Pat Kavanagh: My friend, the perfect agent

Everyone wants to hear all the stories about Pat and about Julian, as they were so well known, but the Pat who was my friend and agent was a very private person and not at all interested in fame for herself. What she had was a real gift for friendship. She was loyal to all her writers and they repaid her with the same loyalty. She achieved a blend of distance and intimacy in her relationships, which was rare and wonderful. She was direct and concise and discerning and elegant. Her style was very much part of the fun of her. She loved clothes and always looked glamorous. If you ever saw Pat coming you would say to yourself, "Stop slouching!".

I first spoke to her when I was working on Vogue. I had won their talent competition and started working there after university. They would get me to write various pieces on travel and shopping, but when I said I really wanted to write stories they ended up publishing one in the magazine. Later, at a features meeting, I suggested we ask Julian Barnes to write a piece about the Channel Tunnel, which had just been completed. The editor liked the idea and I was given his agent's number, which was Pat's.

I had no idea who she was when I rang, but after we talked about the idea I gave her my contact details, and she asked if I was the one who had written that story in Vogue the month before. I said, "Yes. Did you read it?". "Yes. Bloody good," she replied, and put the phone down.

When I turned round in my desk to say that Pat Kavanagh had said something nice about my story, everybody in the room said that she was a wonderful agent.

I didn't know anybody in the literary world at that time. I was just writing stories on my own and I would send her one at a time. She asked me to her office when Peters Fraser & Dunlop was at Buckingham Street to see my thesis, which I had been finishing off in the British Library after work. I remember that she was sitting at her desk and I think there was a little coal fire in the room. She had her hair in a pony tail and looked extremely dignified. I thought, "Good. Here is someone who is professional."

Whenever I sent Pat anything there would be a postcard by return saying "I've received your story and I'll let you know when there's any news on it." They were hardly big earners but having someone like Pat believe in my writing was terrific. Once she thought you were good, your confidence was fuelled. She always said, "Write whatever you want to write." My writing was what I wanted to do and she was of the same mind. Short stories are not a fashionable form but I never felt any pressure from her to try anything different.

We used to meet at literary things and parties and although she didn't gossip we would talk about what was important to us as well as lighter topics. There was no great flood of babble with Pat. She was self-editing and would never gush – even when she called to discuss a story which she liked she would be succinct and direct, so you valued her words the more.

She was truthful and never said anything she didn't mean, which is a rare quality. No one had a bad word to say about her – a publisher might comment on her telephone manner, but being direct is a very effective quality for someone in business doing deals.

Not everyone knew that Pat was tremendously sensitive to art and music as well as literature. She loved going to concerts and galleries and they meant a great deal to her. She was also a very knowledgeable gardener and gave my husband some sought-after tomato cuttings for his garden.

Pat would get you the money, but she was much more interested in your writing. Some might call that old-fashioned but I was completely behind it. I had absolute confidence in her. If you wrote as well as you could and Pat knew what you were on about and was enthusiastic about your work, then she could sell it.

I think all of her writers left PFD with her last year. For me there was no question about it – my loyalty lay with her. In her last year she was stoical. The news of her death was incredibly sad and I have been in shock over this past month, sort of like a car crash in slow motion. She was exemplary.