Upon arrival at the Meadow Retreat, it turned out that both Peter and Assumpta had been a little bit right. The hotel was vast – Honesty Bar and complimentary macadamias as standard. Surrounded by rolling countryside, the gentle hum of the M50 could be largely ignored. The advert boasted a 24-hour check-in desk – something that the pair were counting on and thankfully, weren't misled with.
The check-in clerk did, however, have something of the Norman Bates about her – a theory which was fortified when she introduced herself as Norma.
"Norma? That's unfortunate."
Peter's ill-thought observation seem to rile up their host who, dressed in her curlers and nightwear, was already deterred by her guests.
"It's just the film, Psycho – you know? Norma-n Bates?" he clarified weakly. "You own a hotel…"
Norma bristled his comment away as if she hadn't heard it. "I trust you'll be needing two rooms?"
Assumpta elbowed her companion in the ribs to prevent him from making yet another contentious comment. 'No, just the one is fine. A King Double if you have it?" Being in the hospitality industry herself, she prided herself on knowing exactly what to ask for in such places.
"Forgive me," their host began. "This is a god-fearing place and I didn't notice a ring. Are you lawfully married?"
Assumpta couldn't believe what she was hearing – and she thought Ballykissangel was bad. Was this hotel really going to turn down good business if its guests were unmarried? She had half-a-mind to leave on principal alone.
"We're going to be married" Peter's level-headed voice deterred her from acting. "We're in Dublin to look at venues actually. Do you offer packages here?"
At this, their venerable host appeared to prick up her ears. Principals be damned when an illustrious wedding package was all to play for.
"I'll get you a leaflet" she volunteered, gladly. "And a King Double, was it? I'll give you our Honeymoon Suite."
Assumpta grinned triumphantly. This was shaping up to be a pretty good holiday.
…
The room confounded expectations. The centre of the room was occupied with a large four-poster bed with an ottoman at its foot. It faced a large bay window with French Doors leading on to a balcony which stretched the entire width of the room. Back inside, a copper free-standing bath was hidden behind an antique room divider – gloriously eccentric, but completely to Assumpta's quirky taste. To cap it off, there was a fireplace big enough to stand in.
"There's complimentary wine in the chiller – glasses right above." Norma bustled around the room, straightening chairs which seldom needed straightening. "Breakfast served 8 til 10" she eyed them suspiciously, anticipating a question. "Room service is not available."
"Thank you," Peter smiled genuinely. "This is really, well – it's exactly what we need."
She nodded accordingly and left the pair to their room. "8 til 10, don't be late."
Assumpta and Peter shared bashfully at one another when they were finally alone. Their eyes drifted nervously, yet surreptitiously to the bed – their bed – each anxious over whether to be the first to take a place on it.
It was up to Assumpta to break the impasse. "Scouting for wedding venues, eh?" she asked him, taking her side on the four poster.
"Not out of the realm of possibility."
Assumpta made room for the curate next to her on the bed, hoping that he might join her. "You might want an engagement first" she yawned lazily, stretching her entire length to fill the bed. "It is a necessary step."
"Is that so?" Peter turned his back to her, unable to trust hiding the broad grin on his face. Yet again, the Edwardian diamond he'd been carrying in his pocket threatened to reveal itself.
"I am so reliably informed."
Assumpta deadpanned as best she could, not wanting to give her true thoughts on the matter away.
Peter reached into the chiller and brought over a complimentary bottle of fizz. "I wouldn't lose any sleep over it" he announced confidently, assuming his spot on the bed. "That part's coming."
"Oh?"
"It is" he responded cryptically. "sooner than you may think."
This felt like a very real and very grown up conversation to be having at one in the morning in the midst of your illicit affair with a Priest, but still, something inside of Assumpta was doing cartwheels at the prospect that this was not only just on the cards for them, it was a sure thing.
She was never anti-marriage as such, she'd just never entertained the possibility of such a thing happening to her. She ran the idea by her inner sardonic self and they were mutually decided – for Peter, their answer would be a resounding positive.
"I like the sound of that," she ventured, taking a swig of champagne from the bottle like a rebel. "There are so few surprises when you're all grown up. Well – your curate declaring his undying love for you, aside."
Peter couldn't help but laugh at this. "I suppose I could have delivered the news softly." His mind wandered to the night that this whole thing began for them – that ordinary Sunday night when something inside of him seemed to flip. Before then, Peter had been unhappy for quite some time. Disillusioned – almost certainly – angry and perhaps even a bit depressed. It was effecting the sort of Priest he'd become, it was effecting the person he'd become – and the curate didn't like it, not a jot.
"What made you come over that night? Did something happen?" For weeks, Assumpta had wanted to ask this question. There was no build up to his grand revelation – they were friends one moment, lovers the next. The only minor indication that there was something else between them resided in the countless 'almosts' which had filled their friendship. The time she was dead set on going to Dublin but Peter's off-the-cuff revelation that he cared for her had prevented it. Or the evening he'd spent drinking with her after hours, when she'd asked him if he'd ever wanted what he couldn't have… Assumpta inwardly cringed at that one. Asking a curate such a question – what the hell was she thinking?
Peter's own outward cringe snapped her from this reverie. "You can't ask me that! I'm embarrassed enough already."
The publican smiled, understanding all too well why he'd be uncomfortable with reliving that particular episode of his life. "Worked, didn't it?" she assured him.
"He got the girl." Peter winked, coyly feeling altogether pleased that his gambit had paid off.
"Okay, okay… do you really want to know all this?"
"Yes, I really, really do."
"Fine, then if you're sitting comfortably, I'll begin…."