A friendship deepened by despair
‘We always picked up where we left off’
Laying a picnic blanket out next to the River Avon, I spotted my friend, Pat, striding over. ‘There you are,’ she beamed, sitting next to me and pulling out a book. It was 1985 and we’d met when we’d started at the University of Bath the year before. I was in awe of Pat. She was fiercely intelligent and always made me laugh. We were 19, carefree and sure our futures were bright. We had no idea about the tragedy life would later throw at us, or how much we’d need each other.
Pat and I
