Cecelia Ahern - One Hundred Names

‘Meet name number six, Bridget “Birdie” Murphy, a woman with unfinished business who turned eighty-five years old and collected on a bet she’d made over sixty years ago with a man, with an entire town, who believed she would never live to see this day.’ Birdie smiled shyly at the audience before her. ‘Birdie is one of the sweetest, gentlest and most inspiring women I’ve ever met and has shared with me a story of true survival, survival that has been rewarded not just financially but most importantly by being fruitful, by being surrounded by people who she loves and who love her. There is nothing boring about that,’ Kitty said to Birdie, remembering Birdie’s embarrassment at having to relate her life story. ‘At eighteen years old, she took a bet and the bet paid off, and it’s a lesson we can all learn from.’

‘Meet name number seven, Mary-Rose Godfrey, carer and proposee, a girl who gives so much and for it, receives a proposal at least once a week.’ Mary-Rose laughed and a tear trickled down her cheek. ‘Mary-Rose’s mother sadly suffered a stroke and because of that Mary-Rose was introduced to the world of the sick. She goes to hospitals to do hair, make-up and sometimes nails,’ Kitty heard Mary-Rose laugh nervously, ‘and through these simple acts she is like a beacon of light to the people who ask for her. But what Mary-Rose doesn’t know is that it’s her and not what she does that lights up the room. It’s the conversation she brings, her mere presence, which has the ability to, albeit momentarily, heal people.

‘And finally, name number sixty-seven, Archie Hamilton. Archie’s beloved daughter, Rebecca, was murdered before her sixteenth birthday. Archie, probably doing what most fathers would do, protected his daughter by seeking out the man who took her life, and took the law into his own hands. For that he spent years in prison but emerged with an entirely new outlook on life. An outlook that is,’ she looked at Archie and smiled, ‘beyond fascinating and illuminating. Archie believed that God wasn’t listening when he needed Him most, he felt forgotten and left behind, and his saviour was to wake up one day to hear the voices of those in need as much as he once was, and have the ability to help answer their prayers.’

Archie’s jaw hardened as he tried hard not to let his emotions show.

Kitty turned away from her emotional group of friends and looked back at her colleagues, some who were deeply moved by her words, by their stories.

‘What I’ve told you about them here is merely an introduction to who these people are. There is so much more for me to say about them, and so much more for you to learn about them. Pete, there are so many fascinating, amazing people out there with stories to tell that they don’t even know are interesting. The stories are endless; we have an entire telephone directory of inspiration. You’ve seen the one hundred names, you’ve seen the people, now I propose that you read their stories in Constance’s final piece: one story dedicated to each name on her list, each month, in a feature titled One Hundred Names . And when that list runs out we randomly select one hundred more.’

Kitty was finished talking and she held her breath for a reaction. There was complete silence. She looked at the others standing alongside her, not knowing what to say. Mary-Rose’s eyes widened, Eva’s cheeks pinked, Birdie reached out to a chair to steady herself.

Suddenly Bob stood up, and started clapping, slowly at first, then it built, and Kitty saw the tears in his eyes and gradually the others began to join in, applauding, Rebecca with excitement and the others with appreciation and even admiration. Kitty looked at Pete and he was smiling, a small smile that was gradually building. He looked along the line of people she had brought into the room and then his eyes rested on Kitty. He smiled at her, nodded at her reassuringly so that she knew she’d done it, she knew she’d pulled it off. Then he joined in, clapping along with the others.

Kitty had never in her whole life felt prouder. She put an arm around Mary-Rose, who was beside her, and instinctively they all grouped together in a circle, the little team that they had become, the friends she had made and who she knew she would remain in contact with, and they hugged collectively as they listened to the applause.

The St Margaret’s Nursing Home bus pulled up to the famous meeting spot dubbed ‘under the clock at Clerys’ where they had all met at the start of their journey. Not yet ready to say goodbye, they remained in their seats in a hushed silence. Each took a moment to gather his or her thoughts, to revel in the experience they had just had, most likely the last that they would share together. Archie was the first to stand. He looked around at the others, the quiet still enveloping them all. He nodded to them, and made his way to the front of the bus. Then they all followed.

Despite their promising to meet again – some had swapped phone numbers, some had even already made dates – Kitty knew that realistically it would be a hard task to bring them all together again, to get every single person back in the same room, or on the same bus. But as she watched them from her window seat all go their separate ways, she knew in her heart of hearts that she would do everything in her power to try. She had ninety-four more people to meet and ninety-four more friends to make, but she knew that this bunch would always be extra special to her, for they had helped change her life, had, in a way, saved her. She would reunite them again. One day.

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

‘This better be good, Archie. I have an article to write, remember?’ Kitty said, as she met him outside the Brick Alley Café on Sunday morning. He had called her late the previous night after they’d all eventually got home and had a day to think about all that they’d seen, done and achieved. Steve had finally left Kitty’s flat to give her time to settle down to write her article, when Archie had called her and requested they meet urgently. She had no idea what to expect but she was ready for anything now.

‘It’s good, trust me,’ he said, smiling.

‘Where’s Regina?’

‘It’s Sunday morning, where do you think?’

‘Ah, church,’ she guessed. ‘And you don’t want to be there?’

He shook his head.

‘Changed your mind about helping people?’

‘Not really,’ he replied. ‘I’ve decided to help some people. Which is why I called you here.’

‘Me? I don’t pray,’ she laughed nervously.

‘I’m not too sure about that, Kitty,’ he said softly. ‘There was one thing coming through loud and clear to me.’

Kitty swallowed, completely uncertain as to where this was going.

‘There’s someone in there who wants to talk to you,’ Archie said, turning to face the café.

‘Who?’ Her heart drummed maniacally in her chest.

‘Take a look.’

She looked through the glass and there, sitting on the stool facing the wall with the blackboard saying ‘Every table has a story to tell’, was a man whose back was turned. Instinctively, as if he knew they were looking at him, he looked around and Kitty gasped.

Colin Maguire.

‘Archie,’ she whispered, suddenly terrified. ‘What have you done?’

‘All you want is for him to forgive you, am I right?’ he asked gently.

She swallowed and nodded.

‘I contacted him yesterday. He was happy to hear from me, said he’d wanted to see you too.’

‘He did, so he can kill me,’ she said, voice shaking.

‘No. I think he wants closure too, Kitty. Go on in. You’ve nothing to lose.’

Kitty looked at Archie, unsure whether to hit him or thank him, but knew that what he’d done had been from the goodness of his heart.