Kate's mates

We were lucky to have several friends – and their friends and family - coming to the Bolton show and afterwards we all sat round a big table and talked about Things That Matter. Hoorah! Being bullied because of your sexuality, so much so that you have to leave the police force, someone's sister who died at 39 of breast cancer, the effects of Down's Syndrome, both now and in the 1960s, spinal injuries..... it was just lovely! One of the unforeseen effects of this show is that conversation misses out the nice-weather-which-motorway-did-you-come-on-I-think-I-might-paint-the-bathroom-this-colour-do-you-think-they-still-make-it chat at the door. And we laughed, including at each other, the various misfortunes or unexpected turns of our lives, the stories bouncing along like running gags.

We had agreed to see Kate's mates the next day in Manchester for a kind of reunion lunch, organised by Laurence. In the past Laurence has also organised other events with friends of his and Kate's to remember her. As a family we'd not been able to join them for any of these.

Meeting up with a few of Kate's mates is a lovely prospect, although there is something in me which feels so inadequate. We all at this lunch – with the possible exception of Bartelt – want to see Kate. It's ridiculous I know, but I still have the feeling that.... I'm in Loco Kate... because I look like her? Because I talk about her? Because I'm doing this show? I really don't know why, it's ridiculous, but I feel like a monumental disappointment because I am not Kate and I don't understand why she died either.

So we meet for lunch in central Manchester. Bartelt had to run around taking pictures and then we join the friends. We talked about Kate, about Radio Manchester, about journalist safety, people's experiences of hearing the news that Kate had died. We had some drinks, we had some lunch. Kate was the dead centre of this lunch, but at least she was alive in our memories. And it was excellent to understand why she had loved her time at Radio Manchester (then called GMR) so much – what great folk and how they loved her. How they still love her, like I do. That's some kind of comforting, I think. Obviously, I'd met lots of them before, and yet another of the odd things that happen when somebody dies is that every relationship shifts, a littlle or syzmically, which is exhausting, disorientating and enlightening. I am no longer Rebecca, the little sister of Kate, I am Rebecca, Kate's surviving sister.