First, a little background information. After due consideration to the amount of work involved versus the return on investment, Paul and Oonagh Dooley have emigrated to America, where Paul is free to make a living with significant income arriving under the table rather than over it with virtually no chance of detection. They intend to keep Dermot completely AWAY from American bars, but Grainne is going to have full access to a riding stable as soon as possible. The family has left DaddyG at Avril's stable for the sake of the mental health of The Cat. Fr. Sheehan has offered Fitzgerald's for sale, and it has been sold, allowing him the luxury of buying the house under St. Joseph's to live in, so he doesn't have to roam the village like a lost soul at night. There have been a few other changes, which will be revealed in due time.

Opening scene: Fitzgerald's pub, the bar. Seated in their regular seats are Siobhan and Brendan, behind the bar is a young blonde woman. The door to the kitchen area is open, and sounds issue from that area.

Orla: "Ah, here come your sandwiches!"

An older woman with auburn hair hands two plates to Orla, who passes them to the diners. She asks: "So, Siobhan, will Aisling have her usual, or do you think you can coax her into something a bit more adventurous?"

Siobhan: "Aisling, honey, time to choose your lunch!"

Aisling: "Macaroni an' cheese, please"

Concurrent sighs from all the adults.......................................

(Opening credits, then the scene shifts to the street outside.)

Walking up the street are two men, both dressed in black, wearing white "band" collar inserts. As one turns to speak to the other, Fathers Sheehan and O'Connell are recognized. Fr. O'Connell speaks: "Terribly sudden, wasn't it, such a shock!"

"Indeed," Fr. Sheehan answers, "I never knew he had any troubles that way!"

"Well," Aidan answered, "he wasn't one to admit any weakness, was he?"

"No, no, I reckon not, not him..." says Vincent

(Scene shifts again, to a bus travelling over hilly roads, then back to the interior of Fitzgerald's.)

The auburn-haired woman is speaking to Brendan: "How long had Fr. Mac had heart trouble, Brendan? You knew him better than most anyone 'round here, right?"

"Well, we worked together more, with the school administration and all, but we were hardly friends, Maggie."

"No, I don't think he was friends with anyone, not after Mr. Quigley left," replies the auburn-haired woman, Maggie. "He and I were about as opposite as two people can be, and he *really* came as close to hating me as he could, given his vocation!"

"I don't think he let his job stand in the way of anything he really wanted, Maggie!" quips Orla.

"No," chuckles Maggie, "I suppose he didn't. Not many do, sadly. Priests!" she scoffs, "well your brother excepted."

"I don't think Aidan ever really *wants* anything that badly, Maggie," Orla responds. "He"s just so *tame*!"

"Oh, he's just a really sweet kid, Orla, and no wonder, he had to counter-balance *you* in the family!" Maggie says, laughingly, and goes back in the kitchen. Brendan and Siobhan finish their sandwiches, helping Aisling finish off her mac n' cheese as well.

"We'll be off, then, back to work!" Brendan says. "Say bye-bye, Aisling!"

"Bye Bye!" says Aisling, waving as she looks backwards over her father's shoulder as he opens the door for Siobhan, and they all leave the bar. Orla waves as well, then turns to go into the kitchen.

"If ya don't mind, Maggie, I'll leave now, and try and catch Aidan at St. Joseph's."

"Sure, go on, Orla, I'll clean up, there won't be anyone in now until evening, I'm sure," Maggie replies.

(Scene shifts to the interior of St. Joseph's. Aidan and Vincent sit, talking.)

"So, how long are you out for, then, Aidan?" Vincent asks

"Long enough for the funeral, and for a few days with Orla, then I'm off home again," Aidan answers.

"Sometimes the peace and quiet sounds plenty nice, mate, but I'd go starkers in a week, betcha!" Vincent laughs.

The door behind the two men opens, Orla enters the church and walks towards her brother.

"So, you two talkin' shop?" she says, plopping down next to her brother in the pew.

