One Hundred Names (Special Edition)

grandly, pre-senting the photographer. The photographer pinked as they all turned to look at him with a sandwich stuffed in his face. He mumbled something and then waved.
    ‘Miss Reilly, you know our new arrival? She is a star reporter?’ Jedrek asked excitedly, eyes bright.
    ‘Er,’ Sheila looked at Kitty uncertainly. Kitty held her stare, kept her head up, confidently. ‘Yes …’ She mumbled something and turned her attention back to Jedrek.
    ‘Excellent!’ Jedrek clapped his hands. ‘Miss Logan, you must meet this man beside me. Achar Singh.’ A man of similar age to Jedrek, of Sikh religion, wearing a bright orange turban, nodded and smiled at Kitty.
    Kitty was served a mug of coffee and a shortbread biscuit by a friendly Polish woman.
    ‘My wife, Alenka,’ Jedrek announced happily. ‘The best cook in Poland.’
    The table was filled with food and by the number of chairs set up, they had had high expectations for the turnout. And though only three people had attended, their spirits seemed to be high. Kitty looked up from dunking the home-made biscuit into her coffee to find them all looking at her. She closed her mouth and aborted biting into her biscuit. The soggy end fell into her mug, splashing her chin. She wiped it. ‘Sorry. Aren’t we waiting for more people to arrive before we start?’
    ‘It actually already started,’ the reporter from
Northside People
said, rising from her seat. ‘And finished. I have to get back to the office, so if you’ll all please excuse me …’ The two men stood and extended their hands, and she moved along, wishing them the best of luck. ‘See you later, Tom,’ she said to her photographer, and he lifted his cup to her in farewell.
    ‘When will the article appear?’ Jedrek shouted.
    ‘Oh. Uh. I’ll have to speak with my editor first and I’ll be in touch,’ she said quickly and closed the door behind her. The two men looked at one another, downhearted, then turned their attention to Kitty.
    ‘Okay.’ She put her fresh coffee down on the chair beside her and took out her pen and paper. ‘So I didn’t receive your press release, I’m here on an entirely different matter, but I’m intrigued by what’s going on. Could you please fill me in?’
    Jedrek, the spokesperson, was only too happy to jump in.
    ‘I am from Poland and my friend Achar is from India. We both came to Ireland in search of a better life and we found it. Sadly we lost our jobs when the company we worked for, SR Technics, moved out of Dublin. We were among over one thousand staff who lost jobs within one month. It has been very difficult for us to find more work.’
    ‘What kind of work did you do?’
    ‘SR Technics is an aircraft maintenance company which provides turbine engine hot section component repair services for blades and vanes on large commercial airline engines. Our plant was based in Dublin airport. The company lost major contracts, and that, together with the high cost of operating in Ireland, meant there was no future for them in Ireland. However,
our
future was in Ireland. Our children and families are happy here, our children are in school, our life is settled here. Achar’s son is a star on the under-fourteens’ hurling team, which is why they kindly allowed us to use the hall for this occasion.’
    Achar looked proud. The club caretaker standing by the door with a set of keys in his hand looked bored.
    ‘Congratulations,’ Kitty said.
    ‘Thank you.’
    ‘So …’ Kitty tried to get to the point. ‘Have you some kind of statement to make about your situation …?’ She was interested and moved by their woes but inside she was crying,
not another recession story, please, not another recession story.
    They looked at each other and then back at her. ‘If you would like us to …’ Jedrek said uncertainly. ‘If you think it would help … but we are really just here to talk about our record attempt.’
    ‘Record attempt? You’re making music?’
    ‘No,’ Jedrek leaned in over the table, his eyes lighting up. ‘We are attempting to get into
Guinness World Records
by being the fastest two men in a one-hundred-metre pedalo dash, and we are looking for people’s support to come and join us and cheer us on. This country needs a positive story. We have been training every day – well, as much as possible as Achar is busy with his taxi – but we have been in training for nine months. The local yacht club donated a pedalo in support of our efforts and