Nicola

Nicola died on 7th May 2008 after overdosing. Two days before she had taken her French GCSE speaking exam; it later emerged that she got an A. She would have been so pleased about that. Various people gave her various nicknames, I called her Nessa, taking the first letter from each of her names N.E.S, and at the time it seemed cool. Times change…

One of the most important things in Nicola’s life was modelling, put her in front of a camera and she became the biggest poser to ever walk the planet. But not in a conceited way, she remained realistic and wasn’t one of those girls who’s main ambition was to be the next Katie Price. Nicola was incredibly impulsive, I never managed to find out what she truly wanted to do, but she often spoke about being a doctor. Who knows, she could have made a good one. She loved being centre of attention and making everyone laugh. They laughed and she laughed too. Probably, given the opportunity, she would have been a hilarious drunk: one of those people you really want to be with on a night out. But even in nursery, when I first met her, she was a livewire. I craved the friendship from someone who was bubbly and confident, even at the age of 3. The French language, it would seem, has been weaved throughout our friendship since day one, when I said “I can’t speak French,” after being forced to partake in language lessons at the European nursery we both attended. Her reply? Dancing around the tables singing “it’s easy peasy lemon squeezy!” Remembering that now still brings a smile to my face.

Nicola was sixteen when she died and had so much to live for, not just in terms of academics, which undoubtedly she would have done well in, but the simple things. I remember how excited she was about learning to drive and passing her test. And then being able to buy a car and drive up from Sussex to see me whenever she wanted. Like I said, she was impulsive.

Travelling was another large part of her life. Every few months, she would go back to her home town in Ireland and see her extended family. She was well travelled compared to your average 16 year old. I was so jealous when she spent 3 months in Australia, just because she could (and because independent schools have ridiculously long summer holidays.)

No one saw it coming, because even in her final days, she had a smile on her face. I’ve been told that she was quieter, but everyone thought that it was because of exams and the family situation. I will never forgive myself for not being there when she needed it. Even more so, because I didn’t go to her funeral. I wanted to shut it out and pretend it wasn’t real. I couldn’t face the truth: my best friend was dead and I wouldn’t ever hear her voice again or be able to converse with her every day. So I sat outside one of the schools in my town, waiting for my French exchange to arrive for the week, (a week which, incidentally, was horrific…Nicola would have loved the stories) on the day of her funeral and shut it all out. I will never forgive myself for not saying goodbye; visiting her grave a few months later wasn’t the same.
Nicola, you have taught me a lot, by not being here. I should look out for my friends, not think about myself as much and speak up if I disagree with something.

Talk to people.

Trust people.
Some of that I have succeeded with. My friends remain the most important people in my life, along with my family, and in many ways are the siblings I’ve never had. Speaking up if I disagree is definitely not something I need to work on. Talking and trusting however…well, I haven’t done quite so well there.

Nothing in the world can ever replace what an amazing friend you were. All I have are memories. And I will hold on so tight to those memories that it will hurt. I will love you forever, Nicola. Thank you for being the sister I never had and one of the most influential people in my life.