"Just askin' how long your brother is staying, Orla," Vincent says as he turns to look at her.

"It is nice to have you around again, Aidan, but I know the house must be crowded, and you have to get back to the monastery, to your duties there," Orla answers.

"Best I've eaten in months, havin' you here, Aidan, I can't believe you can bake bread like that!"

"Oh, well, bread's not that hard, really, you just have to have patience," Aidan answers Vincent's comment, ducking his head at the complement.

"And it's not as if you can't have a hot meal any time at the pub, Fr. Vincent!" Orla says, somewhat affronted. "You don't have to eat your own cooking or junk food, you know!"

"He never eats at the pub?" Aidan asks.

"No, you'd think we'd been closed down by the health inspectors!" Orla answers her brother.

"Ahm, well, I don't feel very comfortable in the pub these days, not since I sold it," Vincent responds to them both.

"When Brian left, Niamh sold it to you, and you bought it with Brian's money that he wired Niamh from South America?" Aidan says, with eyebrows raised.

"It was a right mess all right, and MacAnally after me every minute about how scandalous it was for his curate to own a public house." Vincent shakes his head.

"All he ever cared about what how anything reflected on him and his reputation, never his curate nor his parishoners!" Orla snorts. "Right, then, I'm off home. See ya tomorrow, Aidan?"

"Yes, the Mass starts at ten, Orla." Aidan stands up and hugs his sister.

"Well, Maggie and I will have the food for the wake laid on by eleven, then," Orla says as she goes out the door.

"You a priest and your sister won't go to Mass?" Vincent asks Aidan as they lock the church door, and walk out of the courtyard and down the sidewalk towards the curate's house.

"No, not anymore. Not that Maggie doesn't seem like a nice woman, she's been like a kind of aunt to Orla since she came back to Ballykissangel, but it worries me that she supports Orla in this 'philosophical exploration of Celtic spirituality'." Aidan shakes his head.

"Well, surely everyone needs to have their faith tested, be sure in their own mind of what they really believe." Vincent opens the door of the curate's house, he and Aidan step inside.

"Yes, I know, and Orla's never been what you'd call 'traditional'," Aidan sighs, but Fr. Sheehan fairly barks out a laugh.

Scene cuts to the street in the failing light, as a bus rolls to a stop in front of Hendley's. Several people come off the bus, one is a tallish man, with close-cropped brown hair, in a black suit with a white collar. He carries a backpack over one shoulder. He takes a deep breath, squares his shoulders, and walks across the street towards Fitzgerald's. Interior of Fitzgerald's, only Siobhan and Brendan sit at the bar, having eaten supper. In the sitting room, in front of the fire, Maggie sits curled up in a chair, reading, as Aisling sits on the rug, petting an Irish Setter who lays, staring into the fire. The dog's muzzle is grey with age, but his tail still waves gently as the little girl strokes his silky coat.

"It'll be a quiet night tonight, with what's happening tomorrow," Siobhan states, staring down at her pint.

Maggie gets up, puts her book down, and walks towards the couple in the pub. "Well, it was a very sudden loss, and many of the folks around here never knew any other parish priest, it's natural the community is in shock as well as mourning. Too bad that paper got published too late for Doctor Ryan to warn Fr. Mac about the problem, but that's the way it goes, I guess."

"What paper was that, then?" Brendan asks.

"Non-steroidal anti-inflammatories like ibuprofen, taken for arthritis pain, seem to interfere with aspirin's action when it is being taken for heart trouble," Siobhan answers him.

"Given how much pain he seemed to be in, I don't know but what having a sudden heart attack, all over, game's up, end of the road, wasn't the kindest thing to happen to him!" Maggie says, sitting on a stool. "Not how I want to snuff it, but far from the worst way to go!"

"What's that about a worst way?" asks the brown-haired man as he opens the door of the pub.

"Peter!" Brendan exclaims, as he and Siobhan almost leap to greet and hug Peter Clifford, who puts his pack down on a table, and hugs them both in return. Nearly as quick to Fr. Clifford's side is the old Irish Setter, barking and whining eagerly.

