Cecelia Ahern 3-Book Collection: One Hundred Names, How to Fall in Love, The Year I Met You. Cecelia Ahern
‘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 we would very much like to achieve this. We have held cake sales, garage sales, all kinds of community events, but sadly we could only raise four hundred and twenty-one euro and nine cent, not enough, so we will do it alone but we need people’s support.’
‘Why do you need the money?’
‘The cost of the adjudication service is between four thousand and five thousand per day, depending on the location. We would have to fly the adjudicator over from London. We have decided not to go through with this idea and so will attempt the record alone.’
‘But isn’t the adjudicator necessary?’
‘No. We can still attempt to make the record and send our evidence to them but they reserve the right not to get back to us.’
‘But we do know of an adjudicator who will be in Ireland this Thursday,’ Achar finally spoke. ‘A friend of ours who works in Cork tells us he knows of a record attempt where a judge will be present.’
‘Achar, we talked about this,’ Jedrek interrupted. ‘We cannot accost a judge for another attempt. It does not work that way.’
‘And I say we at least try, Jedrek.’
They stared at one another.
‘We will discuss this later,’ Jedrek said firmly, then turned his attention back to Kitty. ‘So. Will you write our story, Miss Logan?’
Kitty looked at Tom the photographer. He popped a cherry bakewell into his mouth and examined what else he could eat on the table. She wasn’t even sure if he’d listened to any of that.
‘Let me get this straight,’ Kitty said. ‘You are both unemployed airplane engineers who lost your jobs and as a result of being unable to find work you are attempting a world record at being the fastest two men in a one-hundred-metre pedalo dash?’ She looked from one to the other.
‘Yes, that’s correct,’ Jedrek said sombrely.
Kitty started laughing.
‘I knew she would not take us seriously.’ Achar stood up, angrily.
‘No! Wait! I’m sorry for laughing. You misunderstood. I’m laughing because I’m happy, excited, relieved,’ she grinned. ‘Of course I would love to write your story.’
‘You would?’ Achar asked, surprised.
‘And I think you should attempt your record bid this week, in Cork.’
‘I told you.’ Achar looked at Jedrek. Jedrek didn’t look convinced. ‘What is wrong, Jedrek? This is exactly what you were hoping for.’
He narrowed his eyes at Kitty. ‘Miss Logan says she did not receive our press release and that she was here for other matters. Before I agree to her writing our story, I would like to know what exactly brings her here.’
Jedrek watched the journalist from his seat in the pedalo. She was one of only two reporters who had bothered to show up despite their sending a press release to almost every publication, news and radio board in Ireland. She was standing on the edge of Malahide Estuary surrounded by swans, which were begging her for bread. She was wafting them away and continuing to speak into her phone.
‘What do you think?’ Achar asked, watching his friend. ‘She seems to be interested in us.’
‘Yes,’ Jedrek replied, distracted. She was currently arguing with somebody on the phone – her editor it sounded like – and this was not a good sign to Jedrek, though he didn’t want to worry his friend Achar. She was insisting she would tell her editor something on Friday and not a minute before. Jedrek liked that she was fighting for them – it was about time things moved in his and Achar’s favour – but this lady wasn’t just fighting for them, that much was obvious.
Achar looked at Jedrek with concern. ‘She wants us to break the record by the end of this week. Are we ready to do this in three days?’
‘Achar, we are more than ready. How long have we been training for this, my friend?’
‘Nine months.’
‘And how many days a week have we put into this?’
‘Five days.’
‘Exactly. Did we let the wind or rain, the ice or hail set us off course since we began our training?’
‘No, Jedrek.’
‘Even illnesses. I recall you and I both with flu and coughs and near fever out here in the boat. We have dedicated every free moment we have to this training. Our families, our friends, the boys in the pub and club, the sailing club, they are all supporting us. We are ready for this, Achar.’
‘Yes, Jedrek.’ Achar seemed to raise a few feet in the air as his back straightened and he pulled his shoulders back.
Achar was easily boosted in this way and Jedrek was good at motivational speeches. He had exercised this skill in the long cold winter when they had questioned their motivations and when the pedalo they had trained in had been destroyed by a mob of teenagers. It had been Jedrek who made sure they raised the funding to fix it and continue on. It