The Reckoning Part 1

Assumpta moved off in the direction of the kitchen. She wasn't in the least bit surprised to hear that everyone had cheated in the competition - the village was full of chancers.
"Assumpta . . . have you got a minute?"
She turned to see Peter edging his way through the crowd to the far end of the bar.
"Sure," she replied and went over to him He leaned across the bar, his face close to hers.
"I love you," he said.
Assumpta flushed, pleased. "Would you take that thing off before you say things like that," she said, gesturing to his dog collar.
Peter beamed. "I can't help it."
"I know." She smiled at him but her expression changed as the lights flickered and went out . . . again.
"I'll go," called Padraig. Assumpta turned to him. "Thanks," she said, "I seem to have spent the last week down in that cellar. Maybe you'll have more luck." She stood at the top of the cellar steps as Padraig fiddled with the fusebox. "Any joy?" she called down. After a moment, he emerged looking slightly dusty.
"It's no good," he said. "It's had it. Fred Flintstone must have had that wiring put in and there's nothing I can do with it. You'll need the place re-wired."
Assumpta cast her eyes up to heaven. "Oh, great," she said. "And how much is that going to cost?"
"Dunno. I'll get a pal of mine to do you an estimate. He'll do you a good deal. Nothing you can do about it tonight though - it's candlelight or close the bar."
"Looks like last orders then," said Brendan turning to Padraig and Siobhan. "How about we finish this off at your place, Padraig."
"Sounds good," he replied. "Goodnight Assumpta."
One by one the regulars filed out of the bar until Peter and Assumpta were left on their own, surveying the clutter of empty glasses and full ash trays that surrounded them.
"Do you want to wash or dry?" asked Peter, putting on a pair of Marigolds. Assumpta moved to the other side of the bar and began bringing glasses over, piling them on the bar.
"Thanks Peter, you don't have to do this. I'm well used to clearing up after that lot.."
"It's all right, I'm just getting some training in. After all, if I'm no good at the job, you're not going to employ me, are you?"
Assumpta grinned. "I'm not going to employ you anyway."
"What? But you said . . ."
"Peter, don't be silly," her face grew serious. "You have a Cambridge degree, you can't spent your life working behind a bar. It would be such a waste. You can help out here if you want while you sort yourself out but there's so much more that you can do with your life. You should take all the opportunities that you can get."
Peter watched her, surprised at the conviction in her voice. "You're here," he said quietly.
"I know, I'm stuck and that's why I don't want you to be."
"So leave, sell up."
"I can't." She stopped and looked at him. "This pub is about the nearest thing I have to a family. I've tried to sell it in the past - when I graduated I was going to follow Leo to London, but I just couldn't do it. So here I am, still. And, unless the residents of BallyK drive me out then it's here I'll stay."
Peter opened his mouth to comment but Assumpta had started to wipe the tables and obviously didn't want to talk about it any more.
For the next fifteen minutes they worked in companionable silence and soon the bar was ready for the next day.
"I'm glad that's done," Assumpta said. "I dread getting up in the morning, knowing that it's all down here waiting for me."
Peter shuffled nervously. At the mention of the morning, he suddenly had a feeling that he had a momentous decision ahead of him in the next few minutes. "It's getting late . . . " he began. "I suppose I'd better be off."
Assumpta took a deep breath. "D'you want to stay for a while?" As soon as the words were out, Assumpta realised how it sounded. Peter swallowed hard, not knowing what to say. She didn't miss the hesitation. "It's okay Peter," she added hurriedly. "I'm not suggesting that we . . . I just want to spend some time with you . . . that's all."


Later that night, Peter sat on the sofa by the fire He stared blankly into the flames, hypnotised by their activity, his mind wandering.
"Peter . . . ?" Assumpta was standing behind him, holding two mugs of coffee. She handed one to him and sat beside him. For a moment she watched him, trying to read his thoughts. "Are you okay?"
"I'm fine. I just can't believe I'm here . . . with you."
"Ah well now Peter. You see what you can achieve when you stop letting the church make your decisions for you . . . . " She stopped. "I'm sorry, that was thoughtless."
"No . . . you're right. I should have thought more about what I wanted, not what other people expected me to do."
"So where do we go from here?"