"Well, Finn, if you say so, then he's welcome here, no matter the rest of it," Maggie says, standing up and moving over to the old dog. Fr. Clifford is leaning over, petting the dog, and at her voice he looks up, almost shocked, and asks "Finn...?"

Siobhan answers his implicit question. "Yes, Peter, you see, after Assumpta died, Leo left Finn with Padraig and Kevin, and when they moved to London, they returned him to the Rescue program Assumpta adopted him from."

"And since I was already a volunteer with them, and moving in here, everyone agreed Finn ought to come live here again for the rest of his days. I know he's happy here, or I'd re-home him elsewhere. Honestly, I'm glad of the company, as quiet as it can be here these days." Maggie reaches out her right hand, offering it to Peter, "My name's Maggie MacAllister, I own the pub now, since Fr. Sheehan sold it when the former tenants emigrated. I guess the situation's about par for the historical course, though this time America sent one to you all to replace the four she gained when the Dooleys went there." Maggie smiles.

Fr. Clifford takes her hand. "Peter Clifford, I was the curate at St. Joseph's for about three years."

"Ah, I know the story, Father, I'm very sorry for your loss. I hope you don't mind that I've re-decorated some, though Niamh and Ambrose and the Dooleys all did some, too, though mainly upstairs."

At that point Peter looks more fully around him, and can see many changes, though little major renovation. The pub seems more brightly lit than it was, which lets him see some of the pictures replaced with maps of England, Wales, Scotland and Ireland, topographical maps with no country borders shown. From corners, smiling faces stare out at him, wreathed in leaves, and he recognizes "Green Man" motifs in many of them. Above the bar hangs one large framed photograph, and he winces, it is a large color portrait of the streetfront of Fitzgerald's, Assumpta proudly standing at the door, beckoning guests inwards as she holds it ajar.

Seeing the direction of his glances, and where he pauses, Maggie says, "I'm sorry, if I'd known you were coming for the funeral I'd have taken that down. I found it in the stored things, and had it enlarged, I think it was taken not long after Assumpta's mom died and she came home to run the bar. I can take it down now if you'd prefer."

"No, no, that's okay, I've come to terms with my loss, finally," Fr. Clifford replies, then bends over to stroke Finn's head and ears again, shielding his face and eyes, suddenly shining with tears.

"Ah, no, Father, no one ever comes to terms with losing a soulmate, not really, I know that too well, but still, we pull ourselves up by our bootstraps and get on with it when we have to, I know that too well, too," Maggie says, and turns towards the kitchen.

Finn gets up slowly, and follows her. "Time for your meds, old man, then outside for a final "tank draining" for the evening, eh?" The silky red tail waves as the door closes behind it.

Siobhan and Brendan have been holding Aisling and occupying her to keep her from swarming Fr. Clifford, but as he turns to them the little girl walks towards him and stares up, thrusting a tiny hand upwards. "My name's Aisling, what's yours?" she says, looking him square in the eyes.

"Peter, Peter Clifford, pleased to meet you, Aisling!" he says, smiles wreathing his eyes as well as spread across his mouth. She smiles broadly, Peter has not lost his appeal for children.

Sitting down in a chair, joined by Brendan and Siobhan, Peter soon has Aisling on his lap, and starts the long process of getting "caught up" with Ballykissangel. He is shocked to hear of Ambrose's death, saddened that Niamh has moved away, and simply shakes his head when he hears of Brian Quigley's mysterious departure. Eventually he cannot stifle his curiosity any longer, and, looking pointedly at Siobhan's left hand, raises an eyebrow.

"Well, yes, Father, we dithered back and forth about it, but we did get married last year, after all," Siobhan answers the unspoken question.

"That's wonderful, I'm very happy for you both!" he says, taking her hand and then shaking Brendan's. "And congratulations to you, too, Brendan, on becoming Headmaster, I wish I could have been here to see Fr. Mac's face when THAT happened!"

