SCENE: Early morning. Fitzgerald's upstairs hallway interior.

It is dark. Poppy music sounds down the hall.

CUT TO: Oonagh and Paul's room interior.

The curtains are drawn, dim daylight filters in from outside. Dampened music beat sounds. Paul is lying on his side in bed, holding the pillow over his head with one arm. Oonagh is lying on her other side, eyes squeezed tightly shut. Finally Paul throws the pillow off, flips the cover back and gets up.

He looks on the floor for his slippers: I'll beat some sense into that boy if I have to. It's six a.m. for God's sake!

CUT TO: Assumpta's room interior.

The curtains are drawn, dim daylight filters in from outside. Dampened music beat sounds. Assumpta is lying on her back in bed, asleep. She is alone. She stirs, blinks her eyes, props herself up on her elbow and reaches over to the clock on the night table. She squints at it, replaces it on the table, closes her eyes, sighs in an annoyed way, lies back down and pulls the cover over her head.

CUT TO: Fitzgerald's upstairs hallway interior.

Music sounds in the hall. The interior light is on now. Paul, in slippers and robe, walks angrily to Dermot's room, lifts his hand to the handle, stops and cocks his ear toward the door, listening. He frowns and looks farther down the hall. Apparently the music is not coming from Dermot's room.

CUT TO: Avril's room interior.

Avril, dressed in a coordinated exercise outfit, is doing aerobics in front of the dresser mirror. Music comes from a tape player set on the dresser. The curtains are open to let in the light.

CUT TO: Fitzgerald's exterior. Rainy.

Shot of the hotel windows. All the windows are dark except one. Through it, Avril is visible carrying on with her exercise program.

ROLL TITLES

SCENE: Daytime. Dr. Ryan's examining room interior.

Aisling is lying on the examining table. Siobhan is dressing her. Dr. Ryan is washing his hands at the sink.

Dr. Ryan, concentrating on his hands: You're doing a great job, Siobhan. She seems like a happy baby.

Siobhan smiles: Thanks. It's good to hear that from someone once in a while.

Dr. Ryan turns off the water, reaches for a paper towel, looks at Siobhan as he dries his hands: Now she may develop a slight fever or soreness around the injection site. You can give her a dose of Tylenol if she seems very uncomfortable.

Siobhan nods, picks Aisling up, grunts, to Aisling: Ooh, you're getting heavy.

Dr. Ryan throws away the paper towel, says mock chidingly: Oh, come now. She's nothing compared to some of the sheep I've seen you wrestle with.

Siobhan puts Aisling on her hip, laughs shortly: I'm pretty much out of practice. I've been taking it too easy.

Dr. Ryan raises his eyebrows: Oh?

Siobhan: I stayed away from the heavy jobs during the last few months of the pregnancy, and now I feel that my strength just isn't what it once was.

Dr. Ryan nods, looks down: Some women find that an exercise program helps them get back into form after a pregnancy.

Siobhan shakes her head: I haven't got time for such.

CUT TO: Dr. Ryan's waiting room interior.

Louis is sitting in a chair, waiting for his turn. The door to the examining room opens. Siobhan exits, carrying Aisling. Dr. Ryan follows her.

Dr. Ryan smiles at Aisling, gives her his finger: Bye-bye, don't give your mother a hard time now.

Siobhan: She? Never.
She walks to the outer door.

Dr. Ryan watches Siobhan leaving: I'll see her again in six months for her next set of injections.

Siobhan turns: Thanks, Michael.

Dr. Ryan nods, watches Siobhan leave. Then he turns to Louis: Mr. Dargan.
He signals for Louis to go into the examining room.

SCENE: Noon. Prawn Cracker restaurant interior.

Siobhan and Brendan are sitting at a table. Aisling is lying in her carrier on a chair next to them, holding a bottle. There is food on the table.

Siobhan smiles over at Aisling: She did fine. Just a few tears.

Brendan reaches over and tweaks Aisling: Good girl. Did he say anything else?

Siobhan: Just that she's a happy, normal baby.

Brendan: What else?
(Meaning "And what else would she be?")

Avril approaches their table.

Siobhan: He did mention that I might want to try some exercises.
She takes a bite.

Brendan, curious: What for?
He takes a bite.

Avril: How is everything?

Siobhan swallows, nods, dismissively: Fine, just fine.
To Brendan: Get back in shape.

Brendan stops eating, stares at Siobhan: Of what? A polyhedron?
He gestures vaguely at her: You look the same as you did before.

Avril, trying to ignore the fact that she is being ignored, cheerfully: Can I get you anything else?

Brendan and Siobhan look at Avril as if they have just noticed her there.

Brendan blinks, finally: The check.

Avril smiles: OK.
She turns and leaves.

Siobhan watches her go, then turns to Brendan, indignantly: I may look the same, but I don't feel the same.
She points at her body: I've been through a lot, you may remember. Michael thought I should be able to build up my endurance and strength again.
With emphasis: Which I need in my profession! It's not like I just sit on me arse all morning rambling on about trigonometric tables and verb conjugations, and then slide over to the barstool in the afternoon.

Brendan points in the general direction of Fitzgerald's: I wouldn't get all high and mighty if I were you. There's a barstool over in that pub that nobody else can sit on, it's got your imprint on it so deep.

Siobhan, stony faced, leans over, picks up her nappy bag, and rummages around in it. Finally she pulls out her wallet, opens it, pulls out some notes, and slaps them down on the table, sarcastically: Thanks for dinner.
Then she stands up, hauls the bag over her shoulder, picks up Aisling and her carrier, and stalks away.

Avril returns with the check, sees Siobhan leaving, calls after her: Thank you for choosing the Prawn Cracker!

Sound of door opening and closing.

SCENE: Evening. Fitzgerald's interior.

Louis is sitting at the far end of the bar with a drink in front of him. He appears drunk in a melancholy way. Oonagh is behind the bar, watching him suspiciously. There are a few extras at the bar as well. Camera on Oonagh.

Man calls (off-camera): Pint, please, Oonagh.

Oonagh shifts her attention to the man, goes to serve him.

CUT TO: Louis.

Louis finishes off his drink, places the glass back on the bar with excessive concentration, looks over toward Oonagh, echoes the man, not too loud: Punt, pliesi, Aanegh.
Apparently not having been understood, Louis waves his hand and leans over toward Oonagh, a little louder: Punt, pliesi, Aanegh.
He loses his balance and tips off the edge of the barstool, but manages to catch himself on the bar before actually falling.

The door from the kitchen opens and Assumpta comes out.

Oonagh comes over to Louis, looking stern: That's enough for you.
She picks up his empty glass and puts it down behind the bar.

Louis reaches for the glass, plaintively: Enathir punt, ut wan't da na herm.

Oonagh comes around the bar, takes Louis by the arm, not too gently: Go on with you, it's time you get on home.

Assumpta follows Oonagh, lays her hand on Oonagh's arm, incredulously: Just what do you think you're doing?

Oonagh takes her hand off Louis, turns to Assumpta: He's drunk. He's not getting served any more.

Louis looks from Oonagh to Assumpta.

Assumpta, giving Oonagh a disapproving look: Come on, Mr. Dargan.
She steps past Oonagh and gently takes Louis by the elbow, warmly: Have a seat back here and I'll bring you a sandwich and some coffee.
She guides him to a table off to the side.

Oonagh watches, shakes her head, goes back behind the bar.

CUT TO: Behind the bar.

Oonagh is washing glasses. Assumpta approaches, hisses: Just what was that back there?

Oonagh stops washing, throws the bar towel over her shoulder, puts her hand on her hip, looks Assumpta in the eye: He comes in, orders one drink after another until he's so drunk he doesn't even realize he's asking for more. He doesn't want any more drink, he just forgets how many he's had.

Assumpta: He wants company. I agree with putting a limit on his drink once it's clear he's no longer thinking straight. But to put him out on the street isn't right.

Oonagh, defensively: What would you do, let him fall asleep across the bar?
Sarcastically: Maybe we should set up a field bed for him in the corner.

Assumpta lectures: He's probably lonely and just keeps drinking so he can stay in here among the other customers. A sandwich and a friendly word to see him on his way is much more humane. And good for business. He'll be back again if he knows he's among friends here.

Oonagh raises her hands in a gesture of surrender: If that's the sort of customer you want...

SCENE: Night. Fitzgerald's kitchen.

Leo is eating supper at the table. The door to the pub opens. It sounds busy in there.

Assumpta stands in the doorway, impatiently: I could use a hand out here.

Leo concentrates on his food: Where's Oonagh?

Assumpta, annoyed: You said you'd help out tonight. She's off.

Leo, calmly: You're used to running the place on your own.
He continues eating.

Assumpta, accusingly: What's that supposed to mean?

Leo, mouth full: Just that.

Assumpta, defensively: Look, you're the one who insisted on being a part of the business.

Leo puts his fork down, looks at Assumpta, matter-of-factly: If it weren't for me, this place would have gone under. I'm the one who kept it going while you were off in dreamland.