Peter pulled her closer to him. "Well, the first step is to tell Fr Mac what I've finally decided. I mean, he knows I was on the verge of a decision, but not the final outcome. Once I've done that, I'll be homeless and penniless and that's when the problems will really start."
"You can stay here."
Peter shook his head. "Thanks, but I'm not sure that's a good idea. I'll sort something out."
"I'm only offering you a guest room not nights of passion . . . yet."
He smiled. "I know. I just think it'll be easier for people round here to accept it if they see that we're doing this properly."
Assumpta was confused. "It's none of their business what we do. We're going to be together, why delay things?"
"We want to stay in BallyK, don't we? We don't want people against us before we've started. It's best to ease them into the idea slowly. That way, there's more chance of them being on our side and giving us a bit of support."
"God!" said Assumpta.
"What?"
"Are you always going to be this reasonable? I really don't think I can stand it."
Peter grinned. "You don't have a choice now. I'm here for keeps, like it or not!" He waited for the inevitable sarcastic reply but there was only silence. "What?"
Assumpta pulled away slightly so that she could look at him properly. "Nothing, it's just . . . . I was wondering . . . . why you became a priest in the first place?"
Peter thought for a minute, not sure how to put his feelings for the church into words. "It was the one thing that I always knew I wanted, ever since I was about 11 or 12. The church was a massive part of my life and I wanted to be a part of it, to give something back to God." He stopped. "I suppose that doesn't make much sense to you."
"I might not be over enamoured with the clergy, but I am still a Catholic you know," she replied. "I can remember what it is like to be inside a church. The only difference is, that I never really felt that there was anything there for me. You're lucky."
"Am I? Look at all of the things I've missed out on."
"And are you sure this is the right decision for you? You've given so much up for me."
Peter shook his head. "But that's just it. I haven't given anything up. With the priesthood, it's that and nothing else. This way, I can have you and still be a part of the church, only it's on my terms not theirs." He reached out and touched her hair, stroking it gently. "I love you."
"I love you too." He bent his head to kiss her and she responded. After a few moments she pulled away. "I . . . think it should be goodnight." Peter nodded. "You're right. We need to take a little time before . . . " He gently kissed the top of her head, then stood up to go.
"Goodnight."


First thing the next morning, Peter made his way up to the parochial house in Cilldargan. He felt unreasonably nervous, after all, Fr Mac could hardly be surprised by what he was about to hear but it still felt like a momentous announcement to Peter. But, it had to be done - last night had finally convinced him of that. Even just spending time with Assumpta, on their own, with no one and nothing else to get in the way had made him feel like a different man. He took a deep breath. In a matter of minutes, he would be a free man and, now that he had made that final decision, it couldn't come soon enough. As he put up his hand to knock on the door, it opened suddenly and Fr Mac appeared, dressed to go out.
"Father Clifford?"
"I'm sorry Father, were you going out?"
The elder man looked at his watch. "Well, I . . . " He registered the look on Peter's face. "I take it that this unexpected visit concerns your decision?" Peter nodded. "Well, in that case, you'd better come in."
Peter followed Fr Mac into the study where he was shown to a seat. Fr Mac sat behind his desk as usual, trying to look as stern as possible. "So, I take it you'll be leaving us."
"I'm sorry, I know you think I'm doing the wrong thing." For some reason, Peter felt as if he had to apologise for his actions. Father Mac shook his head.
"We're losing a good priest, I'm sorry about that." He looked squarely at Peter. "You were a good priest. You know that, don't you?"
Peter nodded. "I . . . felt as if I was doing some good."
"People in this town liked you. You do realise that they might not be so understanding about this."
"It's a chance we'll have to take. I know I've made the right decision for me and I have to think of myself for once. . . I love her."
Fr Mac softened slightly. "Yes . . . I'm sure you do." He cleared his throat, becoming businesslike. "Well, as you've finally made this decision, there are a few things we have to sort out. I'll have to arrange for you to see the Bishop. He'll try to talk you out of it, of course, but I think you're too far gone for that. He will have to give his blessing for you to be released from the priesthood, but you are relieved of your duties as of now."
Peter swallowed hard. "Right."
"It shouldn't take too long. A couple of weeks maybe."
Peter nodded. "Thank you."
"Well, I can't pretend I'm not disappointed, but it's the way of things these days. Where are you going to live?
"I'll think of something. There has to be somewhere round here with a spare room to let."
