Charlotte – Personal Memories
James Terry, 30 May 2005
Prepared for Charlotte’s prayers
I remember clearly the first time Char and I met. It was autumn 1990, Leeds University. Charlotte was wearing tartan. Funny that.
The following year, 1991, we moved into 88 Harold Terrace together where we shared the top of the house for two years. Lots of memories during that time. Thursday nights was soul & funk at Rikky’s nightclub- Char’s favourite was Stevie Wonder. We had no central heating in those days and Char was always cold. Something she always said she shared with Sophie from being so small when they were born. Char took me under her wing and cooked for me nearly every night – what she could do with fish-fingers and pitta bread was quite amazing. I won’t mention the numerous admirers, but if you hadn’t heard there was one called Trevor. Next time you’re chatting with her, don’t forget to tease her about it.
In 1993 most of us left Leeds, and Char went to spend the summer in New York. Who was this record producer she had met. What on earth was she thinking?
By
1995 she had moved out there to be with him. New York was the last stop
on my trip around the world and I borrowed the sofa in their Chelsea
apartment. Martin was actually back in London making a recording and
Charlotte and I hung out. She was very good at that, hanging out, and
New York was made for it. She took me to what is my favourite place
there – the roof garden on the top of the Metropolitan museum. If you
haven’t been there you must go. When you do, and look across the
rooftops of that incredible city, think of her, and how she so enjoyed
that place.
I did get to meet Martin before I left New York – I can’t quite recall whether it was at a deli for pastrami on rye, a place in Little Italy with red and white table cloths, or their favourite sushi bar right by where they lived. It doesn’t matter now. They captured the vibe of that place and lived it to the full. It was clear to me what they shared in common, what she saw in Martin, and why they were a perfect match.
1997 was a big year. Firstly their return. We were all so glad to have Charlotte back. Then the wedding – Charlotte so radiant, a gorgeous day in the garden in Nottingham, and of course there was sushi. They then set up home at No. 7 Plympton Road. I have many fond memories of evenings there – Charlotte forever showing off her innate ability to make a last minute feast from an empty fridge. Forever the hostess.
In
1998 I introduced my then new girl-friend Annicka to Charlotte &
Martin. Annicka was not Jewish, something which presented me with
significant personal issues to address. Charlotte welcomed Annicka with
open arms. Never judging, only ever supporting. Charlotte was like that
– she only ever saw people for what they were. People. Her strength,
openness and warmth during those times made a huge difference to mine
and Annicka’s lives, our ability to succeed in making a life together,
something which is borne out by the deep bond shared between the four
of us. A bond that will never disappear.
We shared many passions together. One of them was scuba diving. In 1999 the four of us spent a week in the Red Sea, diving. I remember how nervous Charlotte used to be before she stepped off the boat. And then I remember looking up, 100 feet under the ocean, and seeing her framed against a wall of coral, gliding in the current, a picture of spiritual calm.
The year after Martin and I left the girls at home and went for 10 days to a diving school in Florida. Charlotte was ever understanding when Martin’s valuable leisure time was taken up by individual pursuit. However much she would have loved to have been there too, to have spent that time with him, she was utterly selfless, always giving him, and all around her, room to grow.
2002 was a big year for us as friends.
It was February, and I remember the morning clearly. Charlotte & Martin were on the way back from a scan at the hospital. A baby was on the way. As ever, Charlotte was playing it down. She had always professed that she was not maternal. I never bought it.
In
September Annicka and I got married, and Charlotte witnessed our
ketubah, our marriage contract. In ways we may not have fully
appreciated at the time, our lives became indelibly intertwined.
And
then in November, unsurprisingly over sushi, Charlotte and Martin asked
us to be Solly’s guardians. We understood our role very clearly. Of
course never to substitute the family, but to complement them, and to
be the independent voice looking in from the outside. We accepted this
honour with great pleasure. We never expected to have to step up to the
mark.
Charlotte proved the following year to be the extraordinary mother that she always said she would never be. And more. Laying foundations of great strength and principle. Clear in her views of what parenthood meant, and what she saw as the future for Solly. Exuding love for her own child, as well as for everyone else’s, whom she treated as her own.
And then came the move to Holly Park Gardens and little Sam. In their new home and with a new addition to the family we saw her blossom, and take motherhood to yet another level – so capable, so relaxed - I think it even surprised her.
In February this year, Martin was 40 and a quarter and there was a party to celebrate. Charlotte knew that night that she was not well, but it did not distract her from making the most of the evening and enjoying the occasion and the party to the full. Indeed, Char did not let her recent illness stand in the way of anything.
On the Friday before she died, she and Annicka took the boys to the Diana Memorial Playground in Kensington Gardens. This is a place described as a “fantastic adventure for kids”. Char ran around with Sol, laughing and joking, and climbed with him to the top of the pirate ship mast. Annicka told me how Char ran around with Sol, laughing and joking, and climbed with him to the top of the pirate ship mast. She was tireless in her energy with him, in exposing him to new challenges by being at his level. in making his life a fantastic adventure.
Two days later it was my birthday. Char had wanted to join us for dinner on the Saturday night, but Martin, quite rightly, persuaded her to stay at home and rest. My she found that frustrating, but in reality that was the extent of her compromise – an evening in.
The next day we took the boys to Beaconsfield model village. It was a glorious day and we picnicked on the lawn before taking the kids to see the model trains. That was the last time I saw Charlotte. Smiling, radiant and beautiful, and bathed in sunshine. And that is how I will always remember her.
She was my second sister and one of my two best friends. She still is.