Assumpta, sarcastically: The way I heard it, Oonagh was the one who kept it going. You were guarding me from some unseen enemy.

Leo: The enemy is real.
He picks up his fork again: I just didn't realize it was you.
He gives her a cold look, then turns his attention to his food again.

Assumpta is shocked into silence.

Brendan's voice (off camera): Assumpta! Service!

Assumpta glances over her shoulder at the pub, calls: Hold on, I'll be there!
She turns back to Leo, gently: Let's just get through this evening, OK?

Leo looks up at her sideways, then looks back down.

SCENE: Night. Fine restaurant interior.

Oonagh and Paul are sitting at a table with food and wine in front of them.

Oonagh: I had a bit of a run-in with Assumpta today.

Paul takes a sip of wine: What about?

Oonagh: That old drunk Louis Dargan. He'd had his fill and I was about to escort him out when Assumpta took it into her head to serve him up a sandwich.
She laughs shortly: Not that he'd ordered one, mind you.
Condescendingly: She just thought she'd like him to hang around a bit longer.

Paul puts down his glass and picks up his fork: I wonder she's managed to stay in business this long.
Looks Oonagh in the eye, seriously: Things ran much more smoothly when you were in charge.

Oonagh looks down, pokes at her food with her fork: Well, I suppose we have to make allowances for her accident.
She shakes her head, sighs: I don't know what she was like before. Maybe the electric shock went to her brain.

Paul shrugs: Maybe.
He narrows his eyes, points his fork at Oonagh: But you can't make allowances where business is concerned.

SCENE: Night. Fitzgerald's interior.

Assumpta follows some extras to the door: Good night. Get home safely.

Extras: Good night, thanks.

Assumpta closes the door behind them, locks it.

CUT TO: Bar.

Leo is behind the bar, cleaning up. Assumpta, on the outside of the bar, brings some empty glasses over, looks at Leo, puts them down on top of the bar. Leo glances up at Assumpta with a poker face, turns his attention back to his cleaning. Assumpta goes to pick up more glasses. Leo silently washes out the glasses.

Assumpta brings some more glasses over to Leo's side of the bar. She starts helping him wash. She glances sideways at him, forced normal tone: Pretty busy tonight.

Leo, flatly: If you say so.

Assumpta, conversationally: Didn't you think so?

Leo, emotionless: I'm a journalist, not a barkeeper.

They continue washing in silence, not looking at each other. The only sound is the clinking of glasses and the running of water. After a while, Leo puts down his bar towel and walks out from behind the bar, without looking at Assumpta, says shortly: I'm going out.
He takes down his jacket from the coatrack, walks over to the door, unlocks it, and exits.

Assumpta watches him, dumbfounded.

SCENE: Night. Assumpta's room interior.

Assumpta is sitting on the edge of her bed, wearing the same clothes from earlier. She is on her cell phone.

Assumpta, hunched over, holds her hand to her forehead, looks down, talks into phone, worried: I don't know, I mean I owe him so much. How he took care of the bar, how he took care of me.
She listens to the phone.
Assumpta shakes her head: I know. That's what makes it so hard.

We hear thumps from the hallway.

Assumpta looks at the door, sits up straight, talks into phone, a little bit quieter, quickly: I think I hear him.
Heartfelt: Thanks for listening.
She listens to the phone.
Assumpta smiles: Right. Goodnight.
She stands up, about to put the phone down, listens again, whispers: Me too. Bye.
She hangs up the phone, quickly goes to her door, opens it, looks out into the hall.

CUT TO: Fitzgerald's upstairs hallway interior.

Shot down the hallway from the vantage point of just behind Assumpta's doorway. Leo is walking along the hall from the stairs toward the guest rooms. He looks up when Assumpta opens her door.

Leo stops at the door of a guest room. He ignores Assumpta, puts a key into the lock and unlocks the door.

Assumpta, sincerely concerned: How are you?

Leo glances over at Assumpta, rudely: What are you still doing up?
He opens the guest room door, goes in.

Assumpta leaves her room, walks over to the other room.

CUT TO: Guest room interior.

Leo enters, takes off his jacket, throws it over the back of a chair.

Assumpta enters, tentatively: Leo, are you OK?

Leo, grandly but without a smile: Fine, fine. Couldn't be better.
He sits down on the chair and starts taking off his shoes. He gestures around the room: Haven't I got the best room in the house?

Assumpta closes the door behind herself, sits down on the edge of the bed, watches Leo sadly. He finishes with his shoes and starts unbuttoning his shirt. He looks at Assumpta, unfriendly: I'm going to bed now, if you've nothing more.

Assumpta, curiously: Why are you here? Why did you come back?

Leo stops unbuttoning his shirt, leaving it half open, exhales sharply through his nose, looks down, thinks a moment, then says: When Niamh called me and told me about your accident, she didn't know whether you were going to make it, so I came down.
Leo glances up at Assumpta: Just in case.
He looks away again: I sat next to your bed. The hours turned into days. Nobody knew what would happen.
Leo looks back at Assumpta, shrugs: The pub needed attending to, and as your husband I was the only one who could sign off on the bills.

Assumpta, insistently: But you didn't need to stay on like you did.

Leo: Spending so much time with you, even though you couldn't respond to me, made me forget everything else. I wanted to forget everything else. The priest had left town. Ex-priest.
He laughs shortly: I thought if you did wake up, we could make a fresh start of it.

Assumpta looks down: I'm so sorry. For everything. I wish I could take it all back.
She looks up at Leo: But I can't.

Leo watches Assumpta intensely: What are you sorry for? For the way you've been treating me since your accident or for everything before?
He pauses, then: Or for marrying me in the first place?

Assumpta: For everything. Before and after.
She looks down again, pauses, then: And for the marriage.
She starts to choke up, looks up at Leo, says quickly: It was wrong of me, I married you for the wrong reasons, and once I realized it, the harm had already been done.
She looks down again, whispers: To both of us. All of us.

Leo stands up, steps over to stand in front of Assumpta. He looks down at her, touches her cheek, softly: I still love you.

Assumpta looks up at him with red eyes, whispers: Leo, I'm sorry.

Leo leans over and kisses Assumpta gently on the mouth. She starts to pull away, but relents and allows him to kiss her once she realizes he doesn't want any more.

Leo stands up straight again, half smiles, wryly: It wasn't all bad, was it?

Assumpta smiles through her tears, tries to be lighthearted: We had our moments.
She reaches out and takes his hand in hers, sincerely: Thank you.

SCENE: Early morning. Paul and Oonagh's rom interior.

The curtains are drawn, dim daylight filters in from outside. Dampened music beat sounds, similar to earlier. Both Paul and Oonagh are lying on their sides in bed, holding a pillow over their heads with one arm.

Paul mumbles: I've had about all I can take. This calls for drastic measures.

SCENE: Daytime. Sunny. Paul's car interior.

Paul is driving along a country road. He sees something through the windscreen, slows down, turns his head to see it better, pulls the car over and stops.

CUT TO: Wide angle shot of country roadside from vantage point of Quigley's house exterior.

Paul's car is stopped at the foot of the driveway. Paul gets out of his car, stands next to it and looks up toward the house. He closes the car door and starts walking toward the house.

CUT TO: Quigley's house exterior.

Paul approaches the house. The garden is overgrown. Paul walks up to the front door and peers through the window next to the front door. The house is dark. Paul steps back and looks up at the roof, starts to walk around the house, inspecting it as he goes.

SCENE: Daytime. Sunny. Farm exterior.

Siobhan's van is parked at the farm entrance. Siobhan has Aisling in a baby carrier on her back and is unloading a vet's bag from the back of the van. She is wearing work clothes: overalls and big rubber boots. Avril, wearing biking shorts and a coordinating windbreaker, approaches on her bicycle. She waves at Siobhan and stops her bike.

Siobhan smiles at her: Hi, Avril, lovely day for a ride.
She puts the bag on the ground and closes the van door.

Avril leans on her bike, looks around: We don't get many like this.

Siobhan hefts her bag: How're Liam and Donal treating you?

Avril, relieved: Much better since Paul Dooley hired on as a consultant. It's almost bearable now.

Siobhan, motherly: You just let us know if those boys give you any trouble. I don't know what Niamh is thinking, leaving them in charge of the restaurant.

Avril leans in closer to Siobhan, confidentially: Actually, Shamie's the one who makes all the decisions. We just let Liam and Donal think they're the bosses.

Siobhan looks up toward the farm: Well, I've got a horse to check on...

Avril, excited: Oh, a horse! Mind if I tag along?
She steps around to the side of her bike and pushes it over to lean it against the fence: My family always had horses.

Siobhan, surprised: They did?

Avril walks up to join Siobhan: Mm-hm.
She reaches up and tickles Aisling's cheek with her finger: Hi, darling. I can hold you while Mummy looks at the horse.

Siobhan and Avril start to walk up toward the farm.

Siobhan, pleasantly surprised: Great!

