Pat Tudor

Pat died. She was friends with my mum and dad and she knew me from the day I was born. She was born in Australia but lived in London for most of her life. Every summer from as early as I can remember Pat stayed with us in Sydney. Escaping the London winter she would arrive and fill our house with her beautiful spirit.

When I was in fourth class she helped me to colour in some pictures I had drawn for a social studies project. I watched as she carefully sharpened the pencil and then licked it before she started colouring. She explained that licking the pencil made the colour more vivid, I thought that she was the best colour-in-er-ra I had ever seen.

We would swim in the pool and drive to the beach, afterwards we would shower and we would stand in front of the bathroom mirror and apply moisturiser to our skin and she would comb my hair. She showed me all the exciting bottles and jars that dwelled within her toiletries bag, she sprayed me with perfume and put my hair in french plaits.

She was beautiful, glamorous and exotic and almost six feet tall with long blonde hair and a fantastic smile. I was a lonely child. When she was around, Pat was my friend, she listened to me and talked with me. She would reach out as I walked by and pull me in for a squeeze.

Last month Pat was in Australia and we had dinner together and talked about her friend, my mother, who had recently died. She comforted me and we laughed and shared stories and memories.

Pat died. She fell down the stairs of her home in London. She hit her head and there was nothing they could do to save her. I will miss her. Even though she lived so very far away, I will miss her. Pat brought happiness into my life, into every summer of my childhood.





xox eve xox


Copyright © E Jennings 2010.