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From Joy White,

*****
If life has its tides, then Audrey raised the tide of life. It was always just more interesting when she was around, and funnier because she had such a great eye for the absurd.

When I was an eager annoying small girl, she was always my big, brave sister who picked me up when I fell off my bike, pulled me out of the deep water when I lost my armbands or protected me from a particularly fierce dog called George, owned by one of our father's friends.

In the early 1940s, in wartime Donaghadee, my mother and clergyman father kept open house, and not just for Methodists. The manse was filled with Belfast friends after the air raids; Jewish refugees would drop in from a nearby camp to play the violin and American soldiers billeted in the hotel opposite would come for sing-songs on a Sunday. Audrey or my mother would play the piano for them. And, of course, when my father had to "dig for victory", as the slogan had it, to provide us with potatoes and vegetables, Audrey and I had our little plots for flowers. It was then that we realised that one of the great pleasures in life is planting seeds and seeing them grow.
Donald, our brother, always knew he wanted to be a mathematician and go to university, but Audrey wanted a bit more action. She had always wanted to be a nurse, so when she was 16, and against our mother's advice, she marched up to various hospitals in Belfast and convinced the matron of the Children's Hospital that she was exactly the sort of nurse they needed in the next intake.
You can imagine the excitement of the new uniform, the unholy hours she worked, the tales of dragon staff nurses and the hordes of fellow nurses who were invited back home on days off for Nescafe and scones, while I was learning my Latin verbs and French vocab.
But the comfort zone of Belfast wasn't enough for Audrey. It was off to London to King's College Hospital and a little bed-sit in Doughty Street, near the Charles Dickens house. What excitement to call in on my glamorous, tall sister on my way to France and Switzerland -- to meet all those wonderfully sophisticated friends and hear of an interesting young doctor, one Henry Litherland, who was to become the love of her life.

The sun shone for the wedding at the end of August, 1959, and there was a glittering reception in the 17th century Crawfordsburn Inn. There were traditional Methodist soft drinks served downstairs, but upstairs the champagne was flowing, thanks to an art dealer friend, Tom Caldwell. It was all the more exciting as word had to be secretly passed around and we had to tiptoe upstairs to get it. A typically Audrey situation!

Then, of course, there was the famous pioneering journey across Canada to Victoria in their little Triumph sports car -- but you know all the stories about that!

How I miss my unconventional, sparkling lovely sister. We talked a lot last year when I dashed over, and we continued our conversation throughout the past months. The last time we spoke was the Sunday before last, when I heard about the wonderful family reunion at the apartment. Although she was often tired, her spirit was undimmed. How wonderfully Henry and the family and all the friends looked after her, and what a generous, free spirit she always was.

She took generosity and friendship to a new level and, with her sense of fun, she indeed raised the tide of life for all of us. I don't know the name of the patron saint of gardeners, but I'm sure at this very moment she is discussing with him or her the layout of a new flowerbed near the Pearly Gates. She will live in our memory forever.