SCENE: Daytime. Prawn Cracker restaurant interior.

Paul is sitting at a table with several dishes in front of him, eating. Donal is sitting across the table from him, watching him.

Paul, chopsticks in hand, surveys the dishes. He points at one: Too much sauce.
He picks up a piece of meat from another dish, holds it up to inspect it: Too big.
He holds it out in front of Donal's nose: See, if you put such big pieces in, you have to put in more. If you put in lots of smaller pieces, you can use less meat and still have the plate look full.
He eats the piece of meat.

Donal nods, enthralled.

Paul swallows: That way, you can save money. And...
He pauses to pick up another piece of meat with his chopsticks: The less food you put on the plate, the hungrier the customer will be and the more food he'll order.
He smiles, winks at Donal, and eats the piece of meat.

Donal winks back, pretending to understand: That sounds just like what Mr. Quigley would have said.

Paul nods knowingly: Mr. Quigley was a wise man. He knew his way around the business.

Donal: Yep. He taught me and Liam all we know.

Paul looks like he might say something, but then decides not to. He eats some more, takes a sip of wine, then, halfway between a question and a statement: You're keeping an eye on his house, too...

Donal: Mrs. Egan said to keep it in order for her. She left us the keys.

Paul nods, looks at the food again: I talked to her this morning. She said you must have your hands full with the restaurant, and she wanted me to take over looking after the house.

Donal blinks: She did?

Paul looks Donal in the eye: Sure. It's no problem really. One less worry on your mind.
He picks up his napkin and wipes his mouth, pushes his chair back and gestures at the food on the table: My compliments to Shamie.
He stands up: I'll send you my bill.

SCENE: Afternoon. Hendley's interior.

Kathleen is behind the counter.

Fr Vincent steps up to the counter and drops several items onto it: Lovely day.

Kathleen starts picking the items up and ringing them up: Yes, we don't get too many like this at this time of year.

Fr Vincent: They're all like this in Australia.

Kathleen smiles politely yet coldly: Really.

Fr Vincent: Have you ever been outside of Ireland, Kathleen?

Kathleen smiles, satisfied: No.
She is silent for a moment, but cannot keep it to herself any longer, says conversationally: But I'll tell you someone who won't be coming back to Ireland too soon.

Fr Vincent, politely and curiously: Oh? Who would that be?

Kathleen, triumphantly: Leo McGarvey.
She stops ringing up Fr Vincent's purchases to elaborate: Saw him packing up his car this morning and hightailing it out of town. That's the second time he's beaten that retreat with his tail between his legs. I can't understand why he came back in the first place.
She shakes her head, looks down: Such a nice young man.
She narrows her lips, looks at Fr Vincent and hisses: That Assumpta Fitzgerald is poison to whoever gets close to her.

Fr Vincent admits: That's too bad about Leo. I thought he was all right, too. He was trying to do what was right.
He remembers his calling, looks seriously at Kathleen: But we really should not judge others. That is for the Lord in His divine mercy.

Kathleen lowers her eyes, humbled: Yes, Father.
She continues ringing up Fr Vincent's purchases.

SCENE: Afternoon. Sunny. Street outside Hendley's exterior.

Louis is walking carefully along the sidewalk.

Fr Vincent comes out of Hendley's shop, carrying a full shopping bag. He sees Louis, greets him cheerfully: G'day, Louis.

Louis looks up groggily, stops in his tracks, considers a moment, then: Ah. Fethir.
He raises his hand in greeting: Tap af thi marnung ta yao.

Fr Vincent walks closer to Louis, peers at him: How are you doing, Louis?

Louis peers back at Fr Vincent: Semi ta yao, Fethir.

Fr Vincent pulls his head back after getting a whiff of Louis's breath. He puts his hand on Louis's shoulder, concerned: Where are you headed?

Louis points vaguely ahead of him: Jost an mi wei beck ta mi ven, ah...
He looks ahead of him and squints.

Fr Vincent looks in the direction that Louis indicated: Your van? Where did you leave it?
He looks up and down the street.

Louis: Jost cemi unta tawn far e buti, gatte bi gittung beck.
He starts off in the same direction again.

Fr Vincent appears to have spotted something in the other direction: Ah, I think I see it back there.
He catches up to Louis, holds on to Louis's arm, and looks him in the eye: You've gone past it.

Louis frowns: Whet's thet?

Fr Vincent, slowly: I say you've gone right past your van. It's back there.
He points back down the street.

Louis turns and looks, squinting. He starts shuffling along back toward the van.

Fr Vincent accompanies him: Where did you say you've been?

Louis: Stappid un et thi pob far e spat af tie.

Fr Vincent: At Fitzgerald's? You didn't by any chance have a drop with your tea, did you?

Louis grins up at Fr Vincent: Nivir taoch thi stoff.

Fr Vincent: Louis, I'm going to drive you home.

Louis waves his hand in a dismissive gesture: Eh, na, Fethir, U'm funi.

Fr Vincent, agreeably: Sure you are. It's just that I've got the urge to get closer to God, you know, commune with nature, and your place is right up there in the midst of it all. You'd be doing me a favor, really.

Louis seems to find this acceptable. They reach Louis's van.

Fr Vincent opens the passenger door: Now if you'd just hand me the key.

Louis stops, looks confused.

Fr Vincent explains: The ignition key. To the van.
He indicates Louis's pocket.

Louis reaches into his pocket and feels around, pulls out a key, holds it out.

Fr Vincent takes it, helps Louis up into the passenger seat: There you are.
He leans against the open door: Now you wait right here. I'll be right back. Just got to go and get my bicycle so I can get back later.

Louis leans back against the seat, closes his eyes: Teki yaor tumi.
He starts to snore.

Fr Vincent smiles, shakes his head, closes the van door gently.

SCENE: Evening. Fitzgerald's interior.

Assumpta and Oonagh are behind the bar. Brendan, Paul, and Dr. Ryan are at the end of the bar. There are several extras also.

The door opens. Fr Vincent enters, looking flushed and annoyed. He looks around and sees Assumpta. He steps up to the bar and slaps both hands heavily onto the bar, accusingly, to Assumpta: Have you no scruples?

Assumpta shoots right back: I might ask the same of you.

Fr Vincent, taken off guard: What?

Assumpta: The way you indoctrinate innocent people with tales of hellfire and damnation.

Fr Vincent: I don't seem to recall that as having been the topic of any of my recent sermons.
Condescendingly: But maybe I drifted off.

CUT TO: The end of the bar.

Paul to Brendan and Dr. Ryan, deadpans: He wouldn't be the only one.

Brendan and Dr. Ryan chuckle appreciatively.

CUT BACK TO: Behind the bar.

Oonagh: Just what are you on about, Father Vincent?

Fr Vincent, back on track, vehemently: Louis Dargan. I'm just back from driving him home.
He gestures widely behind himself, toward the street: I found him wandering the streets, drunk and disoriented, trying to find his van.

CUT TO: The end of the bar.

Paul: I wouldn't worry about it. In his state, he'd never have found it.

CUT BACK TO: Behind the bar.

Assumpta gives Paul a dark look, turns back to Fr Vincent: And just how exactly is that the fault of my lack of scruples?

Fr Vincent: He'd just come from here. You'd obviously plied him with drink until he was no longer in control of his faculties, then discharged him to his fate.

Assumpta is about to say something, but Oonagh beats her to it.

Oonagh: He's a grown man, Father.

Assumpta looks agreeably surprised, nods, points at Oonagh: What she said.

Fr Vincent, speaking to Assumpta, poking his finger at the bar for emphasis: It is your responsibility as a publican to make certain that customers leaving your establishment do not pose a threat to themselves or others due to their inebriated state.

Assumpta folds her arms across her chest, self-assured: No, it is my responsibility to make certain that my customers enjoy themselves in a clean, safe, and legal fashion.
She points out toward the street: What happens beyond those doors is the responsibility of the individual, the public, and the garda.

Fr Vincent: You may be legally correct, but it wouldn't hurt to be a little more concerned for our fellow man.

CUT TO: The end of the bar.

Brendan, aside to Paul and Dr. Ryan: Here comes the hellfire part.

CUT TO: In front of the bar.

Fr Vincent, earnestly, looking around at the listeners: If we as a community would just watch out for each other, we'd come a whole lot closer to doing God's will.

Assumpta, sarcastically: Well, kumbaya. I'll keep that in mind the next time I come in for confession.

Fr Vincent, to Assumpta: It wouldn't hurt you, you know.

CUT TO: The end of the bar.

Paul makes a wry face, rubs his knee, aside to Brendan and Dr. Ryan: He's not the one on his knees in there.

CUT BACK TO: Behind the bar.

Oonagh looks over at Paul, admonishingly: You know, we could do without the comments from the peanut gallery over there.
She tosses her bar towel at him. He reaches up and catches it with a grin.

SCENE: Night. Fitzgerald's kitchen interior.

