One Hundred Names (Special Edition)

They made their way to the Berkeley Library and asked for Edward Fitzsimons.
    ‘He can’t be disturbed, he’s working on an assignment with a group and specifically asked not to be disturbed.’
    Kitty sighed and stepped back. ‘Let’s go,’ she said to Steve. ‘We’ll have to tell Birdie he’s busy.’
    ‘What, and break that old woman’s heart? She’s going on an adventure of a lifetime – I’m excited and I don’t even know her – and if she was my grandmother I wouldn’t want to miss it.’
    ‘But you heard what she said.’
    ‘Come on,’ he looked at her. ‘Can’t hard-hitting reporter
Katherine
Logan come up with something clever to get him out here?’
    ‘Not any more,’ Kitty said firmly. ‘That’s not who I am any longer. Besides, you hated that part of me.’ She didn’t mean to turn this conversation so serious, not now, not when there was a nursing home bus filled with eleven people and a pedalo waiting for them on double yellow lines, but she couldn’t help it.
    Steve fixed her with that look again, the one from yesterday that sent shivers running down her spine. She tried to shake it away, suddenly uncomfortable. ‘Anyway, it doesn’t matter.’ She turned and left the library.
    ‘Kitty,’ she felt his hand on her arm, ‘I didn’t mean all of those things.’
    ‘Yes you did.’
    ‘Okay, some of them. I meant some of them. But I don’t
hate
that part of you, I just didn’t want it to be
all
of who you are and I felt that’s what was happening.’
    ‘So I’ve taken that on board and I’m never going to be like that again.’
    He looked at her disbelievingly. ‘Of all the days … Can’t you be the wicked lying reporter one last time?’
    ‘So you’re giving me permission now?’
    ‘There’s a time and a place. Do your worst,’ he smiled.
    ‘Okay.’ She straightened up and went back to the desk. ‘Hello again, I’m very sorry to bother you but it’s vital that I speak with Edward. I didn’t want to have to do it like this but we’re here about his grandmother, Birdie. She passed away and we really need to tell him in person.’ Kitty heard an audible gasp from Steve behind her and she tried not to smile as the librarian quickly made her way down the hall to get Edward.
    Fifteen minutes and dozens of apologies later, they were back on the road and Edward had sat beside his grandmother and was asking twenty questions about the trip ahead.
    ‘So you’re sure you’re okay?’
    ‘Yes I’m fine.’
    ‘You’re not … dying.’
    ‘Well, we’re all dying, dear, and I’m probably a lot closer to it than you,’ she teased.
    ‘I wouldn’t say that,’ Molly interrupted. ‘He could go any second.’
    ‘Especially with your driving,’ he shot back. ‘So whose great idea was it to steal the bus?’
    Molly looked away from the mirror and whistled loudly.
    ‘Did you even think to ask me to drive?’ Edward asked.
    ‘Oh, yes, there is nothing more I’d love than to spend four hours to Cork in your honky-tonk of metal.’
    ‘Just because your motorbike is so much more elaborate than mine.’
    ‘At least it doesn’t break down every five minutes.’
    ‘At least I actually know how to drive without putting other people’s lives at stake.’
    ‘What?’ Molly asked, eyes narrowing at Edward in the rearview mirror. ‘What are you looking at me like that for?’
    ‘I’m just wondering why it’s blue. Of all the colours. Blue.’
    ‘I chose it to match your personality,’ she shot back.
    So Edward and Molly were well acquainted with one another, then. Kitty caught Birdie smiling to herself before she turned to look out of the window.
    Kitty stood and made her way to the microphone at the front of the bus. Sam immediately started to whoop and shouted for her to sing, everyone laughed and she had all eyes on her.
    ‘I’m definitely not going to sing,’ Kitty said.
    ‘Trust me,’ Steve called out, and they all laughed.
    ‘I just want to say a few words to you about the trip. I know most of you have no idea what exactly is going on here and I really appreciate you turning up and coming on the journey with me. In fact, to be truthful, it’s all of you who have taken me on a journey.’ She cleared her throat. ‘Sadly, I lost my friend and editor to cancer a few weeks ago and it fell to me to write the story that got away from her. The only clue I had as to what this story is about was all of your names – plus ninety-four other people who