"You're not staying at Fitzgerald's?" Fr Mac seemed surprised.
"No, we didn't think that was a good idea just yet. We want to take things slowly, make sure that we know exactly what we're doing. I will be working there though."
Fr Mac raised his eyebrows. "Well, I wish you every success in your new career . . . and your new life." He stood up. "Good luck," he said, offering his hand to Peter.
"Thank you."
"I'll let you know when I arrange an appointment for you." He showed Peter to the door and stood in the doorway as he watched the young man walk along the driveway to his car.


Back at the pub, Assumpta was making yet another mug of tea for Noel Quinn, the friend of Padraig's who was down in the cellar sorting out her fusebox. Workmen were a pain, but today he was the least of her worries. She was a nervous wreck, wondering how Peter was getting on with Fr Mac.
She tried to calm herself. They had talked about what he was going to say, it was just a formality. But, before he had left that morning, she had told Peter that he had to make whatever decision was right for him. If that meant staying in the priesthood, then that's what he had to do. When it came down to it, she didn't want him to ruin his life for her, but as time marched on and there was no sign of him, she began to worry that maybe he had decided to stay and couldn't face telling her.
"Ooh God!" she exclaimed as the milk jug slipped from her fingers and smashed on the hard tiled floor.
"Butterfingers," said a voice from the doorway. Assumpta looked up to see Peter grinning broadly. "What have you got against that jug?"
Assumpta abandoned the tea and picked her way over to him. "I thought you were never coming back . . . "
Peter silenced her with a kiss. "Where else do you think I would go?" He put his arms round her waist and held her tightly to him.
"I thought . . . " she started.
"It's fine," he reassured her. "It's all going to be fine." For a moment they hugged, Peter closed his eyes and decided once and for all that he had definitely done the right thing.
"So what happened?" Assumpta pulled away slightly, looking worried. "Well, I told him I was off. He reminded me that the Bishop had to be told, but that he didn't foresee any problems with him, and he released me of my duties there and then. Can I have a job?"
Assumpta smiled. "I'll think about it." Peter gently touched her cheek. "I love you," he said softly.
Assumpta's heart skipped a beat. She didn't think she would ever get used to hearing him say that. "I love you too," she replied. Peter pulled her closer to him and for a long moment they kissed.
"Erm . . . . is this my tea?"
They broke apart to see Noel standing by the sink holding the mug questioningly. "Sorry," he grinned, "but it's thirsty work down there. Any milk?"
Assumpta smiled sarcastically and went to the fridge for a new carton. "How is it looking?" she asked.
"All done. I've had to fit a whole new box. How long'd it been playing you up?"
"A week or so."
"And you're after trying to fix it yourself?"
"Well, just a bit. I didn't realise it was that serious."
Noel winked at her. "Well, you must have the Gods on your side. It's a miracle you didn't get yourself electrocuted - that fusebox of yours was an accident waiting to happen One wrong connection and it would have killed someone.." He started to pack up his tools. "Anyway, it's working a treat now. You shouldn't have any more problems with it." He nodded at Peter. "Bye so," Peter smiled as Assumpta followed Noel out to the bar to sort out his money.
He had just about finished clearing away the broken jug when Assumpta stuck her head back round the kitchen door.
"Well?"
Peter frowned. "Well what?"
"It's 11 o'clock. Are you going to open up or what?"
He grinned. "Coming boss." He stood up and took a deep breath. "Time to roll . . .. " he said to himself.


By lunch time the bar was heaving. The hot weather had brought everyone out of the woodwork for a liquid lunch and Peter was rushed off his feet. His presence in the bar had caused a few raised eyebrows, but Assumpta had managed to fend off the questions skilfully and no one suspected anything other than that Peter was lending a hand to a friend in need.
"Another pint there Father," called Brendan. He watched Peter closely.
"I think we can drop the 'Father' bit while I'm here," said Peter.
"Is this a permanent change of title?" asked Brendan.
Peter stared. Suddenly he realised that Brendan knew. "Can we have a chat when I've finished here?"
Brendan nodded gravely. "I think we should."


Later that afternoon, Peter stood with Brendan on the bank of the river Angel. Brendan was thinking hard.
"But why?"
Peter looked at him, amazed. "Why do you think?"
"No, I mean, why now? You've coped with how you feel for three years. What changed?"
