With half an eye open, Assumpta realised they were still in the Hertz rental Peter had picked up at the airport.

At least the scenery had changed. Gone were the red and amber lights of passing cars, now replaced by miles of verdant pine.

"Morning," Peter looked shattered. Pale and red-eyed, his face was firmly fixed on the solitary road ahead. "I stopped for coffee."

In the cup holder was a polythene cup steaming with the promise of caffeine within.

Gingerly taking a sip, Assumpta looked at the clock on the dashboard. "6am? We've been driving for two hours! Where the hell are you taking me?"

"You'll see." Peter tried to repress a smirk.

"When you said that we were going to Manchester, I thought you'd be visiting your parents – your friends?"

"And I will, I just want to make a pit stop first."

"A pit stop?" Assumpta questioned. "We're half way to bloody London."

Peter smiled at her sense of direction. "We're going the other way."

"Scotland?"

"Not that far!"

Assumpta struggled to remember what was between Manchester and Scotland but drew a blank. "I give up. Where are we going?"

The driver grinned conspiratorially. "It's a surprise."

"Peter!"

"Don't worry, we're almost there," he assured her. "Drink your coffee."

So she did, watching carefully for road signs among the lush green ferns. She hated surprises.

When the car eventually did stop, it was outside a log wood cabin set within acres of woodland. As Assumpta exited the car and took in the surroundings, she noticed that there was a huge lake through the trees.

"Lake Windermere." Peter explained, pulling bags full of groceries from the boot.

"We're in the Lake District?"

"I know this is a bit like replacing countryside with countryside but my sister said I could use her cabin, so…"

Assumpta looked up at the huge house beside the water. "Wait, we're staying here?"

"Do you like it?"

A breath caught in her throat. "It's incredible!"

And he couldn't disagree. Angela Clifford-Webb had certainly done well for herself in her years as a stockbroker. Currently based in Hong Kong, she and her husband spent their summers in this house when they were visiting Manchester.

"When did you find time to get supplies?" Assumpta gestured to his shopping.

"You sleep very deeply… and you snore!"

"You can't know that after one measly nap?"

Peter winked mischievously. "There's still time."

Assumpta was astonished by this growing confidence that her former curate was developing. The further away from St Joseph's they got, the surer Peter was of himself. As he unlocked the door with the spare key hidden beneath the doormat and invited her in, Assumpta soon realised where all of this new-found cockiness came from.

"My God, Peter. You're rich!"

The inside of the house was more impressive than the exterior. From the fine linens and expensive furniture to the original artworks exhibited on the walls, the place oozed affluence.

"Not mine I'm afraid." Peter admitted. "But my sister said we could stay here for as long as we like."

As they stepped onto the hard wood floor to the lavish kitchen-diner at the back of the house, Assumpta immediately felt at home. "How's forever?"

The curate smiled warmly. "Works for me."

The pair shared an easy silence as they put the shopping away into the already amply stocked cupboards.

"We won't go hungry, that's for certain."

"Or thirsty," Peter replied, gesturing to the bottles of Champagne that lined the bottom of the fridge. Taking a bottle out, he suggested, "Breakfast?"

She was about to refuse - she should have refused - but upon inspecting the label beneath the gold-cellophane, her mouth began to salivate. "I'll get the glasses."

With a flute of Cristal in hand and an uninterrupted view of Lake Windermere, Assumpta realised that this would take a lot to beat.

There was always the company, she admitted happily, as Peter tucked hungrily into their breakfast of smoked salmon, bagels and scrambled eggs.

"What do you want to do today?"

She gestured to the empty bottle of Champagne. "After this I'm not going to be good for much."

"We could take a boat out onto the lake? Pack a picnic maybe…"

"Haven't you eaten enough?"

Peter gulped down the remainder of his Cristal. "You've obviously never seen how seriously I take my food."

"I'm beginning to understand." Assumpta leaned back in her lounger, allowing the sun's rays to warm her skin. "A boat trip sounds nice. Anywhere rent them around here?"

"No need," her host announced proudly. "We can take my brother-in-law's dinghy."

"Is there anything you haven't thought of?"

Peter suppressed a smile. Ever since he'd met Assumpta he'd imagined one day bringing her to his sister's house in the Lakes. In the few times he'd been here, the place was always amply supplied with everything you would need. There was even a hot tub, which he was secretly relieved that she hadn't discovered yet.

"I'll go in and pack some sandwiches," he volunteered immediately, trying to keep from imagining Assumpta in a bikini.

But Peter packed a lot more than sandwiches. When his companion sifted through the picnic hamper she discovered a veritable feast of delicacies. From fresh bread, olives and sun-dried tomatoes to a selection of cheeses and cured meats. He'd even snuck another bottle of Cristal in the cooler.

"Seriously, this is too much." Assumpta rested her head back on the white leather seats of their boat – another under-exaggeration by Peter for this 'dinghy' had its own cabin below decks. "So much for the vow of poverty."

"Ah, we're on holiday. It's okay to break a vow or two." He immediately bit his tongue as he said it. It would be naïve to assume that after everything that had happened, the Priest hadn't at least entertained the idea of more occurring between them. But he'd never intended on bringing this up already.

Picking up on his discomfort, the publican tried to lighten the mood. "Any more of this and I might just let you."

Although she couldn't see his face, she could tell by the way Peter gripped the wheel what reaction her comment had left. A smile crept over her face.

This was going to be an interesting week.

"So are we going to eat or what?"

Relieved by the change in subject, Peter brought the boat to an abrupt halt. "You don't need to ask me twice."

Assumpta moved over in the hope that he would join her on the decidedly cramped back seat but alas, her companion stayed put on the drivers stool.

"Can I refill your glass?"

"You may, but I'm warning you. Alcohol, food and overnight flights make for a devilish combination," she replied with a wink.

Peter smiled wryly. "I'll take my chances."

As they tucked into lunch, the publican's eyes kept falling on the steps that led to the cabin below. "So what's down there then?" she asked, trying to sound nonchalant.

Her friend eyed her suspiciously. "Why?"

"Just getting a feel for the place, is all."

Against his better judgement, Peter indulged her. "Just a bathroom. A bed too, I think."

Curiosity piqued, Assumpta navigated her way to the steps and began to climb down. "Want to check it out?"

Peter felt his hands close into fists. "I…"

"Oh get over yourself," she teased. "I've never been on a boat like this before. I just wanted to see what you get for your money."

"I'm not stopping you."

"Suit yourself." Assumpta stuck her tongue out playfully and disappeared below decks.

When she hadn't returned after a few minutes, Peter nervously poked his head down. "Everything okay? "

But he needn't have worried, for there was the publican – flat on her back and snoring softly.

He smiled broadly.

Alcohol, food and overnight flights make for a devilish combination indeed.