Assumpta is taking a tray of hors-d'oeuvres out of the oven. The kitchen door opens. Brendan leans against the doorway, holds the door open with one hand, puts the other in his pocket.

Brendan: I saw Leo packing up his car today.

Assumpta puts the tray down on top of the stove, closes the oven door, removes the oven mitt, and starts gingerly transferring the hors-d'oeuvres to a plate. She avoids looking at Brendan.

Brendan: Is he gone for good, then?

Assumpta, lightly: Easy come, easy go.

Brendan, chidingly: Oh, Assumpta.

Assumpta looks up at Brendan: They can't all be Brendan Kearneys.

Brendan, wisely: Or Peter Cliffords.

Assumpta finishes emptying the tray, picks up the full plate and walks toward the door: Excuse me.
She steps past Brendan into the pub.

SCENE: Night. Assumpta's room interior.

Assumpta is sitting in bed wearing a nightshirt, the covers pulled up over her legs. The reading lamp next to her bed is on. She is holding her cell phone to her ear.

Assumpta, into phone: So we do owe Leo a debt of gratitude.

Assumpta listens, then: You're right. He's been so decent, I can't blame him for, well, anything.

Assumpta listens, then, reluctantly: I think we should still wait a while. It's too soon after Leo's left. People will say I'm dancing on his grave, so to speak. And to tell you the truth, I'd agree with them.

Assumpta listens, smiles, says suggestively: Just remember our afternoon in Siobhan's car.

Assumpta listens, grins: That's what makes it fun.

Assumpta listens, then, softly: Me, too.
She leans over and turns off the reading lamp: I'm going to bed now. Wish you were here.

Assumpta listens, laughs, lies down: Sweet dreams.

Assumpta, softly: Good night.
She hangs up the phone.

SCENE: Morning. Foggy. Country road exterior. Stationary camera perpendicular to road.

Avril, wearing a stylish training suit with long sleeves and long pants, rides her bicycle from right to left through the field of vision. Then the empty road is shown for a few seconds. Then Siobhan, wearing big baggy sweatpants and an oversized grey sweater pedals into view on a bicycle with a baby trailer attached. She appears to be straining.

CUT TO: Farther ahead on same road. Same camera angle.

Avril has stopped her bicycle, is standing straddling it and looking behind her. Siobhan comes into the field of vision. She pulls up alongside Avril and stops also.

Avril: Want to take a break?

Siobhan, breathing hard: If I'd known we were training for the Tour de France, I never would have agreed to join you.

Avril laughs: First time out's always the hardest.
She looks around behind Siobhan: And you're hauling quite a bit of extra weight.

Siobhan, indignantly: Excuse me!

Avril laughs: I meant the trailer.
She offers: Maybe I should pull it for a while.

Siobhan, proudly: Nothing doing. I've always pulled my own weight, and then some, and I don't aim to stop now.

Avril, easygoing: OK, well, how about we head back then.
She lifts herself back up onto the seat of the bicycle, wheels her bike around: This weather isn't so conducive to long pleasure rides anyhow.

Siobhan pushes her bike around before getting back on, mutters to herself: It isn't conducive to anything but a mug of grog.

SCENE: Morning. Fitzgerald's interior.

Oonagh is setting up tables in the pub. Assumpta comes down the stairs.

Assumpta: Morning, Oonagh. Hey, I was wondering if you could cover the bar by yourself this afternoon. I've got an errand I need to run.

Oonagh stops working: Actually, I was going to ask you if I could have the day off.
She grins, bursting with excitement: We're moving house.

Assumpta stops, turns toward Oonagh, asks, confused: Moving? Are you leaving then?

Oonagh, reassuringly: Not leaving BallyK. Just moving into a place of our own.
She sighs, folds her hands and looks up toward the heavens, relieved: Finally.
Then realizing how that might sound, she quickly looks at Assumpta and adds: Not that we haven't enjoyed staying here, it's just--

Assumpta interrupts, understandingly: I understand. It's just not like having a home of your own.
Hopefully: So you'll still be available to help out here?

Oonagh, firmly: Oh, definitely. I love this place. And I certainly wouldn't abandon you now that...
She stops short, aware too late of what she is about to say.

Assumpta, helpfully: Now that I'm an old relic?

Oonagh, hurt: That's not what I meant.

Assumpta, defensively: It was more of a mutual decision. In fact, if anything, Leo got the short end of the stick.
She considers what she just said: No, that didn't come out right either.

Oonagh looks Assumpta in the eye, sincerely: It's all right. You don't need to explain anything to me. It's nobody's business but your own.
She nods toward the kitchen: Now you go on and have some breakfast. Tea's brewed.

SCENE: Afternoon. Dr. Ryan's waiting room interior.

Fr Vincent is sitting in a chair, looking at a magazine. The door to the examining room opens. Frankie steps out, followed by Dr. Ryan.

Frankie: Thank you, Dr. Ryan.
She notices Fr Vincent: Oh, good afternoon, Father.

Fr Vincent stands, reaches out his hand to greet Frankie: Afternoon, Frankie. How are you?
They shake hands.

Frankie: Just a corn acting up. Walking the beat's murder on it. And yourself?

Fr Vincent: Can't complain.

Frankie nods: Lovely.

Dr. Ryan stops in the doorway to the examining room, holds the door open, to Frankie: Well. You just let me know if it gives you any more trouble.

Frankie, walking toward the outer door: Oh, I will. No sense waiting until I'm laid up.

Dr. Ryan: Right, well, you know where to find me.

Frankie smiles and nods: Good-bye, Doctor.
She nods to Fr Vincent: Father.
She turns and opens the outer door.

Dr. Ryan: Bye now.

Fr Vincent: Bye. See you on Sunday.

Frankie leaves.

Dr. Ryan turns his attention to Fr Vincent: Father Sheahan. Come in.
He stands aside and gestures for Fr Vincent to enter the examining room.

Fr Vincent steps over to the doorway, greets Dr. Ryan, smiles: G'day, Michael.

CUT TO: Immediately after. Examining room.

Father Vincent is standing inside the examining room.

Dr. Ryan closes the door to the waiting room behind himself as he enters: How are you, Father?
He gestures to a chair for Fr Vincent to sit in.

Fr Vincent steps over to the chair, sits: I'm fine. I'm here more for information than for an examination.

Dr. Ryan goes to sit on a stool near him: What can I do for you?

Fr Vincent: Is there a local chapter of Alcoholics Anonymous here in BallyK? Or is Cilldargan the closest?

Dr. Ryan rolls his stool over to a file cabinet, opens a drawer, starts leafing through it: No, the last information I had was the one in Cilldargan.
He pulls out a folder, opens it, pulls out a sheet of printed paper, looks at it: Here.
He rolls his stool back over to Fr Vincent, hold the paper out to him: It's a list of all the chapters in the country.

Fr Vincent takes the paper, looks it over, looks back up at Dr. Ryan and smiles: Thanks.
He folds it and places it in his pocket.

SCENE: Evening. Fitzgerald's interior.

Assumpta is behind the bar. There are very few customers, no regulars.

The outer door opens and Siobhan enters: Evening, Assumpta.

Assumpta, pleased: Siobhan! What can I get you? The usual?

Siobhan comes over and sits on a stool at the end of the bar. She slaps the bar top, proudly: A pint!

Assumpta goes to the tap to draw the beer, voice off-camera: Back among the ranks of the living?

Siobhan: She's officially weaned.

Assumpta comes back, places the beer in front of Siobhan: That is cause for celebration.
She leans over across the bartop, watches Siobhan, a smile playing on her lips.

Siobhan raises the glass: This is gonna be good.
She closes her eyes, takes a long, slow sip, then puts the glass down, looking extremely satisfied: That's the stuff.
She opens her eyes again.

Assumpta smiles: We aim to please.
She stands back up straight: I take it Daddy has duty tonight? Now that mammary glands are no longer necessary...

Siobhan looks down at her beer, satisfied: No, actually, Avril volunteered to mind her for an hour while I popped round.
She takes another sip.

Assumpta, taken aback: Avril? You don't mean the waitress from the Prawn Cracker?

Siobhan, seriously: I do.
She leans her arm on the bar top: Turns out she knows her way around a stable.

Assumpta laughs shortly: That'll come in handy if Aisling throws a shoe.

Siobhan gives Assumpta a wise look: What I mean is, we got to talking, and she's all right. She's got me cycling with her mornings to build my endurance back up.
She takes another sip.

Assumpta, congratulatory: Well good for you.

Siobhan puts her glass down, looks Assumpta in the eye, seriously: Listen, I wanted to let you know how sorry I am about Leo.

Assumpta starts to shrug it off, but Siobhan continues: I know it's for the best and it had to come this way, but it still must be a difficult thing for you.

Assumpta looks down, emphatically: I think it's harder for Leo.

Siobhan looks down, too: No doubt.
She takes a sip of her beer. She pauses, then glances over at Assumpta, casually: Have you heard from Peter?

Assumpta smiles shyly: Every night.

