Caroline Carey (17), Kilmore West - ‘Our beautiful, bubbly, witty Caroline is gone’

The inquests into the deaths of the 48 young people who died in the Stardust fire in Artane, Dublin in 1981 feature pen portraits of each of the deceased by bereaved family members. Find all of the portraits and more coverage here.

Caroline Mary Angela Carey was born at home, one of seven children. [She] was a much-loved daughter, sister, auntie, niece, granddaughter and cousin.

She left King’s Inn Street school after her Inter Cert... and went on to complete a secretarial course. She sat an exam for a position with Dublin Corporation... [and] was offered a job as a clerical officer. She was very happy in her new position.

Caroline was a very good-looking girl with a lovely bubbly personality. She was very witty with a very mischievous sense of humour. She had a heart of gold, loved her family and was very popular with her circle of friends.

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Like most girls of that age, [she] loved her fashion and make-up. She always had perfectly manicured and polished nails. She wasn’t perfect and had some faults. She certainly wasn’t a domestic goddess. At that time, one of Caroline’s chores was to take her turn washing the dishes after dinner. She was always ducking and diving out of the chores and it was no wonder she always had perfect nails.

Caroline left our house on the night of the 13th of February... laughing and in great form and looking forward to a night of dancing and socialising. She was the only one of that happy group of friends who did not return home.

In the early hours of the 14th of February a knock on the hall door woke me up. It wasn’t Caroline but her friend to tell us about the fire. The hours that followed brought shock, horror and hysterics, going to every hospital in the city searching for Caroline.

Eventually a garda called to the house and gave us the news we hoped and prayed we would not get, that our much-loved Caroline was dead.

While watching news reports on TV, we saw Caroline being carried out in the arms of a fireman. He placed her down and tried to resuscitate her, but it was too late. We were lucky, if that’s the correct word to use, in that we could see Caroline, talk to her, kiss her and say goodbye. There wasn’t a mark on her. Even her nails were perfect.

A very black cloud descended on our home and stayed there for a long time.

I very rarely dream about Caroline but when I do it’s the same dream in which she was injured in the fire and had to go away for treatment. On her return years later, I’m introducing her to all the family she didn’t know. I have aged in my dream but Caroline is still as she was the night she left home. For a split second when I open my eyes, I hope and then realise it’s only a dream... our beautiful, bubbly, witty Caroline is gone and will never come home.