"Well, Peter, ya could have been, ya know," Brendan replies. "What did you do, then, when you left BallyK?"

"Um, that's a long story, and it's getting late," Peter answers

"And I am guessing that since you came in on the bus and the curate's house is already bulging at the seams with Fr.'s Sheehan and O'Connell, you need a place to stay?" Maggie asks him, returning, with Finn, from the kitchen.

"Yes, yes I do, if you don't mind," Peter tells her.

"No problem, I'll go get a room ready," and she starts up the stairs, slowly, making sure Finn is comfortable and steady as he follows her.

"How in the world did an American woman come to own an Irish pub?" Peter turns to Siobhan and Brendan with real curiosity in his voice.

"That's another long story, Peter, and Aisling's bedtime has come and gone. We need to get home. But we will see you tomorrow? You'll stay for another day or two, won't you, so we can get all caught up?" Siobhan asks him.

"I'll be here for a few days, yes, then I have to take up my new post, too, but yes, we have lots of time for talking," Peter tells them. Brendan gathers a now nodding daughter off Peter's lap, Siobhan drapes her daughter's coat over her shoulders, and they make their way quietly to the door. Peter waves as they drive off, then, by reflex, shuts and locks the doors before he, too, turns to go upstairs.

He meets Maggie in the hallway, she has opened a room near the end of the hall for him, and there is a fire lit in the grate. She motions him towards his room, then says, "I heard you lock the doors, thank you. I leave the back door open, but I do lock the front, to appease Frankie."

"That'll be the new Guard?" Peter asks.

"Yes, Frankie Sullivan, poor girl," says Maggie, shaking her head wryly. "The bath's there, I don't think that has changed locations, though the fixtures have been updated," she tells him. He nods, and says "thanks", then goes in his room and shuts the door, tired enough to let the "poor girl" phrase slip unnoticed past his ears.

Maggie goes back downstairs, and begins to tidy up. Peter Clifford leaves his room to step across the hall, he notices a framed stitchwork piece on the bathroom door with an old-fashioned clawfoot tub, and a poem underneath it that begins, "Sing hey for the bath at close of day...". He thinks to himself that he ought to recognize it, but lets that, too, slide, as he closes the door behind him and starts brushing his teeth at what is obviously a new sink. The light is brighter in here, too, he is sure, and the tub is a deep one, with jet nozzles in evidence, as the shower curtain is drawn back. He finishes in the bathroom and heads back towards his room, but stops, hearing Finn's whines coming from behind a closed door. Just then Maggie comes back upstairs, and says, "Finn must want to come say goodnight to you, too, Father, if you don't mind."

"Sure, that's fine," Peter replies. "He can stay in my room if he wants."

"He'll wake you at least twice to go outside, I'm afraid, Father. He'd better stay with me, I have a doggie door installed in my room, so he can go out on the balcony there," Maggie answers. "Still, he may well want to stay with you, if you want to leave your door ajar, and I'll leave mine open so he can come and go. I am sure he's really happy to see someone who was so close to his last Mom here in the pub again." She opens her door, and Finn nearly bounces out, eagerly trotting over to Peter, eyes smiling and mouth grinning. "Well, old man!" Maggie says, "You are sure sprightly all of a sudden,  seeing your old pal has given you quite a lift, hasn't it?" She smiles, it is apparent in her  face that she loves the old dog a great deal.

"Okay, Finn, come on then," Peter says, opening his door.

"Father Clifford?" Maggie says, "I will take down that photo if it'll be easier on you."

"No, no, that's okay, Maggie, I'll be okay," he replies, nearly closing the door to his room. "Thank you, though, for everything, and goodnight."

"Goodnight," Maggie answers, going to her own door. She leaves her door open also, and says softly, "G'night, Finny," as she turns out her light.

Night falls over Ballykissangel, and the moonlight sparkles on the river's surface. A pale figure stands on the bridge, watching the water flow by.

End credits.