Siobhan, surprised: You don't waste any time.

Assumpta, defensively: On the phone! And it was you who set up that secret rendez-vous in your car.

Siobhan, protesting: I just offered my services. It was Paul's idea.

Assumpta: Well, you all went right along with it.

Siobhan takes another sip of her beer, indignantly: I don't recall hearing any protests from you.

Assumpta falls silent, looks around.

Siobhan looks around, too: Where's Oonagh? She got the night off?

Assumpta looks around, too, sighs: Yeah. Paul moved the whole family out today. They've got some place outside of town.

Siobhan, surprised: Really, where? I didn't know anything was on the market. Avril's on the look out for a place of her own, too.

Assumpta shrugs: I didn't ask.

SCENE: Evening. Quigley's house exterior.

Lights are on in Quigley's house.

Grainne's voice (off-camera): Ooh, can I have this room?

Dermot's voice, indignant (off-camera): No way, that's the one I'm taking!

Grainne, plaintive (off-camera): Mummy!

SCENE: Evening. Siobhan's house interior.

Avril is sitting in the living room, holding Aisling on her lap, showing her a book about horses. The doorbell rings. Avril looks up, puts the book down, and stands up with Aisling on her hip.

CUT TO: Siobhan's front door interior.

Avril, holding Aisling, opens the front door. Brendan is there.

Brendan, surprised: Avril.
He looks past her, looking for Siobhan: Where's Siobhan?
He smiles at Aisling and reaches out to touch her hand.

Avril, equally surprised: She's gone to the pub for a bit. I'm minding Aisling.

Brendan, confused: You?

Avril, insulted: What, you think just because I'm working for Liam and Donal I haven't got enough of a brain to take care of a baby?

Brendan, defensively: That's not what I meant. Look, just...
He waves his hand in a dismissive gesture, irritated: Never mind. Just tell Siobhan I was here.
He turns to go.

Avril relents: Hey, I'm sorry.
She reaches out her hand toward Brendan: Wait.

Brendan stops and turns back around.

Avril puts her hand on the door: What did you want? Is it anything I can do?

Brendan: Just stopped by to see my daughter. Siobhan must have forgotten I was coming.

Avril steps back from the doorway, gestures for Brendan to enter: Just because Siobhan's not here doesn't mean you can't come in.
She inclines her head toward the interior of the house: Come on.

Brendan hesitates, then enters the house.

SCENE: Night. Fitzgerald's interior.

The bar is busier. Siobhan is still sitting at the end of the bar with a nearly empty beer glass in front of her. Padraig has joined her. Assumpta is busy behind the bar.

Assumpta approaches the end of the bar: Can I get you another round?

Siobhan: No, I've got to get back. Brendan's supposed to stop by tonight to visit with Aisling.
She drains her glass.

Padraig glances up at the clock: Kind of late, isn't it? Won't she be in bed?

Siobhan looks up at the clock: What time is it?
Shock registers on her face: Holy mother of-- why didn't you tell me the time!
She steps down off the stool: I should have been back half an hour ago.

Assumpta and Padraig exchange an amused look.

Padraig reaches for his glass, joking: That stuff goes straight to her head.

Assumpta calls to Siobhan as she goes to the door, amused: Looks like you've got to build up your endurance again in other areas, too.

Siobhan hurries out the door.

SCENE: Night. Siobhan's living room interior.

Brendan and Avril are sitting next to each other on the sofa, holding a photo album between them and looking at it.

Avril points at a picture, smiles: She's enjoying herself here.

Brendan chuckles: She loves being out of doors.

Avril turns the page. Sound of a door closing. Avril and Siobhan look around, slightly startled.

Siobhan's voice (off-camera): Hi, Avril, sorry I'm late.

Brendan and Avril stand up, Avril still holding the photo album, look toward the door.

Siobhan enters: I lost track of the...
She stops, sees Brendan, continues lamely: Lost track of the time.

Avril, apologetically: Um, Aisling's already in bed. She seemed tired and Brendan said it was her bedtime. We gave her a bottle, too.

Brendan, to Siobhan, accusingly: Where have you been?

Siobhan, haughtily: I've got a right to some time to myself now and again.

Brendan, irritated: We had agreed that I could see Aisling tonight.

Siobhan shoots back: Which you did, apparently.

Avril puts the photo album down on the table, looks uncomfortable, to Siobhan: Look, I'm sorry, I didn't know about your arrangements. I hope it's all right.

Siobhan, to Avril, reassuringly: No, I'm sorry. It was my fault. You didn't do anything wrong.

Brendan, to Avril: Not at all. Aisling enjoyed being with you, I could tell.

Avril smiles, to Brendan, relieved: I enjoyed the evening, too.

All stand around awkwardly for a moment looking at each other and at the floor.

Avril, finally: Well, I should be going.
She slowly starts moving toward the door.

Brendan, quickly: I'll see you home.

Avril shakes her head, protesting: No, no, don't trouble yourself.

Brendan, gallantly: No trouble. A young woman shouldn't be out alone after dark.
He reaches out his arm to guide Avril toward the door.

Siobhan, needling at Brendan, raising her eyebrow: Middle-aged mothers, on the other hand, have nothing to fear, isn't that right Brendan?

Brendan, to Avril: Ignore her. She's obviously had one too many.
They walk toward the front door.

Siobhan follows them, to Avril, friendly: I'm sorry you had to be witness to our domestic bliss. But thank you for watching Aisling.

CUT TO: Siobhan's front door interior.

Brendan and Avril are at the door. Brendan reaches for the doorknob. Siobhan is behind them.

Avril turns to Siobhan, sincerely: Anytime. I mean it. Are we still on for tomorrow morning?

Siobhan rubs her bottom, ruefully: Can I take a rain check? I think I need a day to recover.

Avril: Sure. Just let me know when you're ready.

Brendan opens the door.

Siobhan: I will.

Avril steps outside, warmly: Good night, Siobhan.

Brendan, to Siobhan, civilly: Good night.
He steps outside, too.

Siobhan steps over to the door, waves: Good night. Thanks again.
She closes the door, looks thoughtful.

SCENE: Daytime. Overcast. Car park behind the county youth services center in Cilldargan.

A van is parked next to the building. Several boys, aged 8-12, dressed in various football gear, are getting out in a rough but good-natured way. Peter, wearing casual clothes, gets out of the driver's seat, closes the van door, and comes around to the passenger side.

Peter, cheerfully: Everyone inside now, get changed back into your street clothes and you've got time for a sandwich.

The boys noisily jostle each other toward the building.

CUT TO: Door to building.

Assumpta stands next to the door, wearing a print skirt and a light sweater. She smiles broadly at Peter. The boys pass her, taking little notice of her, and enter the building.

Peter approaches, joy and surprise on his face: Assumpta!

Assumpta can barely contain her smile: Hey.

Peter reaches Assumpta, looks like he wants to eat her up, settles for grabbing her around the waist, pulling her close, burying his face in her hair. Assumpta wraps her arms around Peter's back, closes her eyes, leans against his chest.

After a while, Peter pulls his head back to look at her, still holding her tightly, in wonder: What are you doing here?
He quickly adds, meaningfully: I mean, I'm glad you're here.
He squeezes her waist.

Assumpta squeezes him back, looks down at their embrace: Clearly.

Peter laughs shortly: But I thought you wanted to wait to see each other until a respectable amount of time had passed.

Assumpta, looking up at Peter, about to burst with happiness: Couldn't help myself.

Peter, agreeing, dryly: Clearly.
He nods toward the building: The boys have got me for another half-hour. But after that, I'm all yours.

Assumpta, eyes twinkling: Promise?

Peter leans his head over closer to hers, looks her in the eye, seriously, heavy with meaning: I do solemnly swear...

The door to the building opens and a boy leans out: Hey, Mr. Clifford, Harry won't give Sean his shoes back.
He grins at Peter and Assumpta's situation.

Peter and Assumpta step slightly apart and look at each other conspiratorially.

Peter, to the boy, reassuringly: I'll be right there, Owain.

Owain stands in the doorway grinning.

Peter raises his eyebrows, emphatically: I said, I'll be right there.

Owain still does not move a muscle.

Peter reaches over with one hand and playfully swats at Owain, laughs: Give us a break, will ya?

Owain ducks back inside. The door closes again.

Peter turns his attention back to Assumpta: How long can you stay?

Assumpta: As long as you want.

Peter looks up towards the sky, pretends to think hard: OK, how about...
He looks at Assumpta hopefully: Forever?

Assumpta, pleased, softly: I was hoping you'd say that.

SCENE: Late afternoon. Partly sunny. Avondale Estate Park.

Peter and Assumpta are walking along a tree-lined path, bushes and flowers in bloom all around them. They are holding hands. Peter is carrying a picnic basket.

Peter hefts the basket: What do you have in here? It weighs a ton.

Assumpta, dreamily: A loaf of bread, a jug of wine...

Peter, dryly: Must be one of those Grecian urns.

