and looked at his feet. He hadn't thought about it – he couldn't bring himself to even consider that he might lose the centre. That he might lose the boys.

'I don't know, Sam,' he admitted.

'Would you stay in Manchester?' Peter shrugged.

'Maybe. I haven't given it any thought, really.' He could go anywhere, do anything. And the thought scared him. His conversation with Mark a few nights' earlier had been replaying in his head ever since. He couldn't go back. He wouldn't. He couldn't do that to her. He couldn't leave her, half-dead in a hospital, and then turn up on her doorstep three months' later.

She was trying to forget him, the same way he was trying to forget her. It killed him to think it, but he knew it was for the best. And she'll be doing a much better job, he thought.

Sam patted him on the back. 'You'll figure it out, I'm sure. Your heart knows what to do,' Sam said, reciting Peter's own words back at him. Peter smiled wryly at the retreating figure of the priest.

He had no idea what he would do if they lost the centre. But he knew one thing – he was not returning to Ballykissangel, no matter what.

Peter watched as Sam pulled the doors the community centre shut. There were still a handful of kids running around the carpark, and several parents still standing around talking.

'We should get a coffee can,' Peter mused as he watched them. Sam looked at him, his eyebrows raised.

'Sure.'

Peter smiled wryly. 'Ok, ok…'

Sam grinned at him. 'Your optimism is infectious, Peter.'

Peter sighed. 'It's the only thing keeping me going, Sam,' he admitted. Sam nodded.

'I know.' Peter watched as Emma glanced over at him.

'Those parents have been here for a while,' he commented. Sam nodded.

'It is a community centre, Peter. Adults can come here too,' he joked, and Peter smiled.

'That's not what I meant.'

'I know. It's a good thing though,' Sam replied. 'We need their support as much as their children's.' Peter nodded.

He ran his good hand through his short hair. Time for a haircut, he thought absent-mindedly, before a soft voice interrupted his thoughts.

'Father-Peter?' Emma said, smiling tentatively. Peter looked surprised, but smiled.

'Mrs Carter,' he said.

'Emma.'

'Sorry, Emma. I'm sorry I can't offer you tea or coffee,' he said, motioning towards the group. 'We're a bit low on everything.' She shook her head, smiling.

'No, it's fine. I've been talking to some of the other parents. We're all very grateful for what you've done for the community here,' she said, her face serious. 'We'd all but given up on the centre, until you came along.'

Peter couldn't help blushing; he didn't take compliments well. 'It's been great, really,' he replied. 'They make it easy,' he added.

She shook her head. 'You didn't have to do what you've done with Michael, and with Jack.'

'They're fantastic kids. It's been really great to work with them.' He looked around. 'I know what it means to grow up around here,' he added. 'I couldn't not help. Besides, it was my job,' he said finally. Emma shook her head.

'No, it wasn't. But I hope it remains that way,' she said, smiling at him before turning to leave.

Peter watched as she walked away, but soon turned at the sound of a V8 engine driving far too fast up the street. The black Mercedes pulled up with a screech outside the centre, much to Peter's annoyance.

'Haven't you learnt your lesson?' he asked loudly as William Jones climbed out of the car. Jones ignored the comment and walked up to Peter slowly, an envelope in his hand.

'We got it.'

Peter lay on the small patch of grass at the front of Mark's house, looking up at the night sky.

He still couldn't believe it.

There had been stunned silence after Jones' announcement. Peter had just stared at him, unable to comprehend what Jones had said. Sam had clapped his hand over his mouth in shock. Jones' arrival had attracted the attention of the few remaining parents, who shouted their opinion of his driving in less than complimentary terms, before realising who he was.

'We got it,' Peter had repeated dumbly.

'We got it,' Jones had confirmed, a wide grin spreading across his face.

There was mass chaos from that moment on. The parents realised what had happened and started cheering, which brought the remaining kids out of the carpark to see what the commotion was. Michael and Jack had run straight up to Peter, high-fiving him and Sam, the excitement written all over the faces. They were cheering and shouting with the rest of the kids. Eventually the number of kids had tripled, thanks to Michael and Jack's text messaging, all coming around to congratulate Peter.

Once everyone had started to leave, Peter grabbed Jones.

'How did you do it?' Peter asked. Jones looked innocent.

'What do you mean?' Peter narrowed his eyes.

'You know what I mean. Our tender was three-quarters that of Cole's.'

Jones feigned innocence. 'Oh, I just reminded Morris of a few favours I'd done for him. Oh, and the publicity potential didn't hurt either,' he said, the look of innocence still playing across his face. Peter grinned at him.

'Thank you,' he said, meaning every syllable.

Jones clapped him on the arm. 'Thank you, Peter.'

Peter stared up at the stars.

Thank you.

Bramson held out his hand, and Peter shook it gladly.

'Well done, Peter. Looks like you'll be staying in Manchester for a while,' he said, and Peter smiled.

'That's the plan.'

Peter took a sip of the champagne Bramson had insisted on bringing down to the centre. He'd invited Jones and Sam as well, who all stood around, sipping from their own glasses.

'I have something for you,' Bramson said, still smiling. Peter frowned a little.

'For me?'

'Oh yes.' Bramson pulled a box from his suit pocket and handed it to Peter. 'You're going to need your own again, now,' he said. Peter looked at him, confused, but opened the box.

Inside were a set of keys attached to a sterling silver keychain with a sterling silver cross. Peter smiled.

'Thank you,' he said, shaking Bramson's hand again.

'It's all yours, Peter, as of midnight.' Peter sighed happily, unable to wipe the smile from his face.

'We've discussed the arrangements for the control of the centre,' Jones said. Peter nodded. 'I'll be on the board, as will Alan, and another civilian representative from the council.' Peter nodded again. The council did fork out the lion's share of the cost, so it was only fair they had greater representation. 'I've asked Sam if he wouldn't mind either,' Jones added. 'Pillar of the community and all.' Sam shook his head. Peter smiled at him. 'Sounds like an excellent arrangement, William.'

'And one other member,' he announced, and Peter frowned. Who else could possibly have a stake in the centre? 'You, Peter.'

Peter looked at them, stunned.

'Me?'

'Of course, Peter,' Bramson said, laughing at the former priest's reaction. 'This is your centre in all but name. You're going to run it day-to-day. It's only fair that you have a say in how it's run.' Peter looked from Jones to Bramson. No, they weren't joking.

'Wow, thank you,' he said, still a little stunned.

'You've earned it, Peter. We wouldn't be here without you,' Sam said.

'I wouldn't be here without the centre,' he admitted. 'This place has changed my life.'

'Here's to life-changing community centres,' Jones said, raising his glass. The others all did the same.

'Here's hoping we change many more,' Sam added. Peter grinned.

He could be a part of that. And on his own terms.

Thankyou for all the reviews so far - they're a huge part of what keeps me writing.

All feedback greatly appreciated.