She was so exotic, so different from the preppy girls I went to college with. I loved her heavy makeup, the leather clothes. She loved Klaus Nomi, who died of AIDS before most people knew what it was. She also liked to take me to gay bars in Earl's Court, not far from the hotel we worked in together. She said they were the only places she could go without being hit on. I was nervous at first, but gradually I adapted, my homophobia nipped in the bud.
The next summer I followed her to Germany, where she worked in a hotel near King Ludwig's fairytale castle. She had worked there before, and said it was where she belonged. I couldn't wait to see her. But while I was travelling, she had an accident and went back to England.
By the time I arrived, she was gone.