Assumpta stops, puts her hand on her hip, sarcastically: OK, Atlas, how about setting the world down here.
She points to a stone bench next to the path.

Peter steps over to the bench, gratefully places the basket on it, and sits down. Assumpta stands in front of him.

Peter reaches out and holds both her hands in his: Aren't you going to sit down?
He gently tugs on her hands and guides her onto his lap.

Assumpta sits down on Peter's lap, puts one arm around his neck: Alone at last.

Peter encircles Assumpta's waist with his arms: You're right.
Slightly surprised: I do believe this is the first time since your accident that we've truly been alone together.

Assumpta: How does it feel?

Peter: You tell me.
He leans forward and kisses her on the mouth.

Assumpta, with pleasure: Mmmmm.

They break the kiss.

Assumpta, half smiling: I reckon I could live with it.

Peter: I think that's the point of all our efforts.

An elderly couple approaches on the path, nods politely at Assumpta and Peter. Assumpta and Peter nod and smile back. The couple passes by.

Peter, somewhat abashed: Well, I guess we aren't completely alone.

Assumpta: This is a public garden.
She offers: We could go somewhere else if--

Peter, reassuringly: No, no, it's lovely here. All I care about is that you're here next to me. We could be in the middle of Picadilly Circus.

Assumpta: Yeah, but there, they wouldn't give us the time of day. Here in the back of beyond, we're a little more conspicuous.

Peter, seriously: Does that bother you? I mean, here in this garden we're still fairly anonymous, but back in BallyK, or even in Cilldargan, you're right, we're a feature.

Assumpta, indignantly: Since when have I cared about what other people think?

Peter, emphatically: Since I've known you.

Assumpta starts to protest, but Peter continues: Of course, I'm not talking about people like Kathleen or Father Mac. Although to a certain degree I think it does bother you that they disapprove of you, or of us, otherwise you wouldn't get so worked up about it. But you do care about what your friends think. You told me just the other night you didn't want to be seen as dancing on Leo's grave.

Assumpta, lightly: And here I am doing the tango.

Peter: I'm not complaining. But I've had a little more time to get used to my change in status, and to how people react to it. And of course everybody else has had time to adjust to me not being a priest any more. For you, all these changes have happened so quickly and so recently.
He reaches up and caresses Assumpta's cheek: I can imagine it might feel a bit overwhelming.

Assumpta looks down, shakes her head: I don't want to think about it. I just want to enjoy the evening.

Peter pauses for a moment, then, firmly: Can do.
He lowers his hand and reaches for the basket on the bench next to him, businesslike: Let's see what's really in here.

SCENE: Early morning. Slightly foggy. Country road exterior.

Wide angle. Brendan and Avril are cycling at a leisurely pace next to each other, chatting and apparently having a good time. They are too far away for us to hear what they are saying.

SCENE: Early morning. Siobhan's kitchen interior.

Aisling is sitting in her feeding chair, screaming. Siobhan, wearing pajamas and a robe, is rushing about, trying to get a bottle of formula prepared.

Siobhan tries to comfort Aisling: Shhh, it's all right, darling. Breakfast is coming right away.

Aisling continues to scream.

SCENE: Morning. Overcast. Country road below Quigley's house exterior.

Dermot, wearing school uniform, on his bicycle with school satchel fastened onto the back, barrels full speed down the driveway from Quigley's house. Grainne, also wearing school uniform, is close behind him, similarly on her bicycle. As Dermot turns onto the road, he narrowly misses running into Brendan and Avril, who are cycling past going the same direction (toward town).

Dermot glances back at them over his shoulder, still pedaling, calls: Morning, Mr. Kearney!
He disappears from view.

Brendan and Avril stop short. Brendan looks up the path that Dermot came down, sees Grainne approaching.

Brendan calls to Grainne: Hey, Grainne! What are you two doing up there?

Grainne slows down as she reaches the road, stops in front of Brendan, looks back up at the house, innocently: We live there.
She looks back at Brendan.

Brendan looks at Grainne, flabbergasted: You live--since when?

Grainne: A couple of days. Boy, am I glad to be out of that stinky old pub.
She wrinkles her nose.

Avril chuckles. Brendan looks confused.

SCENE: Noon. Prawn Cracker restaurant interior.

Brendan is sitting at a table alone, finishing up lunch. There are a few other customers.

Avril approaches Brendan's table, friendly: Can I get you anything else?

Brendan pushes his chair slightly back from the table, looks up at Avril: I don't suppose you could sit down for a cup of tea?
He gestures at an empty chair at the table.

Avril, looks around, regretfully: I'd love to, but I've got customers. Another time?

Brendan: Why don't you join us at Fitzgerald's sometime? I don't believe I've ever seen you in there.

Avril, apologetically: I'm not much of one for pubs.

Brendan, trying to convince her: We're all friends there. Maybe you'll come with Siobhan sometime.

Avril shrugs, unconvincingly: Maybe.

Brendan looks at his watch: Well, I'd better be getting back to school.
He stand up, looks at Avril: I'll be at Fitzgerald's this evening, if you change your mind.

Avril smiles: Thanks, Brendan.

SCENE: Afternoon. Fitzgerald's interior.

Assumpta is behind the bar. Padraig is sitting at the end of the bar. There are a few other customers.

The outer door opens.

Fr Vincent enters: G'day all.

Padraig: Afternoon, Father.

A couple of extras sitting nearby also greet Fr Vincent: Hi, Father.

Fr Vincent nods at the extras pleasantly, steps up to the bar opposite Assumpta.

Assumpta, sarcastically: Father Sheahan. To what do I owe the pleasure?
She folds her arms across her chest: Did you find any more of my patrons roaming the streets, menacing the population?

Fr Vincent, conciliatorily: Assumpta. Truce?
He holds out his hand across the bar.

Assumpta does not move to take his hand: Can I get you a drink, Father?

Fr Vincent drops his hand onto the bar: I know you're doing your job, and I'm just trying to do mine. I have something I'd like to discuss with you.

Assumpta, coldly: Go on.

Fr Vincent looks around: Is there someplace...quieter? It's kind of a delicate topic.

Padraig looks down and snorts derisively: I think we've been down this road before.

Assumpta looks daggers at Padraig. She inclines her head toward the far end of the bar, says to Fr Vincent: Down here.

CUT TO: Far end of bar.

Assumpta and Fr Vincent meet at the far end of the bar.

Padraig leans over to look at them, calls cheekily: Sure you don't need a chaperone?

Assumpta calls to Padraig, with exaggerated patience: We'll let you know.
She turns to Fr Vincent, impatiently: So what's this all about?

Fr Vincent, neutrally: What goes on in here when you're not open?

Assumpta, standoffish: Oh, we celebrate wild Bacchian orgies. Why, are you interested in joining in?

Fr Vincent laughs shortly, looks down: I'll pass.
He looks back at Assumpta: I take it that means these rooms are free.

Assumpta, sarcastically: Do you want to use this place as an overflow room during mass?

Fr Vincent: I want to use it for AA meetings.

Assumpta, incredulously: AA? You don't mean Alcoholics Anonymous?

Fr Vincent: Yes, the nearest meeting's in Cilldargan, but I think there's enough need around here to warrant opening a chapter. We'd just need a place to meet.

Assumpta: What about the church?

Fr Vincent, earnestly: I see this as a chance for you to give something back to the community.

Assumpta, indignantly: What, as compensation for all the damage I've done?

Fr Vincent, calmly: If you want.

Assumpta raises her voice, outraged: You've got some nerve. First coming in here and accusing me of all manner of mischief, and then turning around and begging a favour. As if I owed you or any of your poor lost souls anything.

Fr Vincent: I'm sorry you feel that way.

Assumpta, on a roll: And do you really think that a bar of all places is appropriate for an AA meeting? I mean, that's like having Weight Watchers in a sweet shop.

Padraig approaches: I guess you two do need a chaperone. If only to avoid it coming to blows.

Assumpta stares at Fr Vincent resentfully, then whirls around and stalks away toward the other end of the bar.

Padraig, to Fr Vincent: Maybe not the wisest move, Father.

Fr Vincent: I'm just trying to encourage a spirit of community.

Padraig: That's not the kind of spirit this community wants, not from where I'm sitting.

SCENE: Evening. Fitzgerald's interior.

The bar is pretty busy. Assumpta is behind the bar. Oonagh is serving. Brendan, Padraig, and Dr. Ryan are at the end of the bar.

Oonagh picks up an order from Assumpta and walks away.

Brendan leans forward, in a stage whisper: Psst. Assumpta.

Assumpta comes over to the end of the bar, looks questioningly at Brendan: Yeah?

Brendan motions for Assumpta to come closer. She leans over the bar. Dr. Ryan and Padraig lean in to hear also.

Brendan: Did you know that the Dooleys bought Brian Quigley's old house?

Padraig and Dr. Ryan look at each other in surprise.

Assumpta, surprised: I knew they had gotten a place outside of town, but I didn't know it was Brian's.
She turns to look in Oonagh's direction, frowns: Are you sure? I haven't heard anything from Niamh.

