Hi! Sorry it's been a while - so many essays :( Anyway, here's the next bit. Don't ye complain now... I gave you five chapters of bliss; that's a record for me :P

Chapter Six

Halfway through packing his mother's silver candlesticks safely into a box, Peter stole a sideways glance at Mark. The pair had been sitting on the living room floor in silence for several minutes, ever since they'd discovered an album of Mark's wedding photos amongst their mother's things. Mark continued to flip pensively through the album whilst Peter worked. Peter wasn't sure whether Mark wanted to talk; he wasn't sure how to go about initiating such a conversation, anyway. Talking to parishioners about their problems was easy; it was his job to talk to them, and they generally appreciated his advice. But Mark was his older brother. He looked up to Mark. What help could he possibly offer?

'Peter?' Mark spoke up, interrupting his brother's musings.
'Yeah?'
Mark closed the album, and placed it on the floor in front of him.
'I just wanted to say... about Assumpta...'
'What about her?' Peter asked, panic rising in his chest. This was not what he expected Mark to want to talk about...
'It's just...' Mark sighed, and looked apologetically at Peter. 'Look, I know I'm an incurable flirt, right, but I need you to know that I would never... I'd never really try it on with her, you know?'
Peter stared at his brother, taken aback by his bluntness, as Mark continued.
'I know I've made moves on your girls before, when we were kids and all. But I can see that you really are in love with this one, aren't you?'
Peter nodded.
'Yeah, well,' said Mark, gazing down at the photo album, 'See, I know what it feels like to truly love someone, and to have them taken away from you. If I could get my hands on that bastard who stole away my Edith, I'd have him, you know?'
'I know,' said Peter quietly, watching a tear streak down his brother's cheek.
'It's funny,' continued Mark, laughing bitterly, 'Even after what she did... just walking out on me... and on Henrie... I still love her as much as ever. If she came through this door right now, I'd take her back straight away. No questions asked. How dumb is that?'
'That's not dumb at all, Mark. That's love,' responded Peter.
There was nothing, he thought, that Assumpta could ever do to make him love her any less.
'Hmmm...' said Mark thoughtfully, 'I remember being taught in church that to love someone means choosing to love them despite all their sins and imperfections and mistakes. I think I finally understand what that means.'

Just as both men were thinking that their conversation might be getting just a little too soppy, Assumpta and Henrie crashed through the front door, arms full of shopping bags, and provided a welcome distraction,

The next few days passed quickly, with Peter and Mark busily sorting through the house. Assumpta kept offering to help, but was hardly ever allowed to. Instead, she was instructed to relax. She mostly kept Henrie occupied, and even had a couple of decent conversations with Joe. He explained that he found it really hard living with Mark and Henrie, and she told him he was welcome to come and stay at Fitzgerald's over the break, if he needed to get away. He seemed mildly pleased with the idea; he had never before been out of England.

The best part of each day, however, was when Mark and Henrie went home, and Joe disappeared up to his bedroom. Then, Peter and Assumpta could just sit or lie on the lounge, talking about everything and nothing, while he played with her hair. They talked about the past, confessing old thoughts and feelings they hadn't been able to share at the time, and they made plans for the future.

Soon enough, it was Friday afternoon, and Mark was buzzing around the place organising everything for the party. Assumpta joked that he was behaving like a bridezilla on her wedding day, and continuously referred to him as 'our social butterfly'.

Half an hour before the guests were expected to arrive, Assumpta went upstairs to get ready. After taking a shower and finishing her hair and makeup, she pulled her new dress out of its bag, in which it had been sitting under Peter's bed since the day she bought it. Holding it up in front of the mirror, Assumpta made a face. What on earth had possessed her to buy such a ridiculous dress? Why had she thought it sensible to take fashion advice from a five-year-old? She was going to look stupid in front of all Peter's friends... But there was no time now to find something else. She sighed, and resignedly dressed.

'Assumpta!' called Peter, who, after having taken three minutes to throw on some jeans and a nice shirt, was waiting impatiently at the bottom of the stairs. His friends had already begun to arrive, and were starting to think he'd made Assumpta up.
'I'm coming!' came the frustrated reply.
Sighing, Peter leaned against the back of the lounge, and continued to watch the stairs for a sign of Assumpta.

As soon as he caught a glimpse of her, it was as though both his lungs had suddenly collapsed, and he'd never breathe again. As she descended the rest of the stairs, he continued to stare wordlessly and unashamedly at her. She was already the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen, even in jeans and a flannelette shirt, covered in someone's spilt pint of stout... but... he had never seen so... so much of her before. Assumpta's dress skimmed her figure perfectly, and stopped an inch before it even reached her knees. The colour was set perfectly against her pure white skin, and her hair, which she'd been growing longer, tumbled delightfully about her shoulders. She was, in his opinion at least, absolutely flawless.

