By Tom Geoghegan BBC News

Mid-sentence, Anat Rosenberg's words were taken from her.

On the other end of the phone, her boyfriend John Falding was left with the sound of distant screams in his ears.

Anat is remembered as witty and spontaneous

Miss Rosenberg, 39, was sitting near the door of the Number 30 bus when a bomb blast tore the vehicle apart on the morning of 7 July 2005, killing her and 12 other passengers.

At 9.47am precisely, she was telling Mr Falding that the travel chaos that had prevented her using the Tube could get a mention in his newsletter for the Marylebone Society.

"We were discussing the situation and she said that whatever had happened it would make something for my newsletter," said the 62-year-old former Financial Times journalist.

"'Newsletter' was the last word she spoke. I heard ghastly screams in the background but I'm sure not from her and I certainly didn't hear any explosions. But after a couple of seconds of these chilling screams her phone went dead."

Pondering the fact he was talking to her at the time, he added: "If it had to happen, it's the way she would have wanted it. And I believe she didn't suffer at all."

John says there is emptiness, loss and regret

There was a grim irony in the way Anat, an Israeli national, was killed. Having spent 18 years in London she was anxious about visiting her home country because of the threat of suicide bombings, particularly on buses.

She met John more than a year previously when working part-time at the Waitrose supermarket in Marylebone. He was a regular visitor on Saturday afternoons when Anat offered glasses of wine to customers.

Reflecting her lively personality, this weekly event developed into something of a party and she loved chatting to the artists and musicians who made up some of the regular crowd.

She and John were drawn to each other, partly through her love of opera, ballet, modern dance and theatre. Six months after becoming friends, and nine months before her death, they began an intense relationship.

"She really was a one-off. I've never known anyone with such vitality and volatility. She was unpredictable, spontaneous, witty, loyal and loving," he said.

"She crammed everything she could into every day. She was invariably late and her friends accepted this and factored in that she may be an hour late.

"No-one minded, it just meant you had to wait longer for the fun to begin."

'Amazing package'

Her weekends were filled with visits to art exhibitions or shopping for shoes, clunky jewellery and clothes.

"She was totally disorganised and untidy but it all came together in this amazing package. She would stand out in a crowd with her striking looks and winning smile and very outgoing, perhaps rather raucous, manner."

Anat came to London 19 years ago to continue her dance studies and immediately fell in love with its cultural diversity.

She threw herself into the city's arts scene and often collected autographs at the stage door after watching ballet or opera, usually in the standing seats she could afford. She joined the Ballet Association and became a Friend of Covent Garden.

I just knew I had lost her. If there had been a breath left in her body she would have got in touch John Falding Obituary: Anat Rosenberg

On the morning of 7 July, after an evening watching Twelfth Night in Regents Park, she was running later than usual for her job as an administrator at a children's charity in Highbury.

She left his flat at 9am and, as he watched the "power surges" reported on the news, she rang him three times when her normal journey was thwarted by Tube station closures and she got on the bus.

A fourth phone call informed John that her bus had been diverted through Tavistock Square but she never reached the end of the call. And as the news unfolded in the hours ahead, the truth began to dawn on him.

"I just knew I had lost her. If there had been a breath left in her body she would have got in touch.

"If there was any consolation, I knew right away what had happened and in that respect I had a bit more certainty than relatives of people on the Tube."

One year on

He went over the possibility in his mind that he could have warned her not to get the bus, if the authorities and broadcasters had been more certain earlier that the travel network had been bombed.

"I could have said simply 'start walking home and I'm on my way to meet you.' I have this vision of her in the street and I'm running up to her and saying 'you're safe now.'

"When I kept seeing that image of the bus and I was trying her phone, I said 'get off the bus, get off the bus,' knowing she would never get the message but I wanted to say it just in case."

Despite fearing the worst, it was still a shock to him when a week later, and with her parents Arie and Naomi in London anxiously awaiting news, Anat's body was formally identified. Twelve months later the loss is as deep as ever.

A plaque is in London's Dorset Square

"I always suspected that the phrase 'time heals' is not an accurate reflection of what happens. I think time gives you acceptance and I can now accept that I will always have this great sense of loss, this emptiness and so many regrets.

"You just learn and accept that you have to live with this. It's rather like finding out you have a chronic illness which will not kill you but it changes your life."

When he boards a bus, John averts his eyes from the spot where Anat was sitting and hurries upstairs. He used to watch the clock for 9.47am and will do so again on 7 July.

The anniversary arrangements have been handled well, he thinks, although by a quirk of fate the evening event will take him back to the part of Regents Park where the two spent their last evening.

"I feel quite comfortable about going back on this particular summer's evening because it will be such a surreal experience, so many people in a similar position, there will be a comfort to be had there."

Anat: "It all came together in this amazing package"

But he is angry the government has so far ruled out a public inquiry into what happened. John and Anat were both opposed to the Iraq war and he believes it was a contributing factor to the motivation of the bombers, to whom he feels no anger.

"They had been brainwashed and dehumanised, they were acting like robots. If they had a choice they would have made a logical decision.

"Any feelings of anger I have are directed at the people who twisted them and I'm less keen now on Bush and Blair as well."

Anat's memory and personality are marked by a plaque and a cherry tree John planted in Dorset Square, where they had shared a wonderful evening at a garden party.