Still alive, knock wood! No backdrops have fallen on my head to date, but after several hours of leaking, a bit of our off-stage-left ceiling did fall in Friday night. (No one was in that wing at the time, mercifully.)

Hope everyone's had a happy Christmas!

CILLDARGAN

Something was wrong with Kathleen's brownie.

It had an odd flavour to it, and bits of something that didn't surrender to the tooth - something almost leafy. Had the priest added sage or some such thing when her back was turned? What on Earth could he have been thinking?

She choked down the first bite; she had cut a small square, so just a few more to go, for politeness' sake. She waited for Father Mac to ask her opinion, but he seemed shy about it. He didn't prompt, he didn't make eye contact. Perhaps he was embarrassed, and rightly so.

If he knew how odd they'd turned out, though, he wasn't showing it. Indeed, he was wolfing down his own bit of chocolate with almost savage élan.

The door knocker beckoned. Kathleen shot Frank an expectant look.

"You don't mind, do you?" he slurred, crumbs bouncing off his lips. He shook the handle of his cane for emphasis, and cut another square of the dense brown cake.

Kathleen opened the front door to Donal Docherty, who shivered wide-eyed on the stoop like an abandoned puppy.

BALLYKISSANGEL

As Kieran and Aisling played dinosaurs in the den, Niamh and Brendan looked on over their teacups.

"Is it normal," Brendan said quietly, "her not talking yet?"

Niamh frowned. Perhaps it wasn't. "Never at all?"

"She'll pick up a word here and there, but..."

"She laughs. Likes to be held, still?"

Brendan nodded.

"Good signs, anyway. Sure you've a late bloomer, is all."

"Slow," Brendan understood.

Niamh furrowed her brow. "I didn't say that."

"But she could be."

"With parents like she has? Probably grow up to be a rocket scientist."

Brendan seemed to sense that he was being patronised. The sulking deepened.

Niamh searched the air for a subject change. "Siobhan's with an old classmate, so?"

Brendan rolled his eyes. "Dick Vet."

It took Niamh a moment to parse this. "Ah."

"What's Ambrose doing?" It was too sharp, how he said it.

"No lookout of mine!" Niamh paused and wrinkled her nose. "Reunion with his mother."

Brendan gulped. "Unmoderated?"

"Gard Sullivan took him." This with a grimace.

Brendan smirked at this. "Sure he's in good hands."

Niamh locked eyes with him. "So, this old flame from Dick Vet-"

"Who said it was an old flame?" Brendan snapped.

This cheered Niamh up a bit. "Right. Course."

She watched as Aisling's triceratops danced across the rug and put a kiss on Kieran's tyrannosaur.

"It wasn't like that, quite," Brendan muttered.

CILLDARGAN

"Why this place?" Assumpta asked, breaking a silence that had lasted the length of the drive.

Peter unfastened his seatbelt and pulled the handbrake. "Because they do take-away." He looked out at the gold characters festooning the red awning; he wondered if they were real Chinese, if they meant anything at all. "Also, because I haven't had anything Far Eastern in three years," he added meaningfully.

She looked at him until he looked back. Then she let herself out, shamefaced. He followed.

"Take-away, so," she murmured.

He nodded, a finger at his lips. Explanations could wait. Should wait. He held the door, and she stepped through, head bowed down.

BALLYKISSANGEL

Benny Sneddon set down his wineglass. The lone last drop snaked its way back down the side.

"Almost forgot," he grinned, laying a bill on the bar between them. "You won our bet."

Siobhan blinked hazily.

"That I'd set out for Ireland before you ever came back to Auld Reekie."

A grin came over her slow and easy: "Right you are. I'd forgotten." She brought her glass even with his, and waited out the subsequent pours. "Never expected either one of us would budge, really."

"Well, that was the beauty of us," he said, dabbing at his mustache for an errant drop. "Hopelessly stubborn to the last."

"Best kind of a vet."

To this he raised his glass.

His pupils bloomed like fireworks as she met his gaze. She reminded herself that he couldn't possibly know this.

CILL NA SIDH WOODS

The metal-handled boxes in the plastic bag were warm and fragrant on Assumpta's lap. She tried to ignore the temptation as Peter searched for a parking spot that would hide the new surrounding developments from view.

Finally, he found one that would - if neither of them looked in the rearview.

Assumpta checked the top box's contents, then passed it along. "Will Ambrose mind his car smelling of MSG tomorrow morning?"

Peter broke his chopsticks apart like a wishbone. "He makes his living in a head-to-toe rabbit costume. He can live with a strong odour."

"Hmm." She opened her own oyster pail and plucked the tiny egg roll off the bed of chow mein, wishing some clever retort would rise up in the steam she inhaled.

It didn't. So she tucked into the meal, trying to embrace the silence. To give it a reason for being.

Here. He had brought her here.