I was temping at Waitrose head office when I first met Jacqueline. We both worked in the Finance department; Jacqueline worked in the cash office and I in Stock Accounting. We hadn’t spoken too much to each other—just ‘Hello’ I think—before one Friday afternoon she asked me, “What’s your job like?”  

Unbeknown to me, she had been offered my job. I came in to work the following Monday and she was sitting at my desk. We often joked that she stole my job and it’s that kind of humour that made us click early on. I was on a week-by-week contract and with Jacqueline now in place, I assumed that I would need to find another role, but luckily there was enough work for me to stay on and work alongside Jacqueline. And I say it was lucky not because I had a job, but because I got to know Jacqueline, and become good friends with her.

We spent much of our time in one corner of the office where we were left alone to get on with our work, but on occasion people would comment that we were like two school children giggling at the back of the classroom. I would like to point out it was often Jacqueline making the most noise with her chortles and crying. If I knew I was making her giggle, I would try to make her laugh harder. It was infectious. I spent many, many hours of my working life with Jacqueline laughing. For that, I shall always be grateful.

I had a lot of respect for Jacqueline. For many reasons. One being that she didn’t put up with any nonsense. I loved it when she told me why she had taken on my role. She’d resigned from another position due to her managers being what is best described as petty. I don’t think they expected her to walk away. For a long time they struggled to replace her. She was a talented and hard worker. Thank goodness for Len Borley—a great man—who offered her the opportunity to stay on at Waitrose and to be treated with the respect she deserved.

Jacqueline was a very intelligent person. She had a vast knowledge about many things, at times encyclopaedic. She was also very astute. Always analysing and questioning. Then there was her sense of humour. It really was very much in harmony with mine. All of these traits of hers made it great when conversing. There was always much to talk about, and debate. There were the odd times where we didn’t agree on things, but it didn’t matter as we could easily agree to disagree. Our days working together flew by.

Jacqueline was also a very strong person. She was diagnosed with MS early on in her life and yet how she continued as normal always amazed me. She still came into work everyday, still kept that sense of humour, still persevered with such determination. I never knew how she did it. In later years it got tougher. She said some days were really, really hard. Tiring. Upsetting. Yet she still found strength. A strength I don’t think I could ever find in myself. And I think a big part of her finding that strength was because of David. She would tell me how much she loved him, how much he loved her, how much he cared for her. It was only a few weeks ago she told me once again that she didn’t know what she would do without him. David, what a rock you are.

Jacqueline had many qualities. Too many to list here. She cared a lot about people. She was kind and generous. She supported me many times when we first worked together. I knew I could rely on her if I ever needed to.

I miss being able to text Jacqueline. In recent years, we’d both moan about the state of the world. The dire politics that surround us. There’s been plenty to talk about in just the past couple of weeks alone. I would love to know what she was thinking. There are new books I’ve read that I want to recommend to her. There are TV shows I want to know if she is watching. There are recent films I want to know if she’s seen. I will miss all of this. I will miss our conversations. I shall miss Jacqueline greatly. I was very lucky to have known her.