Over thirty years ago, whilst in my late teens, I had a Saturday job in a big department store. When I was waiting on my final exam results, they agreed to employ me on a full-time, but temporary basis.

I hated it! Unlike the Saturday girls, who came and went, most of the staff had been there forever and were completely set in their ways, with rigid ideas on how things should be done and set lunch and coffee times. I spent most of my lunch hours wandering aimlessly around the town, and my tea breaks with my nose in a magazine.

One day, a bubbly blonde girl sat down beside me. She told me her name was Sandra and she had noticed that I was always alone. She asked me to join her in the local pub that lunch time. I was surprised and delighted. Sandra seemed to know everyone and extracted cheery waves and smiles from all the staff, even those who had seemed stiff and stand-offish to me. She was pretty and vivacious, and I was surprised she had gone out of her way to bother with me. Over the next few weeks, Sandra was incredibly kind to me. As her friend, I became an accepted member of staff and was even invited to social events by store members, outside of shop hours.

After the summer finished, I joined the bank and saw less and less of Sandra. I tried to meet her for lunch whenever I could, but our timings were seldom compatible. She lived not far from town and sometimes I would call in on my way home. However, she lived with her boyfriend and their flat was small, so we rarely had any time alone to chat. Also I had quite a walk home from there and in those days, none of us drove.

Years passed. Sandra came from a large family and was often away visiting them and I too, had a busy social life. She married her long term boyfriend and I married a local chap and went on to have a family of my own. I saw her sporadically but never for very long. We didn't do the couples thing - I don't know why, I suppose I was tied up with my children and she was still working full time. We would snatch the odd coffee now and again, or the odd glass of wine.

We became closer again after her marriage broke down. I tried to call round more, and although she didn't seem particularly keen to come to my rowdy house, she always seemed delighted to see me. Then her father died and I think a little piece of her died with him, as for a long time, much of the light that drew people to her like butterflies, dimmed. She was a wonderful comfort to me when I lost my dad, she understood.

Sandra left the department store and moved into office work. Her charm and confidence stood her in good stead and she climbed the corporate ladder effortlessly.

Although she had lots of admirers, she didn't fall in love again for a long time. When she did, it was with the wrong man. He was in a relationship which he couldn't walk away from and for years Sandra agonised over the situation, never quite being strong enough to let go. Weekends and holidays were a nightmare for her and she became depressed. The change in her was worrying.

When it ended she was devastated. I couldn't reach her no matter how hard I tried. She lost her flat and moved nearer to me, but if anything, I saw her less. Her bubbliness had all but evaporated, and she was almost unrecognisable from the girl I had met fifteen years ago. She was still incredibly special to me and I would have done anything to help her but she pushed me away.

She took a job and moved out of the area. Contact stopped.

I was incredulous and heartbroken. When I eventually caught up with her, she told me she had started to see a married man from work. She still worked in the same place and didn't want to live near to the people with whom she shared the office. She didn't want to be judged by anyone - me included.

I assured her that I would never judge her, she was my friend and I missed her.

We picked it up again slowly. I went to visit and I met the new man. I liked him. He was reasonably friendly towards me and he obviously adored Sandra, which was just lovely to see. They had a few issues, she said, which was probably only natural all things considered and Sandra seemed happy. They moved again - this time even further away but we would still meet occasionally for lunch and we telephoned regularly.

Sometimes I would invite her over straight from work for supper. Sandra still didn't drive so I would collect her from the office and her boyfriend would agree to pick her up later, promising to go for a drink or some supper with his pals from work beforehand. Invariably he would turn up half an hour after she had arrived.

She told me he was jealous. He wanted to be with her at all times and didn't like sharing her, even with her friends. He was insecure.

Meanwhile, I too had divorced. I was in a new relationship and we agreed to introduce the two men. It was okay. With hindsight, I think both men made a big effort for the sake of Sandra and I. Neither would have sought each other out on their own, but we managed to share some reasonable evenings and I was delighted to have my friend back. I was even more delighted when she told me they were moving back to the local area and I started to look forward to seeing them more often.

My boyfriend and I decided to get married and he agreed when I asked if Sandra could be our witness. She wasn't my closest friend by a long chalk and certainly not one of the girls who I saw most of, but she was still very dear to me and I wanted her to know how much.

A few months after we married, my husband had his 50th birthday. We invited lots of friends to our favourite restaurant. As not everyone knew one another, we encouraged them to move around the table between courses and for a while, I found myself sitting next to Sandra's man.

As far as I was concerned, the evening was a success.

I didn't hear from Sandra for a few weeks but as there was nothing particularly unusual about this, I thought nothing of it. However, after a couple of months had passed and she failed to return my phone calls, I realised something was amiss. I wrote to her, asking if she was alright and why she hadn't been in touch.

She invited me to her house and I went readily, thinking that it would be another happy reunion.

When I arrived she told me she was menopausal and that her mood swings had been erratic. I have since clung onto this statement, for what she told me next has haunted me ever since.

She said that her boyfriend had been embarrassed by my flirtatiousness at my husband's 50th, that I had been gushy and forward. She repeated some of the things that I had said to him, which although were familiar, had been taken totally out of context. For instance, I had told him, he looked fantastic but it was in response to him telling me his age - it was a compliment and certainly not a come on!

I couldn't believe what I was hearing, nor could I believe she could even think such things of me. I tried to explain away all her accusations and we moved onto other topics, but in truth, I couldn't wait to get out of there.

More time passed. I kept going over and over in my mind how my friendliness towards Sandra's partner could have been misconstrued. I became almost obsessed about it, asking some of my other friends whether I had been overtly friendly on the night.

My husband was furious. He had driven on the evening and therefore had drunk nothing. His memory of the evening was absolutely clear - we had all had a good time. My behaviour had been fine.

As time wore on, some of his anger rubbed off on me. Sandra had obviously taken her partner's word over mine, despite the fact that she and I had been friends, by this time, for over twenty five years. And did she think so little of me that she could really think I was capable of cracking on to her partner - on my newly acquired husband's 50th birthday!

For our first wedding anniversary, Sandra sent us an enormous bouquet of flowers. To this day, I am not sure whether it was simply a floral tribute because she was our witness, or whether there was something more behind it.

I wrote to her thanking her for the flowers but I explained that I hadn't come to terms with our quarrel. I would have met with her again to try and cobble together what was left of our friendship but she said she was loathe to go over it again and unless I could put it behind me, then there was no going forward.

Nowadays we don't even send Christmas cards.

In reality, I know that our friendship was over the moment she took her boyfriend's word over mine. I know, without any shadow of doubt that he could not have truly believed that I was overstepping the mark. For whatever reason, he has allowed Sandra to believe I could betray our friendship. I could never forgive him for that and I am not sure I would want to forgive her for having such little faith in me.I still miss her to this day.