Ruth is 29, a beautiful, black haired siren who lulls people, not to their deaths but to their destinies. She connects with kindred spirits and pulls them to her, drawing on their vitality, bringing out their latent emotion, thought, power. Her appearance is striking enough to stand out in any crowd. Think how, in a crowded bar, you will always catch sight of one person and you just know that everyone else will have picked out that same individual. There is an aura about them, an imperceptible divide which separates them from everyone else. They appear to be in charge.

Do you know the definition of power? I do. It is to always be half a second, half a move, half a thought ahead of the other person. That's all it takes. If you can do that you appear more knowledgeable and more in control. You appear wise and experienced. People look to you and respect you; they follow your lead, accept your word. They put themselves in your hands. They trust you.

So how did my Ruth become like that? How did she acquire power? You are not born to it, you don't buy it or choose it, you don't even know you have it, particularly. You just earn it, through life and experience, battles and scars.

Ruth was pregnant at fourteen and bore a child she saw only once. Chubby, bald, mewling and wrinkled, the image is fixed unbreakably in her mind. She mentions the boy sometimes, late at night when her defences are down. A phantom, a spectre from a past she barely remembers but for the pain of that parting. He will be fourteen himself now, a child with a new life and a hidden past. She called him Christy. His adopted family will have given him their own name, but it was important for Ruth to name her child: it made him hers, a part of him belonged and always will belong to her.

The father, to give him credit, stood by Ruth, and had she kept the child he had been prepared to accept his parental obligations. He proposed frequently, including once getting down on bended, clichéd; but even at that age Ruth was sure enough of her own mind to know it could never work.

She became single minded after that, devoted herself to study, to improving herself. She was selfish, introverted, self-sufficient. She had no time and no need for others, but progressed through her teenage years in a protective cocoon of her own making. Naturally, others thought her aloof, haughty and above them. She was a snob, a swot, a swank. Children can be unforgiving about difference, and Ruth was different, so she was turned on by her peers. All this served only to draw her deeper within herself, exacerbating the divide between them, increasing her isolation. For the first couple of years Ruth was too intense and inward-looking to notice or care, but gradually, as she matured and developed, she began to feel more and more that the situation she had created was not a true reflection of her personality, that she had trapped herself in a persona which was not hers.

University was a release. At eighteen, Ruth left home to begin a History degree. This was her chance for a new start, a fresh outlook; there was no baggage from her past, there were no preconceptions, no fixed judgements nor set opinions. She was a new person, free to reinvent herself in any way she chose. It was, in many respects, the most exciting, and most significant period of her life: she could consciously create a new person, steer a fresh path for herself. Ruth has always maintained that whatever she learned academically in the following four years paled into insignificance when compared to the lessons in life which she absorbed at the same time.

From the outset, Ruth became a leader, an innovator, the focus of a coterie which built around her. She exulted in her role, her new-found freedom from introversion. She felt a strength, a depth of character arising from the unhappiness of her childhood. She became increasingly gregarious, a social animal, sought after and popular.

Still, though, sex remained a problem with her. She had been celibate since her childhood pregnancy, and even after two years of university had not felt able to release her inhibitions. There were, naturally, many opportunities, and equally as many subsequent tearful inquisitions in the solitude of her bedroom. So often she wanted to, but couldn't bring herself to take the final leap.

It was a PHD student who finally released her from her fears. She was in her early forties, more than twenty years older than Ruth, and a worldly wise woman who had quickly seen through Ruth's carefree exterior and into the pain concealed within. The two became friends, becoming closer and closer over the following months. Gradually, Helen began to draw the story of Ruth's life from her, forcing her to confront acts, deeds and emotions she had buried for years. It was a period of release for Ruth, difficult and painful, but necessary; without it, the misery of her childhood years would have remained within her for ever, inhibiting her, denying her emotional release. Ruth knew that this was someone she could trust; and then, with a start, she realised that this was the first person she had ever met whom she could trust. At that moment, Ruth became besotted, craving to learn everything from her, desirous of her company at all times, willing to entrust herself entirely to this woman. Ruth entered the most emotionally intense period of her life.

Long before Helen would countenance it, Ruth had developed a sexual craving for her. Helen was aware of it, but would not reciprocate, nor encourage. This, of course, caused some tension between them, but Helen was aware that Ruth was still too vulnerable for their relationship to move to a new plane. Although tempted, Helen's love was too great to compromise their love by lust.

The catalyst came, as it always does, in an unexpected way. A promising date for Ruth with a hunk from the Physical Sciences course broke up in acrimony when Ruth tensed and froze at the vital moment. Harsh words and recriminations passed between them and Ruth fled tearfully homewards. She was still tending to her tear-stained face when Helen arrived unexpectedly. Had this been an erotic story, Paula my dear, I would regale you with the details of that momentous evening, describing every pussy-quivering moment. But it isn't and I won't. Suffice to say it was a glorious sapphic adventure, a cathartic experience which exorcised a host of uncomfortable ghosts from Ruth's head. Given Ruth's experience only a woman could have achieved this; only a lesbian relationship could have freed her from her sexual complex. She emerged from it renewed, invigorated, released and deeply in love, for the first time in her life.

Ruth and Helen remained confidantes and lovers, and remain so to this day. Without Helen, the Ruth whom I know would not exist. The beautiful, perfect woman that she has become would not have developed, but would have remained tethered to a past from which she could not release herself. In the eight years or so that Ruth and Helen have known one another, Helen the muse, Helen the guide, Helen the rock has guided Ruth, shaped her, moulded her. She has created a woman in her own likeness, another gatherer of lost souls, a healer of the hurt, a lover of women and men.

The Ruth I know now is a wise woman. She knows vulnerability, appreciates it, understands it and addresses it. She sees through the veneer, interprets the public utterances and understands. She has known pain, known loss and can see it in others. And I love her.