Chapter Six

When she arrived at Peter's front garden, Assumpta suddenly realised what a stupid idea it was to go waking him at half-one in the morning to have this particular discussion. She was on the verge of turning back, when she noticed a soft light shining from the windows of the church beyond.

She walked over, and entered silently and timidly through the open door. There he was, leaning against a railing, seeming very small as he tilted his head up to look to the large statue of the Blessed Virgin. He hadn't heard Assumpta come in.

Wringing her hands awkwardly, Assumpta thought of how best to initiate the conversation... Under normal circumstances, she would have jokingly mocked him, and watched his mouth curl up into a smile he couldn't repress. But things were more complicated now. She decided to tread more carefully.

'I hear she's a good listener.'

Peter's body immediately tensed up at the sound of her voice, but he didn't speak nor turn around.
Assumpta sighed.
Of course, he wasn't going to make this easy.
She moved up the aisle, closer to where Peter was standing.

'Look... I just wanted to apologise... for what happened in the bar. For Leo.'
Peter continued to stare straight ahead at the statue, and said coldly,
'Forget it.'
'I just... I don't want you to feel unwelcome... to avoid the place. You haven't been in in weeks. I... I miss you.'
Peter scoffed, scornfully.
'Yeah, well, you made your choice.'

Assumpta was astounded, and instantly infuriated.
'Excuse me?' she spat, 'I made my choice? What choice? You didn't give me a choice, Peter!'
'Oh, right, and I suppose I made you go running off after Leo in Dublin without so much as a word to me? That seemed like a pretty clear choice to me, Assumpta.'
'And what would've happened if I stayed?' Assumpta felt her cheeks burning and tears threatening to escape her eyes. 'How long would it have been before you ran away from me again? Just like you do every single time we get close to being real with each other.'
'You didn't even give me a chance.'
'I didn't need to.'
'No.' Peter was raising his voice now. 'No, you didn't, because you already had Leo waiting for you. It didn't matter one bit what happened in this little game you were playing with me, because your real relationship was stowed away safely at home.'
'No...' Assumpta tried to interject, but Peter was too worked up to listen.
He turned to face her for the first time, and his eyes flashed with true hurt and anger.
'How long did you wait after I left before you fell into his arms? How long, Assumpta, before you fell into his bed?' His voice cracked so much on his last sentence that he barely got the words out.

Guilt stricken again, but determined not to show it, Assumpta held his gaze.
'He was there for me, Peter. He's always been there for me. I can depend on him. He gave up everything for me. He was willing to choose me over his job.'
Catching her meaning, Peter looked away again.
'It's not just a job, Assumpta.'
'Oh, I know,' she said, sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

They stood in charged silence.

Finally, Peter asked dejectedly, 'So what am I supposed to do now? Just sit back and watch you play happy families with Leo?'
'Oh, please,' said Assumpta, icily. She had had just about enough of being made to feel guilty. 'Don't you dare stand there looking all forlorn like some poor innocent victim who was screwed over by a heartless woman. You just remember, Peter Clifford, that you're the one who told me there could never be anything between us. I was there; I was waiting. You could have had me in a heartbeat. But you didn't want me.'
Peter looked over to her, just in time to see the first disobedient tear fall.
'I never said I didn't want you,' he said, sincerely.
'You went away to sit on a hill somewhere and forget me. I'd say that's a damn clear indication.'
'I could never forget you.'

He looked at her again, like he always looked at her when he let himself go... in sad, sweet desperation.

She looked at him in fury.

Oh, what? He was being sweet now? Five seconds ago, wounded; before that, angry. It was so typical of Peter. She never knew whether she was coming or going with him. He'd give her these glimpses of the most genuine, exhilarating affection she'd ever known, and then bring her crashing down with deliberate distance, coldness, "This is it".

'God, Peter! Would you ever just make up your bloody mind? You are the most unbelievable, frustrating, infuriating - '

But, of course, Peter never got to find out what he was.

He leaned in to Assumpta's beautiful, tear-stained face, and kissed her – partly because he wanted to make her stop talking; partly because he couldn't bear to be distant from her any longer. Without a second's hesitation, she kissed him back. It was passionate, a little angry... and desperate, as if they were trying to kiss away all their problems, to communicate what words had failed to say.

After a few moments, Assumpta pulled back, and said forcefully, through clenched teeth, 'Don't.'
Holding her face in his hands, Peter lifted it to his own, locking her in his gaze.
'Look me in the eyes and tell me "don't",' he whispered.
When she didn't respond, he drew her to him again.
Somehow, kissing Peter felt strangely like coming home... only with a lot more dizziness and a much faster heart-rate. Assumpta wished she could stay there forever, just pretending the rest of the world didn't exist, like they had the night of the bombings.

Only, the real world had come knocking for them then, and it did so again now. Images of Leo asleep back at Fitzgerald's plagued Assumpta's mind, and she pulled away from Peter once more.

'I've got to go,' she said, and ran out of the church before he had the chance to stop her.

As she climbed back into bed, Leo stirred beside her.

'Where have you been?' he asked, sleepily.
'Nowhere, love,' came her absent reply.

But he thought she smelled faintly of candles and incense...