One Hundred Names (Special Edition)

explained. ‘They play against teams from surrounding homes once a fortnight. You wouldn’t believe how serious they take it. I love being on driving duty, just so I can hear their tactics, and because I always wanted to be a bus driver when I was a kid, but they rarely let me. Fancy a lift to town?’
    Kitty took her up on her offer and as she sped along the potholed roads that led to the small village of Oldtown, on the back of Molly’s motorbike, she quickly understood why Molly wasn’t often allowed behind the wheel of the bus.
    Sitting in Oldtown, Kitty had over an hour to wait for a bus to the city. Pulling out the list of one hundred names, she pored over it and set to work.
    Magdalena Ludwiczak did not speak enough English to enable Kitty to have a decent conversation with her so she struck her off her list. Number five, Bartle Faulkner, was on holiday for the next fortnight, and she could hear the water lapping on the beach in the background. No, he hadn’t heard from Constance at all, and yes, he could meet up in two weeks when he was home, by which time it would be too late for Kitty’s story. Eugene Cullen, an old man, by the sound of it, told her in no uncertain terms never to call him again, and she left a message for Patrick Quinn.
    Kitty went back to the seventh name on her list.
    ‘Hello?’ The phone was answered in a whisper.
    ‘Is that Mary-Rose Godfrey?’
    ‘Yes,’ she whispered. ‘I’m at work. I’m not supposed to be on the phone.’ The girl sounded about sixteen.
    ‘Okay,’ Kitty whispered, and then realised she didn’t need to and cleared her throat. ‘My name is Kitty Logan. I’m a journalist for
Etcetera.
Perhaps my editor Constance Dubois was in touch with you?’
    ‘No, sorry,’ the girl whispered.
    Kitty sighed and cut straight to the chase. ‘Can we meet?’
    ‘Yeah, sure. When?’
    Kitty straightened up, surprised. ‘Tonight?’
    ‘Yeah, cool. I’ll be in Café en Seine at eight. Good for you?’
    ‘Great!’ Kitty couldn’t believe her luck.
    Mary-Rose hung up before they could arrange anything further like what Mary-Rose looked like or what Kitty looked like. When the bus arrived, Kitty jumped on with a spring in her step. Sitting down next to a man picking his nose and rolling the snot on the ball of his fingers couldn’t even dampen her mood. She examined her phone and contemplated sending Richie a message. She thought of the fun they’d had the night before and she smiled, then used her hand to block her face so that she wouldn’t look like a lunatic. But then she remembered how she’d felt that morning, awkward and cringing at the sight of his naked body. She decided against texting him. She took her notebooks out again; there was much work to be done. Though she had done it before, she Googled Archie Hamilton again, knowing a bit more about him now and what to focus on.
    By the time she reached Café en Seine, she knew exactly why he didn’t want to speak to her, and exactly why she wanted to speak to him more than ever.
    Kitty kissed the list before she entered the pub and thanked Constance again. She was beginning to enjoy this.

CHAPTER TWELVE
    Café en Seine on Dawson Street was a series of bars spanning three floors, a three-storey atrium with glass-panelled ceilings with forty-foot trees reaching to the glass. The style was Parisian art nouveau and it was situated on a bustling street in central Dublin that consisted of restaurants, bars, cafés, the Lord Mayor’s residence and St Anne’s Church. Just a stone’s throw from Stephen’s Green, it was a popular choice for all ages, particularly then, on a Saturday night. Kitty had no idea where she was to meet Mary-Rose, nor how on earth she was to find her in such a gigantic place with numerous bars and darkened hidden corners and alcoves. You could spend a night there not realising that somebody you knew had also been there the entire time. Taking a seat at the main bar on a stool closest to the entrance – which also made her feel like she was in prime position to want to be chatted up – she sat with a glass of wine watching the door.
    Her mind drifted again to the previous night’s exploits. She couldn’t help feeling disappointed that Richie still hadn’t contacted her, not even a text. She wasn’t even sure if she wanted him to, but she was sure that he should. She had definitely given him her number. She remembered little about the night but she did remember that. They had