Free One Hundred Names by Cecelia Ahern Page A

whatever reasons, choosing to direct her personal unhappiness at him, Tanya talked her old school friend Tracey O’Neill into becoming her accomplice. Tracey had truly believed that Tanya was abused and that her ten-year-old son was in fact Colin’s son. Apart from wanting to support her friend, having been convinced that two people with identical stories would strengthen her case, Tracey also believed there would be a monetary reward for Tanya’s trauma, with magazines keen to tell her story and possibly even television appearances to talk about the abuse she’d suffered. Tanya had shown her friend examples of previous abuse cases in which the victims were paid by the media. One evil young woman and the other bored and twisted had come together to target an overambitious one. Kitty was young and coming up the ranks. They’d known she would be hungry. And she was. She gobbled up their lies and came at them for seconds, talking the editor and producer of
Thirty Minutes
into allowing her to follow the story up, convincing herself that exposing this pervert was all for the greater good of society.
    The front door of Colin’s house opened and he appeared. Head still down as she had last seen him in the courthouse, his chin on his chest. Kitty’s heart hammered wildly and she realised she couldn’t do it. She turned and walked away quickly, hat low over her face, feeling once again an interloper in Colin’s life.
    Not one of her voicemails was returned. Those she had called hadn’t answered, or weren’t home, messages were to be passed on but she couldn’t be sure if they would be. Besides, increasingly people screened their calls and refused to answer if they didn’t recognise a number or it was withheld. Kitty decided that the best way to approach this story was not to contact all one hundred names via the telephone but to try a face-to-face approach.
    On day one of her personal visits she went to Sarah McGowan’s address in Lucan, a ground-floor red-brick block of flats built in the seventies, which looked like it belonged in a retirement community. The balcony door opened beside her at the front door to the flats and a woman in her twenties in a nurse’s uniform stepped out.
    ‘Are you Sarah McGowan?’
    The girl looked her up and down. Made a decision. ‘She moved out six months ago.’
    Kitty couldn’t hide her disappointment.
    ‘No jobs for her here,’ the nurse shrugged, ‘which I understand, but she was supposed to give me three months’ notice. Which she didn’t.’
    ‘Where did she move to?’ Kitty asked hopefully.
    ‘Australia.’
    ‘Australia!’
    ‘Victoria, I think. Or at least that’s where she went first. She had friends out there working on a watermelon farm. They got her a job picking watermelons.’ The nurse rolled her eyes.
    ‘I don’t know, that sounds kind of fun,’ Kitty said, thinking picking watermelons on the other side of the world would be quite the remedy for her situation right now.
    ‘For a qualified accountant?’
    Kitty took her point. ‘Do you have her new number?’
    The nurse shook her head. ‘We weren’t exactly friends. She set up a forwarding address with the Post Office and I sold her crap on eBay. The least she could do for me.’
    ‘Do you know her friends or family?’
    The girl gave Kitty a look that answered everything.
    ‘Thanks for your help.’ Kitty backed away, knowing there was nothing more she’d get from this girl.
    ‘Hey, are you that woman?’
    Kitty stopped. ‘Depends which woman you mean.’
    ‘The TV woman. From
Thirty Minutes.
’
    Kitty paused. ‘Yes, that’s me.’
    ‘You left a message on my phone.’
    It didn’t warrant a response.
    ‘I’ve never seen your show. I just know you from the court case.’
    Kitty’s smile faded.
    The girl seemed to think about it. ‘She’s a good girl, you know. Sarah. Despite what I’ve said about her. Don’t do anything horrible on her.’
    ‘I won’t.’ Kitty swallowed and made her