Brendan glances at Padraig and Dr. Ryan: I thought it sounded funny. I mean, if Niamh was selling it, you'd think she would have let someone know.

Padraig, innocently: This is the first I've heard of it.

Dr. Ryan raises his eyebrows: Me, too.

Brendan: Well, Dermot and Grainne insist they're living there now.

Oonagh returns, sees the group with their heads together, jokes: Another conspiracy? Do I have to pretend to be ill again?

Assumpta straightens up, asks straight out: Your new house. Is it Brian Quigley's old place?

Oonagh thinks a moment, then: You know, I think it is. Of course, he had already passed away before we arrived, so I never had the honour of meeting him. Paul knew him, though. From earlier. He might even have had his eye on the house, come to think of it.

Assumpta, suspiciously: The whole deal must have happened very quickly. I didn't even know it was for sale.

Oonagh, protesting: Oh, we didn't buy it. We're just renting it.
She explains, proudly: Paul made the arrangements.

Assumpta: Ah.
She looks over at Brendan, Padraig and Dr. Ryan, satisfied: So that's it.

SCENE: Night. Assumpta's room interior/Peter's room in Cilldargan interior.

Assumpta, wearing the same clothes from the evening, is sitting in her chair, cell phone to her ear.

Assumpta, into phone, impatiently: This is silly. I'm not your only friend who lives in this town. You should come and visit whoever you want to. We know we haven't done anything wrong.

CUT TO: Peter, wearing a T-shirt, sitting at his desk, into his phone: Well, there is the small matter of your still being married.

Assumpta is silent.

Peter, carefully: You are still married, aren't you?

CUT TO: Assumpta looks around the room: I haven't had a chance to see a solicitor since Leo left. I guess I was too much of a coward to see one before.

CUT TO: Peter, understandingly: You had a lot of other things on your mind.

Assumpta, voice over phone: I still do.

Peter: Assumpta, I really want to be there for you. I am here for you, anytime. It's up to you to make the next move.

Assumpta, reluctantly, voice over phone: I will, it's just...

Peter prompts: What.

CUT TO: Assumpta, worried: What if Leo fights it? It could drag on.

CUT TO: Peter looks around and up: I think the longer you wait with it, the longer it will take.

CUT TO: Assumpta: And that's just the divorce.
She places her fingertips against her temple: I don't even want to think about going to the church for an annulment.

CUT TO: Peter: Since you didn't get married in the church, your marriage isn't recognized by them. A divorce is all that's necessary.

Assumpta, voice over phone: But I thought it would mean a lot to you...

Peter, firmly: You're the one who means a lot to me. I did the right thing for the church by laying down my collar. Now I want to do the right thing for you.

CUT TO: Assumpta sighs, promises: I'll go and see a solicitor tomorrow.

CUT TO: Peter changes the subject: What kind of reaction do you think I'd get if I came up tomorrow evening?

CUT TO: Assumpta grins: I'll send a brass band to meet you at the station.

CUT TO: Peter grins, too: A simple red carpet will do.

CUT TO: Assumpta: I'll make sure everybody who counts is here.

Peter, voice over phone: I was hoping for some time alone...

Assumpta, teasing: Beggars can't be choosers.
She looks at her watch, sits up on the edge of her chair: Listen, I've got another call to make.

Peter, voice over phone: OK, I'll see you tomorrow then.

Assumpta: Right. Good night.

CUT TO: Peter, wholeheartedly: I love you, Assumpta Fitzgerald.

CUT TO: Assumpta, extremely pleased: I know. Me too.

Assumpta takes the phone away from her ear, holds it in front of her, pushes a button on the phone, waits a moment, then dials another number. She puts the phone back to her ear and waits for it to be answered.

Assumpta, into phone: Niamh? Assumpta. I know it's late, but there's just something I have to ask you.

SCENE: Morning. Foggy, but the sun is breaking through. Country road exterior.

Avril and Siobhan are cycling side by side, slowly. Siobhan has the baby trailer attached to her bike.

Avril: I still feel just awful about the other night. I didn't mean to start a row between you and Brendan.

Siobhan: Look, you've got to know that that's just how Brendan and I are. We're not a couple, and we never were. We're friends, but we're both stubborn as mules and pigheaded to boot. Sometimes we just let our tempers get the better of us.

Avril, glancing back at the trailer, surprised: But what about Aisling...?

Siobhan, defensively: I don't think a little bickering will damage her psyche.

Avril: No, that's not what I mean. I mean, you say you were never a couple, but isn't Brendan her natural father?
She glances over at Siobhan.

Siobhan smiles to herself: Oh, that.
She sighs and explains: Well, you see, Aisling is the product of one friend trying to boost the other friend's self esteem, under the influence of a rather copious amount of alcohol.
She looks over at Avril with a gleam in her eye.

Avril nods to herself, satisfied: That's what Brendan said. But I wanted to hear it from you, too.

Siobhan, curious: Why so?

Avril: I wouldn't want to come between the two of you, where you have a child together and all.

Siobhan, interested: Are you thinking of doing something which might be construed as coming between me and Brendan?

Avril looks ahead, smiles to herself: Not if there's nothing to come between.

SCENE: Morning. Partly sunny. Street in BallyK.

Assumpta walks along the street, carrying a folder of papers clutched to her chest. She stops in front of a house, looks at it, reads the signplate attached to the wall alongside the door, and strides up to the door. She hesitates, then rings the doorbell. She steels herself, then opens the door.

CUT TO: Closeup of signplate.

It reads: "Malcolm Reynolds, Esquire. Family Law. Appointments Only"

SCENE: Afternoon. Partly sunny. Quigley's house exterior.

Shot of the garden in front of the house from the vantage point of the front door. The garden has been trimmed and fresh flowers planted. A car pulls up outside Quigley's house. Niamh gets out, looking irate. She slams the car door and strides up to the house.

CUT TO: Front door exterior.

Niamh pounds on the door. She impatiently tries to peer through the window.

Grainne opens the door, questioningly: Hello?

Niamh, calming down, smiles: Hello. I'm Niamh Egan. You must be Grainne.

Grainne nods: Yes.

Niamh tries to look past Grainne into the house: Are your parents home?

Grainne looks toward the house interior: My Da is, but he's taking a nap. I'm not to disturb him.
She looks back toward Niamh.

Niamh looks Grainne in the eye, kindly: It's all right, sweetheart.
She narrows her eyes and looks toward the stairs, grimly: This is business.

SCENE: Soon after. Quigley's living room interior.

Paul is standing at the house bar. Niamh is standing in the middle of the living room.

Paul, graciously: Can I get you a drink, Niamh?
He reaches for a bottle.

Niamh, coldly: No, thank you, Sean.
She eyes him sharply: Or I guess it's Paul now?

Paul smiles, concentrates on pouring a drink into a glass, says smoothly: What's in a name? A rose is a rose is a rose.
He stoppers the bottle again and picks up his glass.

Niamh mutters: This one's got thorns.

Paul comes around the bar and gestures toward a chair: Please, have a seat.
He sits down opposite.

Niamh remains standing, accuses him: Just what exactly do you think you're doing?

Paul takes a sip, calmly: I haven't the slightest idea what you're talking about.

Niamh, reproachfully: Oh, come off it. I know all about you and my father, may he rest in peace.

Paul blinks, nods: Amen.

Niamh, indignantly: And don't get all holy on me. There was no love lost between the two of you.

Paul shrugs: Maybe not. But he had a shrewd head for business.
Paul gestures toward Niamh with his glass: I reckon you inherited that from him.

Niamh: Don't try to flatter me. I want to know what you're doing in MY house.

Paul: Niamh, please, I really don't see what you're getting so worked up about.
He puts his drink down on the table next to him.

Niamh raises her eyebrows: How about illegal trespass? Breaking in?

Paul, admonishingly: I have the key.

Niamh rolls her eyes: I knew I should never have left Liam and Donal in charge.

Paul smiles condescendingly: Probably not. But if you insist upon bringing the law into it, why did you come round by yourself? Where's your copper of a husband?

Niamh: I reckon this is a personal matter between yourself and myself.
She points out the window: But if need be I will call on the local garda to back me up.

Paul: Now, now, there's no need to bring Ms. Sullivan into this. She's got enough on her pretty little hands enforcing the closing hour at Fitzgerald's.

Niamh, haughtily: In that case, I expect you to vacate the premises immediately.

Paul, disappointed: Oh, Niamh, you can't mean that. Put my family out on the street, will you? And Grainne's settled so nicely into your old room.

Niamh: I take it they know nothing about the "informal" nature of your lease?

Paul: When you were a little girl, did your parents inform you of every detail of every contract they entered into?

Niamh: And your wife?

Paul, innocently: Who, Oonagh?

Niamh shoots back: Do you have another one?

Paul sighs: Oonagh has been so busy filling in over at Fitzgerald's since you left. She was just glad to finally have a place where she could get away from the stench of beer and cigs.

