By Eamonn Fingleton

Many people have helped me over the years but no one has made a bigger contribution than Mary McCutchan.

Half-French and half-Scots, she was a farmer’s daughter from Arlington in Sussex. At boarding school in Kent, she was taken in hand by an Irish nun who evidently was early to spot Mary’s potential. Encouraged to aim high, Mary narrowly missed getting in to Cambridge in 1964. She had better luck with her second choice: Trinity College Dublin.

She and I met in 1967 when we both wrote for Trinity News, the student newspaper. Graduating in 1968, she was appointed women’s editor of the Irish Independent newspaper. In that capacity, she ranked alongside Mary Kenny and Maeve Binchy as one of the most prominent crusaders for women’s rights in Ireland.

In 1973 we moved to London — in my case to work for Investors Guardian and in hers for Woman magazine.

After she became pregnant in 1974 she resigned from Woman. Her plan was to give her children the best start in life and then, after ten years, she would return to her career in journalism.

It was not to be. She and our two-month-old twins Tara and Andrew died in a car accident in South London on December 6 1974. She was driving and had veered into the path of an on-coming bus.

A witness saw her slump at the wheel. This was consistent with what her friends and relatives already knew: Mary was a narcoleptic. The term refers to a tendency to suffer sudden uncontrollable bouts of sleepiness. I only ever saw Mary’s narcolepsy at dinner parties. She was a superlative cook and loved to entertain. But sometimes towards the end of a tiring evening her head would slump and then, after a few seconds, she would recover with a start.

That day in 1974 looked from the start like a day we would remember. This was her first real outing since giving birth. She was to be the guest of honor at a celebratory lunch with dozens of her colleagues at Woman magazine. We thought of it as a victory lap after a difficult pregnancy.

On the way in to town I did the driving and then, after lunch, I picked them up. I stopped near my office and handed over to Mary. In that last moment before she slipped in to the driver’s side door, we gazed into each other’s eyes. I remember thinking this is as good as it gets.

Mary McCutchan (May 26, 1944 — December 6, 1974)