When Peter's eyes finally reached her face, he saw that Assumpta was biting her lip apprehensively.
'Well?' she asked impatiently, obviously unsettled by his wordless staring.
'Assumpta...' he breathed, running a strand of her hair gently through his fingers. When he reached the end of her hair, he let his hand brush lightly down her arm, and come to rest on her waist. 'You're just too good to be true.'
Relieved, Assumpta smiled, and her shoulders relaxed as Peter pulled her into a soft but fervent kiss.

They broke apart just in time for Mark to come bumbling through with a bottle of wine on the way to the garden. He stopped dead in his tracks when he saw her.
'Wow,' he exclaimed.
'Mark!'
'Sorry,' Mark winced, actually appearing genuinely apologetic.
'Come on outside,' he said to Assumpta, 'You're what everyone's come to see, after all!'
'Oh, don't say that,' she whined, completely mortified, as Mark headed away out the back door.
'Come on, you,' Peter said, taking her hand and leading her outside.

Assumpta was dragged around to meet all the Cliffords' closest friends. She was sure they all seemed nice enough, though she could barely remember any of their names. She kept a tight grip on Peter's hand as they made the rounds. It was only when they settled into a longer conversation with Peter's best friend Jack and his wife that Assumpta finally felt comfortable enough to let his hand go.

It wasn't long at all before Jack suggested they make use of the goals still set up in the garden, and nearly all the men present quickly divided themselves into two teams. Peter disappeared into the house, and quickly returned clutching a football and wearing his boots and a huge grin. Assumpta stood by to watch with Jack's wife Sarah and the illustrious Laura Brennan, who, to Assumpta's relief, was happily married to a banker named Sam.

Assumpta found the game highly entertaining, not least because Peter had this pathetically cute habit of looking her way every time he made some mildly impressive move, to make sure she had seen it and was duly amazed. When he finally kicked the winning goal for his team (Middlesbrough, naturally), he came running in her direction. Slowly dawned the realisation that he probably intended to pick her up and spin her around, in celebration of his victory. She held out her hands to stop him.
'Oh, no, no, no. You're all filthy and dirty!'
Peter glanced down at his muddied clothes, looking exaggeratedly crestfallen. His friends began to rally around him, booing and shouting 'Oh come on!' 'He just won the game!' 'Give the guy a break!'
Assumpta kept her eyes on Peter, who gave her a rather impressive look of pleading. Rolling her eyes, but unable to keep a smile from her face, she stepped forward, steadied herself with a hand on Peter's shoulder, stood on her toes, and reached up to kiss him. His friends jostled and cheered, then went back to their beers.

As Peter was heading back inside to change his clothes, he caught sight of something that made his heart sink. He quickly grabbed Mark's sleeve as he walked past.
'What's she doing here?' Peter whispered, indicating with a jerk of his head to the woman standing by the gate.
Mark looked over and shrugged.
'I didn't invite her. She must've heard about it from someone else...'
Peter brought his hand to his mouth in panicked exasperation.
'Listen, Mark, you can't let her near Assumpta.'
'What? Why?'
'Please, just promise me you'll keep them away from each other.'
'Yeah, okay...'
'I'll be back in a minute.'

Mark began making his way over to Assumpta, but was distracted by the sight of Henrie running off down the road after a dog someone had brought to the party.
'Henrietta! Get back here!' he shouted, running off after her.

No sooner had he gone than Assumpta looked over her shoulder and saw the woman standing alone by the gate. She hesitated a moment before going over to her. It was no great secret that Assumpta didn't like this woman, but, she could imagine how it would feel to be in her position, and she felt a surge of pity.

'Hi Jenny.'
Jenny didn't reply. Assumpta sighed. This was going to be more awkward than she'd thought...
'How are you?' she tried again.
'Where is he?' asked Jenny quietly.
'Peter? Ah, I think he just went inside for a minute.'
'Good. I didn't come to see him. I came to see you.'
'Me? What for?'
'To warn you.'
'Warn me?'
Jenny remained silent for several moments, and Assumpta could see that she was fighting back tears.
'What did he tell you?' Jenny blurted, 'That he loves you? That he's going to leave the priesthood for you? But let me guess – you haven't seen any real evidence of it?'
Assumpta stared silently at her.
Jenny laughed cynically.
'What? Did you think you were the first? Why do you think he left here and went to Ireland in the first place?'
Assumpta continued to stare. An internal battle was raging between her desire to believe in Peter and her deep-running insecurity.
'Has he taken you to bed yet?'
'Excuse me?'
'Has he taken you to bed?'
'That's none of your business.'
'That'll be a yes then,' stated Jenny, folding her arms across her chest. 'Good, isn't he?'
'What?' said Assumpta quietly, feeling as if she might be sick.
'I said he's good. Even when he was here for the funeral... It's a good thing I was there to provide the comfort he needed... But then he just ran off on me again, back to you. But rest assured, sweetheart, he'll get bored of you soon enough.'

Assumpta heard the back door swing closed behind her. Tears welling in her eyes and a stabbing pain in her abdomen, she turned around to see Peter staring, red faced, in their direction. Without a word, she turned and ran, out the gate and down the street.