Niamh and Paul stare at each other for a moment, facing off.

Finally, Paul says: You have to admit, this place looks a hell of a lot better now that I'm in charge of it. Your boys were letting it go to pot.

Niamh, unwillingly: Would you be willing to sign a legal lease and pay me a monthly rent?

Paul grins broadly and picks up his drink: I never had anything else in mind.
He raises his glass to Niamh.

SCENE: Evening. Sunset. Street outside Fitzgerald's.

Frankie, in uniform, is strolling along the street. All of the parking spaces near the pub are full. Peter's car passes by and parks at the curb, some ways away from the pub.

Peter gets out, looks up and down the street, greets Frankie as he closes the car door, politely: Evening.

Frankie approaches Peter: Evening, Mr. Clifford. It is Mr. Clifford, isn't it?

Peter: That's right.
He holds out his hand toward Frankie: And you are...

Frankie shakes Peter's hand: Frankie Sullivan. I saw you at Assumpta's homecoming.

Peter remembers: Ah, yes. I'm sorry we weren't properly introduced, but I was a bit...
He searches for an appropriate word.

Frankie suggests: Rushed?

Peter, wryly: You might say that.

Frankie nods toward the pub, raises her eyebrows: You going in for a repeat performance?

Peter, sincerely: I hope not.
He corrects himself: I mean, yes, I'm going in, but I hope things go more smoothly this time.

Frankie: Maybe I'll join you.
She starts walking toward the pub.

Peter, slightly surprised: You're welcome.
He walks next to her.

Frankie, conversationally: You know, I used to be on the Dublin force. I saw a lot of the unpleasant side of human nature.

Peter, politely: I can imagine.

Frankie: Of course, life here is very different than in the city, but human nature remains pretty much the same.

Peter nods in agreement: I would agree.

Frankie: You might be surprised, but in my experience, a large percentage of the violent crime in the city can be attributed to domestic strife. You know, assault, abuse, rape, even murder. Overwhelmingly crimes of passion. The drunken father, the spurned lover, the jealous husband.

They reach Fitzgerald's and stop in front. Frankie looks up at Peter from under her hat.

Peter: It doesn't surprise me at all. I heard my share of stories in my previous vocation.

Frankie: Then it won't come as a surprise to you either when I say that there's only room in a marriage for two people. A third wheel brings bad luck.

Peter, put out: I think I know what you're getting at, Garda. And I don't think it's any of your business.

Frankie nods in acquiescence: You're right about that. But I may have some experience in this area that you as a former priest might be lacking.
She reaches for the door to the pub and opens it, smiles: After you.

SCENE: Immediately after. Fitzgerald's interior.

The pub is full. Oonagh is behind the bar. Siobhan, Brendan, Niamh, Padraig, Dr. Ryan, and Paul are there, along with many extras.

The door opens. Peter enters. Frankie comes in after him and fades into the background. Peter appears surprised and pleased by the large turnout. He is greeted by a chorus of shouts and friendly exclamations. As soon as she spots him, Oonagh goes into the kitchen. People crowd around Peter to shake his hand and pat him on the shoulder. Peter is happy, but distracted: he is looking around for Assumpta. The door to the kitchen opens, and Oonagh, smiling knowingly, reappears. She holds the door open, and Assumpta, looking hopeful, appears, holding Aisling. Assumpta hands Aisling to Oonagh and goes directly over to where Peter is. Peter sees Assumpta and has eyes only for her as she approaches. The crowd parts to let her through and falls silent to watch the reunion.

Assumpta stops in front of Peter, breathless: So you made it.

Peter glances at the crowd: I thought you were kidding with the brass band.

Assumpta smiles self-consciously: Hail the conquering hero.

Peter reaches out and takes both of Assumpta's hands in his, softly, meaningfully: I'm glad to see you.
They stand and look into each other's eyes for a moment. Then Peter looks around, smiles, says louder: You all. It's a real homecoming.

Various calls of "Hear, hear."

Peter looks back at Assumpta: What does a man have to do to get a drink around here?

Assumpta grins: I'll tell you later.
She lets go of his hands and goes behind the bar.

Peter turns around to the others, sees Niamh, opens his arms wide, pleased: Niamh. Don't tell me you came all the way from Dublin.

Niamh: I had some business to attend to. But I'm glad I get to see you, too, Peter.
She comes over and embraces him, inquires with friendly concern: How are you?

They hug briefly and step apart. Peter responds cheerfully: I'm fine. How are you? Where are Ambrose and Kieran?

Niamh: We're all doing fine. They're at home. They'll be sorry they missed you.

Peter smiles, reassuringly: Another time.
He looks toward the end of the bar, raises his hand in greeting, starts walking toward the end of the bar: Padraig! How's business?

CUT TO: The end of the bar.

Padraig and Dr. Ryan are sitting there.

Padraig: Can't complain. Good to see you, Peter.

Peter reaches the end of the bar, takes a stool next to Padraig, claps him on the shoulder.

Assumpta, smiling, arrives with a glass, places it in front of Peter: On the house.

Padraig raises his eyebrows: Now there's a precedent. When will I rate such service?

Assumpta: When pigs fly.
She leans back against the bar.

Mixed chorus of chuckles and sympathetic comments from the bystanders.

Peter, self-satisfied, raises his glass and takes a sip: Oink, oink.

Dr. Ryan: It's about time you showed your face again around here. We were beginning to think you didn't like us.

Peter: Well, I don't, but darned if they don't serve the best stout in the county here.
He grins at Assumpta and takes another sip.

Assumpta, pleased: We aims to please.

FADE TO: Somewhat later. The end of the bar.

Peter, with a half-full glass in front of him,  is sitting on a stool next to Siobhan. Brendan is standing behind them, holding a glass. Assumpta is behind the bar, but hanging out at their end.

Peter, to Siobhan, glances toward the kitchen: How about letting your daughter out of solitary confinement back there so I can say hello to her?

Assumpta: I think she's sleeping.

Siobhan hops down from the stool, proudly: Come on, she's grown two teeth since you last saw her.

Siobhan, Brendan, Peter, and Assumpta go toward the kitchen.

CUT TO: Immediately after. Fitzgerald's kitchen interior.

Aisling is lying in her carrier on the table, sleeping. Siobhan enters the kitchen, followed closely by Peter. Brendan and Assumpta hang back in the doorway.

Peter goes over to the table, leans over Aisling, whispers: She's gorgeous, Siobhan.

Siobhan, proudly: Isn't she just?

Peter turns his head toward Brendan, whispers: I think she's got your eyes.

Siobhan jokes: As long as she hasn't got his ears.

Brendan frowns: What's wrong with my ears?

Assumpta: Nothing, Dumbo.

Brendan reaches up to feel his ears, looks confused.

Siobhan reaches over to pick up the carrier: It's time we were getting you home, young lady.

Brendan: I'll walk with you.

Siobhan looks at Brendan in surprise.

Brendan, to Siobhan, kindly: Middle-aged mothers could use some protection after dark as well.

Siobhan, with mock indignation: Who's middle-aged?

Brendan reaches out his hand toward Peter: It was good to see you again, Peter.

Peter: You, too, Brendan.

Brendan: Don't be a stranger.

Peter: I don't aim to be.

Peter hugs Siobhan with one arm, careful not to jostle Aisling: You take good care of the both of you, now.

Siobhan, conspiratorially: I'll say the same to you.

Peter glances at Assumpta self-consciously: Yeah, I will.

Assumpta holds the door open for Brendan and Siobhan: Bye.

Brendan and Siobhan: Bye.
They leave.

Assumpta steps into the kitchen and closes the door. Peter and Assumpta are now alone in the kitchen.

Assumpta, a smile playing on her lips: I think it's time I demand payment for that stout.
She takes a step toward Peter.

Peter glances at the door behind her, warning: There's still a full bar out there...
He reaches out his hand toward her.

Assumpta: Oonagh can handle it.
She takes Peter's hand in hers, stands immediately next to him.

Peter: I'm sure she can. What I'm not sure of is, can I handle you?
He puts his arms around her.

Assumpta wraps her arms around Peter as well: Why would you want to? You like me untamed.

Peter gives Assumpta a squeeze: Let me put it this way. I'm not sure I can keep myself tamed around you.

Assumpta looks into his eyes, says softly: It won't be much longer.

Peter, his voice thick with longing: Oh, Assumpta.
He presses her body against his, kisses her passionately on the mouth.

SCENE: Night. Street outside the church in BallyK.

There are lights on in the church. Avril is strolling alone on the street. She looks up at the church and stops, listening.

From an open window in the church, we can hear a small chorus of voices reciting, led by Father Sheahan: God, I offer myself to Thee -- to build with me and to do with me as Thou wilt. Relieve me of the bondage of self, that I may better do Thy will. Take away my difficulties, that victory over them may bear witness to those I would help of Thy Power, Thy Love, and Thy Way of life. May I do Thy will always!

ROLL CREDITS