"I did." Peter concentrated on the water, trying to organise his thoughts. "I don't know . . . . my mother's death . . . Assumpta marrying Leo . . . life's too short to be unhappy. I love her. I want to be with her. It's as simple as that."
Brendan nodded. "You may have a point. Assumpta certainly seems happier than I've ever seen her, and God knows she deserves a change of luck." He pulled his rod out of the water and examined it thoughtfully. "You do know that there are a lot of people in this town who care a great deal about Assumpta, even if she doesn't realise it?"
"So?"
"So, you won't be very popular if you cause her even more trouble and then let her down. It's the last thing she needs."
"I know that. I don't intend to let her down."
"Good. That's the main thing. You've told Fr Mac?"
"Yep, he's sorting it all out with the Bishop. As of this morning I'm jobless and homeless."
Brendan was surprised. "Aren't you staying with her ladyship?"
Peter shook his head. "Not yet."
"Well Peter, there's a spare bed at my place if you need it."
"Seriously? It would solve a problem."
"It's yours. Move in as soon as you want. I hope you're feeling brave . . ."
Peter looked at him questioningly.
" . . . because you have got some battle ahead of you two."
Peter nodded. "Don't worry, we know."


That evening, Niamh came into Fitzgerald's and sat herself down at the bar. "Glass of lager please Assumpta."
"Coming up." Assumpta put the glass down in front of her friend who took it up and swallowed half of it in one gulp. She banged the glass down onto the bar and glanced at Assumpta who was patiently waiting with interest for the inevitable explosion.
"How's Peter coping?" Niamh asked finally.
Assumpta felt her blood run cold. "Coping with what? she said cautiously.
"My father, kicking him out again. That man, I swear. He has no principals whatsoever. I don't know what he's at this time and I don't want to know, but making that poor man homeless again . . . "
Assumpta was confused now. "What makes you think he's been kicked out?"
"I went up to the house to check on a few last minute arrangements for Saturday fortnight . . . "
"Saturday fortnight?"
"Kieran's Christening. Some Godmother you're going to make if you can't even remember to turn up."
Assumpta froze. Peter had been released from his duties, which meant he wouldn't be conducting Kieran's Christening as Niamh had insisted. "Oh my good God . . . " she said.
"What?"
Assumpta looked around the bar. "Siobhan," she called. "Would you ever keep an eye on the till for me?"
"Sure." Siobhan looked puzzled but the look on Assumpta's face silenced her. Something was up, that was for sure.
Assumpta smiled faintly. "Thanks." She gestured to Niamh. "We'd better have a chat."
In the kitchen, Niamh sat at the table with and watched as Assumpta made two mugs of coffee and brought them to the table.
"What's going on?" she asked her. "Something's up."
Assumpta took a deep breath. "Em, Peter won't actually be able to conduct the Christening . . . "
"What are you talking about? It's all set!"
"Things have changed . . . " Assumpta felt sick. Of all the people in the village, Niamh was the one she most dreaded telling. She could be a bit puritanical at times and this wasn't exactly the best of times to tell her.
"Assumpta, what's happened?"
"He's . . . he's left the priesthood. He can't take the Christening."
"Left the priesthood?" Niamh was shocked. "Has he been sacked?"
"No!" said Assumpta defensively. "He's . . . "
"My God," said Niamh, realisation dawning. "He's left because of you, hasn't he?"
Assumpta nodded.
"I don't believe it. I just don't believe that the two of you would do something like that!" She stood up from the table her back to Assumpta, then spun round to face her. "You're married!"
"I know that."
Niamh laughed bitterly. "And when were you planning to tell your husband?"
"I haven't thought about that yet."
"Don't you think you should, before you start seducing priests."
Immediately, Niamh regretted that remark, but it was too late. Assumpta was in tears. "That's not fair," she said quietly. "It's not like that."
Niamh sat down again and took her friend's hand. "I thought, when you married Leo, that you had got over Peter."
Assumpta shook her head. "I married Leo to get over Peter."
"Assumpta . . . "
"I can't help it. That's the way it is. I love him . . . he loves me."
"He must." She paused, trying to think straight. "Has he told Father Mac yet?"
"Yes, that's why he's no longer up at the church . . . why he's staying with Brendan."
"Not here?"
"No . . . why does everyone think . . . ?"
Niamh sighed. "Well, that's something, I suppose." She shook her head. "What a mess."
