Chapter Seven

Peter sprinted over to where Jenny was standing with a triumphant smile on her face.
'What did you say to her?' he spat angrily.
Without waiting for an answer, he ran off down the street after Assumpta. It wasn't difficult to catch up with her, as her heels were slowing her down.
'Assumpta!' he called as he gained on her, but she strode on determinedly.
He reached out and grabbed her wrist, but she wrenched it away. He raced around in front of her, and seized her by both arms. She struggled against his strong grip.
'Get your hands off me! Let me go!'
'Assumpta, please... I can explain.'
'Oh, I'm sure you can,' shouted Assumpta, determined to look anywhere but Peter's face as her angry tears defiantly fell, 'You can explain your way out of anything, can't you? You treat us like we're nothing, nothing but some evil temptation to be overcome; you make us feel guilty as hell while we wait around for you to decide whether we're worth the risk; then you just explain yourself away with your beautiful words and your big, deep eyes and your empty promises. And we just melt, and we do whatever you want. Then you get bored and move on to the next girl. Is that it, Peter? Is that how your little game works?'
'No, Assumpta, I -'
'Like a sailor, right? A girl in every parish? Keeps you busy, I suppose.'
Every word from her mouth was like a nail being hammered into his heart. He struggled desperately to find something to do or say to reassure her.
'Assumpta, that's not what it's like. I would never do that. You know me.'
For the first time, she looked up into his face, her eyes dark with anger and hurt.
She said simply, 'I thought I did', and she finally escaped from his hold, and continued down the street.

Distraught, Peter made to chase after her again, but a strong hand on his shoulder held him back. He turned to see Mark standing next to him, staring sombrely after Assumpta.
'Let her go.'
'I can't,' said Peter, his voice cracking as he fought back terrified tears.
'Just give her a little time,' said Mark softly, leading Peter back to the house.

Assumpta, having no idea where to go or what to do, continued walking aimlessly until her shoes began to give her blisters. She deserved it, she thought. She was simply furious at herself for not seeing this coming. How had she allowed herself to be so blinded by her feelings for this man that she fooled herself into thinking he was any different from the rest? The evidence was right in front of her all along, ever since Jenny came to Ballykissangel. You wouldn't just leave home and travel to another country for a guy if there was nothing going on! He had made Jenny think that he loved her, and then he'd just left.

And not just that... he'd gone back to her, only – what? – three weeks ago? While Assumpta had been sitting at home in Ireland worrying about him, wishing she could be there to hold his hand as he said goodbye to his mother, he had been here... doing that with her. Horrible images kept appearing in Assumpta's mind... images of Peter holding, kissing, whispering to this other woman. She wondered if he'd played with Jenny's hair the way he did with hers. The thought made her so furious that she kicked a telephone pole in anger, and swore loudly when it absolutely killed her toe.

As it got later, Assumpta knew she needed to find somewhere to spend the night, but she didn't have any money with her – all her stuff remained back at the house. She came across a quaint little B&B, and decided to try her luck. The elderly man behind the counter only needed one look at the beautiful girl in the pretty dress with mascara staining her blotchy red cheeks to know that she really needed a place to stay. And, as she walked off toward the room he'd offered her on credit, he called after her, 'Miss Fitzgerald?'
She turned around. The old man hesitated for a moment before saying gently, 'Whoever he is, he doesn't deserve you'.
Assumpta smiled sadly, and headed to her room for an extremely restless night's sleep.

When Assumpta woke the next morning to strange surroundings, it took her a few moments to remember where she was, and, when the events of the previous day came flooding back to her, she wished that she could be swallowed up by the pile of blankets and simply cease to exist. Now used to having Peter's arms for comfort, her heart just didn't understand why she couldn't go to him to make everything better. Assumpta allowed fresh tears to fall as she scolded herself for wishing he were there to hold her.

When she had managed to compose herself, she took a shower, dressed again in the ridiculous dress that Peter had loved so much, and went downstairs to beg the use of the old man's phone. She called the airline, and managed to book herself a flight to Dublin for that day. The earlier flights being ridiculously expensive at such late notice, she had to take one that left at 11pm. What she would do with herself until then, she had no idea, but she wanted to get out of Manchester as quickly as possible.

There was, of course, the matter of her things. Bandages on her blistered toes, she walked to Mark's house to ask for help.
'Assumpta,' he said with a half-genuine smile as he opened the door. He did not invite her inside, but continued to talk to her on the doorstep. 'Are you okay? Peter's been worried sick about you. He said you had no money with you.'
'I'm fine. I found somewhere to stay.'
'That's not very safe.'
'I'm a big girl, Mark.'
'Right.'
'Look, will you do me a favour?'
'What favour?'
'Will you go to your mum's and get my stuff? I've got to get to London for my flight.'
'Flight? You're leaving?'
'Well, yeah.'
Mark sighed.
'Don't you think you're overreacting, Assumpta? You haven't even given him a chance to explain.'
'I'm not interested in what he has to say right now.'
'He never wanted to hurt you,' Mark said quietly, giving an excellent impression of Peter's pleading eyes.
Assumpta clenched her fists. 'Are you going to help me or not?'
Mark raised his eyebrows defiantly. 'You're a big girl, Assumpta. Do it yourself. And, while you're there, talk to him.'
Assumpta grunted angrily and stamped her foot as Mark retreated back inside and closed the door.

As she walked back toward the gate, Assumpta saw a little blonde head pop up from behind a bush in the garden.
'Henrie, were you hiding there the whole time?'
Nodding, Henrie strode over to Assumpta, hands on her hips, and demanded, 'Why are you grumpy with my Uncle Peter? Why are you going home?'
Assumpta sighed, knowing this might be breaking Henrie's heart almost as much as her own. 'Your Uncle Peter did something that upset me very much,' she said gently.
'What did he do?'
'That's not for you to know, Henrie.'
Looking up at Assumpta's face, and squinting against the morning sun, Henrie said, 'But Jesus says we should forgive those who sin against us...'
Her heart melting, Assumpta kneeled down to kiss the littlest Clifford on the forehead.
'No matter what happens, Henrie, I'll always be your friend. I'll come back and visit you, and, when I do, we'll get the world's biggest icecreams, with chocolate chips and whipped cream on top.'
'Promise?'
'I promise.'