The devastating loss of a good buddy in Kuta

The devastating loss of a good buddy in Kuta

John Aglionby, Guardian News Service, Bali

When the first call came through last Saturday night about an explosion in Bali I was in a swimming pool with 11 friends celebrating one of their birthdays. The pool emptied immediately and we all grabbed our mobile phones, calling friends on the tourist island to get information.

Nine or 10 hours and no sleep later I'd landed in Bali and went straight to the morgue at Sanglah hospital. The assault on all the senses as I walked through the door made me literally stop in my tracks. Every available space in the four stiflingly hot rooms was covered in bodies, many burnt beyond recognition, most wrapped in bodybags and sometimes stacked on top of each other.

While heading to a second hospital the tragedy took on a whole new dimension. My phone had been ringing almost non-stop and one call was from Claire Hatton, a good friend who used to live in Indonesia and is now based in Singapore with her husband Chris. "Sorry, Claire, I can't talk now, I'll call you later," I said and hung up. She rang back immediately. "No John, this is serious. Chris was in Bali and is missing. He was there for the rugby tournament."

This time my mind really did go blank. He couldn't be dead, not Chris. He and I had been eating curry off banana leaves in Singapore only a couple of weeks ago. "I'll look for him," I said. "I'll do whatever I can. Call me at any time." This had now become personal. I did not suddenly become angrier - I guess I was too exhausted, dazed and confused for that. I just wanted to do all I could to help Claire.

I got a lucky break when I returned to the morgue and found a Balinese journalist, Iloh, who said she would call me if she heard anything about Chris.

Later that night, Iloh rang and said some bodies had already been identified, including some Brits. "Are any of them called Chris Redman?" I asked. "No," she replied. "But wait a minute, there's a Singaporean of that name on the list. He was identified by his Singaporean Cricket Club ID card."

I took a deep breath and called Claire. I'd never told anyone a loved one had died and had no idea how to break the news. I tried to offer what words of comfort I could but I knew I was being inadequate although, having lost my father to cancer in June, I too was coming to terms with loss.

She said she would fly to Bali the next day. I went back to my keyboard, struggling to concentrate. Despite the avalanche of news, I took time off to see Claire after she arrived. She was glad she heard Chris had died from me, rather than some anonymous consular official.

Leaving her was probably the worst point of the week for me. I felt extremely guilty about just getting up and going back to work. It was as if I callously didn't care about her and Chris and was only interested in the story. I had breakfast with Claire the following day, and we talked about how to handle the press. This placed me in a real dilemma as Claire and Chris were a great story - she had been the British Airways manager for Indonesia during the Jakarta riots in 1998 and ensured 2,500 people got out safely - that I knew the media would lap up. But we were both media-savvy enough to realize word would eventually get out and as she wanted the story covered accurately we decided to do an interview. I promised I would only file it once she started getting hounded and editors in London, who have been extremely supportive throughout, did not argue.

Less than eight hours later, Claire called and said Chris's boss was already getting calls about him, and her. My next challenge was how to write the story. Last year I had written an obituary of a journalist friend who was killed in Afghanistan and so I thought about what I did then.

The first two paragraphs took 20 minutes but once they were done it was OK and it proved to be a very cathartic process, just as writing this article is; it gave a sense of closure and I hoped it would do so for others.

Since then I have had to move on and it has helped being incredibly busy. But, surrounded by so many hundreds of grieving relatives, it is impossible not to think of Chris several times every hour. Time is undoubtedly a great healer but the "why's" and the "who's" will last for years.