"I know," Assumpta nodded, "but I'm happy, Niamh. For once in my life, I'm really happy."
"You don't look it." Niamh had recovered from her shock and was starting to feel concerned. "Are you sure this is what you want?"
"I've never wanted anything more in my whole life. I've spent three years, trying to put him out of my mind, trying to deal with the fact that I couldn't have the one person I have ever really wanted. Now he wants me as much as I want him and we're going to be together."
Niamh held up her hands in surrender. "All right, I'm convinced. I'm not happy about it, but it was only a matter of time. I can't say the same about everyone else round here though. You're not going to be popular."
"So what's new? Kathleen and Fr Mac will hate me even more, I think I can cope with that."
"Niamh! I think your son would like a word . . ." Ambrose's voice came through the bar.
"I take it you don't want this to go any further?" Niamh stood up to go. "Look . . . I am happy for you, really. It's just . . . it's going to be hard for you both. You never choose the easy option, do you?"
Assumpta shrugged. "Why be dull?"
"I'd better get on. My son will be wanting his tea. I'll talk to you again."
Assumpta got up to follow her out. "Bye." She watched Niamh as she said goodnight to the cronies at the bar. "One down, the rest of the village to go," she said to herself.


Peter came out of the kitchen and handed Assumpta a mug. "Tired?" he asked, collapsing onto the chair beside her.
"Shattered. You must be too."
Peter looked around the darkened bar. "I don't know how you ever did this on your own. No wonder you were so snippy."
Assumpta stared at him, trying not to laugh. "Snippy?" she repeated. "There's only one person to blame for my mood swings, and he's sitting beside me."
"So how do you explain the fights before I came?"
She thought for a second. " . . . Father Mac." She leaned back against him, snuggling against his chest. "Niamh knows."
Peter nodded. "I thought you looked a bit battle weary. How did she take it?"
"As I'd expected. She gave out about Leo, then calmed down. She was just a bit shocked, but she's okay now. Don't now who's going to do the Christening though."
Peter froze. " . . . I'd forgotten."
"So had I. I'm sorry, I know you wanted to do that."
"Too late now. Anyway, I suppose, on balance, it's worth it." He placed his mug down on the table and wrapped his arms round her neck. "Happy?" "What do you think? I still can't quite believe it" She looked up at him and smiled. "You?"
He smiled down at her and kissed the top of her head. "Completely. I can't believe I ever thought I could live without you. I must have been mad."
"Close, you were a priest!"
"Yeah, all right!"
Assumpta took his hands in hers, growing suddenly serious. "So, what now?"
"Well, in a few days I go to see the Bishop which will clear up things from my end. Then we have to think about Leo. When are you going to talk to him?"
"I don't know. It's going to be horrible. I hate myself for what I did to him. He didn't deserve that."
"You didn't mean to hurt him though."
"Doesn't matter. I still did. He's a good man. I care about him a great deal. I shouldn't have used him. I suppose I'll have to tell him the truth, I just don't want to make it any worse for him than it already is. Anyway . . . " Assumpta untangled herself from Peter's arms and stood up. " . . . I am exhausted and so are you. So, I'm going to bed and I think you should go home and get some sleep too."
She pulled him up from the chair and led him towards the door. "Go on, out you go. Goodnight," she said.
Peter laughed. "Oh, you want me to leave then, do you?"
"Correct, bye-bye." She opened the door and pushed him out. "See ya."
Peter stopped in the doorway and pulled her to him, kissing her deeply. "I love you."
"I love you too." She looked at him intensely then pulled away, grinning. "Bye then."
Peter shook his head and walked towards his car, still laughing.
Assumpta closed the doors and stood at the window, watching him drive off. Long after the red Fiesta had disappeared over the bridge, she remained standing at the window staring at the space where it had been.


Across the road, Niamh was watching this from her bedroom window. She had seen the laughter, the kiss and the exchange of tender words and she was touched.
"What are you staring at?" Ambrose was trying to amuse Kieran who had absolutely no intention of going to sleep, despite the lateness of the hour.
"Assumpta. I was just wondering how she is."
"She seems okay to me. Why shouldn't she be?"
Niamh pulled back the covers and got into the bed, taking Kieran from Ambrose. "Because she's having an affair with Peter."
