It was still dark in Fitzgerald's but it didn't seem to be deterring the regulars. They were huddling by the light of the windows, laughing over stout, sandwiches and crisps. She should close really, save Ambrose the trouble of shutting her down for the second time in a week, but she needed the money.
And how could she deny herself the chance to watch Peter, looking so relaxed, so at home, talking to Michael, turning every so often to catch her eye, and then turning away again when wild smiles threatened to break loose and give them away.
She steadily dried glasses as she watched and indulged herself in watching him more closely than she ever had before. Even the back of his head held some interest for her. His hair was curlier than he let it be, so close cropped, but it still twisted here and there, like it had a will of it's own, desperate to be released. She smiled to herself at the thought that it was not so unlike it's owner. She wondered if he'd let it off the leash when he was.
She let out a ragged breath as she imagined herself walking over to his table, planting his drink in front of him and a kiss on his lips while her fingers wove through his fascinating locks....
"If that glass gets any cleaner it'll vanish completely."
"I'm sorry?" Assumpta refocussed on the face of the stranger.
"I'll have another diet coke, thanks.... He's good looking."
Assumpta was startled into speechlessness. She gaped for a moment and then turned away to collect herself and fill a glass for the woman.
She took a deep breath and decided to ignore the comment. "That'll be one fifty please."
The woman rummaged in her purse and began again. "Was it love at first sight?"
"What?" replied Assumpta, her hackles beginning to rise and her level of customer service beginning to lower.
"I bet the girls are just queueing up to confess in this town!"
Assumpta was beginning to see red and Carmel was noting the success of her provocation with keen interest. Assumpta stared hard at Carmel, a look that would have frightened away many a meeker customer but had little effect on this one.
"Who are you?" Assumpta asked levelly, still unblinking, her sixth sense informing her something was seriously up.
"My name is Carmel Power, pleased to meet you Miss... ?" She held out a hand but had to lower it again when it was not accepted. "It's OK if you don't want to tell me. I can read it above the door can't I?"
Assumpta was feeling more and more uneasy about this. By the light of the window she could make out Peter's form twisting in his chair, looking their way, and willed him not to get up and come over.
"I'm with the Enquirer."
"The tabloid"
"Yes, but don't worry, I don't write anything sensational, I just write my observations about everyday lives. I'd like to interview you."
Assumpta leaned forward onto the bar.
"And what exactly brought you to BallyK? What were you planning to observe?"
"I'd like to write about your community, your relationship with the young Priest. English isn't he? An English Priest in rural Ireland! I imagine that put the cat among the pigeons when he first arrived. There must be some wonderful stories." Carmel spoke with a lowered voice that didn't match the enthusiasm of her words. Assumpta knew she was being spun a line.
"Drink up." she said. "We're closing." And she stared the woman out until she picked up her hand bag and strolled nonchalantly towards the door.
"You're not supposed to drive the customers away deliberately!" commented Doctor Ryan, getting up as the door swung closed behind Carmel's retreating form.
Peter was already almost at the bar. "Problem?" he asked.
"Journalist" she replied, her voice heavy with meaning and looking him directly in the eye, "and she's got her eye on you."
Ten minutes later, the bar now cleared of customers and Peter felt the need to take Assumpta by the shoulders and frog march her into the kitchen.
"Calm down!" he remonstrated with her.
"Calm down? Calm down!? Peter, didn't you hear what I told you? The Enquirer, Peter! It's not exactly the Catholic Herald is it? That woman is going to ruin our lives! And this is only day one!"
"OK, OK. We'll deal with this, we'll come up with something. It's not as if she'd have any evidence, we haven't done anything yet."
"She doesn't need evidence, it's the tabloids, it's sell papers first, repent at leisure. She knew Peter, I don't know how. She asked if it was love at first sight."
Peter raised an interested eyebrow at that, clearly curious about the answer himself. Assumpta glared back. Then a thought occurred to him.
"Where on earth could she have got that story from? I mean, Father Mac is hardly likely to have broadcast it and I haven't told a soul, have you?"
"Not even Niamh."
"There's a chance some people have guessed, but she's not going to travel here on purpose because there's a rumour the priest fancies the publican is she? My guess is she's here for some reason, she came to the pub, she had a lucky guess."
"You're still wearing the damn suit. It's that collar, without it she'd never have known. Oh, what difference does it make? She's here now and probably pumping Miss Hendley for information this very minute!"
Peter reached up and loosened his collar, twisting his neck as he freed the white plastic tab from around his throat. He looked at it for a moment and then put it in her hands.
"I'm sorry. The suit goes, soon." And with one hand on her shoulder and the other tracing a path along her jawline, he leant his forehead against hers.
"We'll get through this. Even if we make the front page of every paper in Ireland. It's worth it. I love you."
They stayed there, breathing heavily for a long moment and Peter found his eyes drawn inexorably to her mouth. He could no longer remember why he wasn't supposed to do this and he seemed to be getting closer and closer to those lips, and then they said, with that intoxicating voice, "You know what happens next don't you?".
"What?"
"The door will open and it will be Father Mac, two parish Priests and a Bishop!"
There was a knock at the kitchen door. They leapt apart and stared at the opening door in horror and looking horribly guilty, like children with chocolate all around their mouths.
"Ah, sorry Assumpta..... hey, what's so funny? What?"
"Sorry Padraig, it's nothing, private joke."
"Hello Father, I didn't realise you were here." Padraig still looked quite disconcerted, and now he was looking a bit puzzled at the white clerical collar in Assumpta's hands.
"Er, yes Father, I believe I can get this stain out for you." Improvised Assumpta, rubbing at an imaginary smear with her fingernails.
"Oh, oh thanks. That is good news. Thank you."
"Doing your washing for you is she now?" said Padraig a little dubiously. "I thought they made those things out of plastic these days."
"What can I do for you Padraig?" said Assumpta, cutting short any further musings on Padraig's part.
"It's only, I sent you a customer, a woman, smartly dressed. You seen her?"
Peter and Assumpta exchanged a glance.
"Carmel Power?"
"The very one."
"You sent her?" Assumpta was both amazed and annoyed.
"Yes, well she needed somewhere to wait while I looked at her car, but thing is I can't get the parts until tomorrow and I also don't know where she is."
"I threw her out."
"What? Why?"
"None of your business."
Padraig knew when he was out of his depth. "Right you are. You'll let me know if you see her?" He turned and left.
