Extraordinary LIVES
MY BEST FRIEND CHARLOTTE
CHARLOTTE and I met when we were four years old and starting out at our Catholic school, Holy Trinity Convent in Bromley, Kent. Neither of us was Catholic, so we had that in common for a start. We cemented our friendship during the first ballet class at school. Charlotte was taller than most and with incredibly large feet, and I was always messy, with my vest hanging out of my leotard. We shared a zest for life and never stopped giggling. That set the tone for our unbreakable 56-year friendship. We were so close we referred to ourselves as sisters. School was strict but we saw the funny side in everything, even when we got into trouble for our frequent pranks. We were hopeless at domestic science — Charlotte once left a knife in the cake mix and set fire to the oven; the whole school had to be evacuated. On another occasion we locked the caretaker in the potting shed, for a lark. This led to an inquisition in assembly hall and fingers were pointed at us, but there was no evidence. Charlotte was cleverer than me and a natural comic. We spent 12 years at the convent, laughing our way through until, not surprisingly, we were asked to leave at 16. We went to various London colleges (Charlotte did business studies) and afterwards rented a flat in Bromley together. Charlotte worked for a while as a cook on Thames cruise boats, although she
couldn’t cook at all, then got a job as PA to Sir Peter Hall, Director of the National Theatre. But in 1982 she decided to see the world and travelled around South Africa, New Zealand and Australia, doing odd jobs. I had married and started a family by then, so we didn’t see each other for several years. When she came back at the end of the 1980s a mutual friend introduced her to her future husband Pete, who ran his own business. They settled down in Richmond and their daughter Georgie was born in 1997. In about 2002 they moved to Dartmouth in Devon.
Coincidentally, I too moved with my family to Devon and was thrilled that we were living near each other again. Charlotte got a job in admin at a local school and all went well until, ten years ago, she fell ill with cancer. I would drive her to Bristol for medical appointments and to trial new drugs. Having learnt early the art of ‘inappropriate laughter’, we’d spend weekends having fun despite the traumas. We celebrated when she was given the ‘all clear’ in 2019, but unfortunately it was shortlived and the illness returned. We supported each other through dramas throughout our lives. We knew everything about one another, how we felt, what we thought, how we’d react in any given circumstance. Charlotte was unique, beautiful, strong and incredibly brave. I knew the day would come when she would have to leave, I just wasn’t prepared for it. I held her hand and kissed her goodbye. Her illness never defined Charlotte, and she gave it a good run for its money. I’ll always cherish the gift of our friendship.
■ CHARLOTTE HALLJONES, born August 10, 1961; died August 3, 2022, aged 60.