Ambrose sat up straight. "Fr Clifford? Assumpta is having an affair with the curate?"
She shook her head. "Well, no. That's not really fair. It's more than that. He's left the church for her."
"Are you sure?"
"She told me this afternoon. He's staying at Brendan's place. I don't know Ambrose. That girl always seems to make trouble for herself. She has a talent for it."
Ambrose made a face at the baby. "Well, it was only a matter of time, wasn't it, Love? The whole village must know how they feel about each other."
"But they don't know anything for sure. It's best we keep it that way, until they've sorted themselves out at least."
"What about Leo? Does he know?"
Niamh shook her head. "Not yet. Lord knows what Assumpta is going to say to him. He'll be devastated. He really loves her." She got up from the bed and walked into the next room, to place the finally sleepy Kieran in his cot.
Ambrose was thoughtful. "He's her husband. He should be told now, before things get out of hand."
Niamh came back into the room and switched off the lamp, pulling up the duvet over her. "Yes, but it's not our place to tell him."
"No . . . ."
She leaned over and kissed him. "Night Ambrose."
"Goodnight Love," said Ambrose absently.


Peter cleared his throat again and stared at the door beside him. Fr Mac was on the other side of that door, discussing him and Assumpta with the Bishop. It was over half an hour now and Peter had long since given up trying to hear what was being said. He'd find out soon enough. He put his hand in his pocket and brought out the little velvet-covered box that had been burning a hole in his pocket since early that morning. He smiled to himself, thinking what his mother would have to say if she knew what he had spent a chunk of his inheritance on. He opened the lid of the box and stared again at the diamond ring that nestled inside. He had never in his life bought jewellery for anyone, never mind something as important as an engagement ring. Would she like it, he wondered for the hundredth time. He had chosen a very classical style and Assumpta would probably go for something a bit different. He snapped the lid of the box shut. She could always change it, he reasoned. She might not even say yes . . . Suddenly he felt nervous. What would he do if she . . .?
The door beside him opened and Fr Mac came out. "He's ready to see you now." He patted Peter on the shoulder. "Good luck."
"Thanks." Peter nodded nervously and went inside.
Bishop Costello was sitting in a large chair behind a desk. He smiled broadly as Peter approached. "Ah, Peter. Do sit down." He gestured to a chair. "Would you like tea, coffee?"
"No thanks."
"Right, let's get this sorted out. I've spoken to Fr MacAnally. He seems convinced that you have made up your mind to leave us."
"Yes."
"So, there's no point in me giving you the speech, is there? Are you sure about your feelings for this girl?"
Peter nodded. That was one thing he was certain of. "Absolutely," he said.
"And what happens if you are wrong?"
"I'm not."
"What if she's wrong? What if she decides . . ."
Peter was growing slightly angry. "Your Grace . . ."
"Please, let me finish. I'm not trying to change your mind. I just want to make sure that you have thought about all of the options. You are giving up your vocation for this girl. What happens if the relationship doesn't work? You will have given up everything and gained nothing. What will happen then?"
"That won't happen," said Peter. "This is different. I've met women before that I've liked a lot. I even left England because of one of them. If I didn't feel so strongly about Assumpta, I would have left Ballykissangel years ago. I couldn't leave her. I've spent the last three years trying to sort this out in my head. It's not a rash decision."
"I'm glad to hear it." Bishop Costello smiled again and called through to his housekeeper to send in Fr Mac. In a minute, the door opened and Fr Mac came in and sat down.
"Well . . . ?"
Bishop Costello looked to Fr Mac, then back to Peter. "It seems very clear-cut. There's obviously nothing I can say to persuade you to stay?"
"No."
"Then it's just a matter of officially releasing you from your duties. I trust you have accommodation etc. sorted out?"
"I have. There's no problem there."
The Bishop stood up. "Well, that's it." He shook Peter's hand. "We're sorry to lose you, but I really hope that things work out for you. And remember, the church will always be here for you, if you ever need it."
"Thank you. Goodbye."
Peter left the room and waited outside the door for Fr Mac. They walked together back to their cars. Fr Mac turned to face him.
"Well, good luck Peter."
"Thanks."
"You are bound to feel strange, as if you are on your own . . . but we are here for you . . . if you need us."
Peter nodded thoughtfully. "Goodbye Father." With a last look back at the church, he got into his car and drove back to Ballykissangel and his new life.