The Runaway Schoolgirl (4 page)

W
hen Gemma was born, on 2 June 1997, I made a promise to her that I would always love her and would never let anything bad happen to her. I had separated from her biological father Gary while I was pregnant. I was twenty-two; Gary was twenty-five. I remember telling her that day that it wouldn’t matter that she didn’t have two parents because I would always protect and love her more than two people put together.

Gary was my first love and our relationship was good to begin with. Shortly after we moved in together, I became pregnant with Lee and then three years later I discovered I was expecting again. At the time, Gary had a terrible temper and really scared me, so when I found out I was pregnant again, I decided to go it alone and bring up the children myself.

I tried again and again to get Gary to have some kind of
relationship with Lee and Gemma; I didn’t want them not to have a father in their lives. But it was to no avail – he didn’t even so much as hold Gemma until she was two weeks old and after that he only saw her a couple of times. He just didn’t want to know her and Lee.

After that relationship, it wasn’t a priority to meet anyone else, but two years later I met Max, and it was love at first sight. He was amazing with the children and we got married in Gretna Green on 23 October 1999. The children took his name and we were all really happy together. I gave birth to Maddie in 2000 and then, eight years later, Alfie came along.

Unfortunately, our relationship went downhill after Max was involved in a serious bike accident. He sustained terrible injuries to his back and had a year’s rehabilitation. He kept reliving the nightmare of the accident and it was just too much strain on our marriage. We were unable to get it back on track and we agreed to separate when Alfie was two years old, but promised to stay as amicable as possible for the children’s sakes. In fact we even spent a Christmas together as Max was determined to be a proper dad to the children. Later, Maddie moved in with him – she has always been Daddy’s girl – but we are still very close and she comes and stays with us all the time, so I don’t feel detached from her.

In 2010, I got promoted in my work as an auditor and it was there that I met Paul, who was a senior auditor. With four children already, I really had my hands full, but after much discussion we decided to try for a baby and were blessed with beautiful Lilly. Of course, the day she was born was the day that Miss Shackleton had called from Gemma’s school about the rumours. For me, the first few months of Lilly’s life were
fairly dramatic, but through it all I was determined that Alfie and Lilly wouldn’t be dragged into the nightmare.

I am extremely proud of the fact that we united as a family to keep Alfie and Lilly’s lives as normal as possible. But things were about to get much more challenging …

D
uring the course of Sunday night and into Monday morning I could hear the rumble of vehicles starting to descend on the street. By the morning the road was full of cars and vans set up with satellite dishes. There were swarms of photographers with tripods and zoom lenses aimed at our house.

My first priority was to get Alfie off for his first day of school. He didn’t have a clue what was going on as we bustled around, getting his lunch box ready. He had his little book bag and a brand new school coat, and was really excited. I felt tearful because it was the first time that I hadn’t been able to accompany one of my children on their first day at school, but Paul and I agreed that I should stay at home in case Gemma called. She didn’t have her mobile phone with her, but we knew that she would remember the landline number.

There was an added complication: the phone account that we had at the house was in Max’s name and we were in the process of changing it to my name and getting a new number. This wouldn’t have mattered under normal circumstances, but it was meant to be changing that very day. I got in contact with the phone company, explained the situation and begged them not to change the number. Normally, it would have been too late, but luckily they were able to get engineers on the case and let us keep our original number.

My two best friends, Chloe and Darcee, arrived at around 8am and couldn’t believe the crowd of reporters and TV crews that had gathered outside our house. They were shocked and frightened by the fact the story had escalated so quickly.

We kept all the curtains drawn and the blinds closed so that nobody could see in. I crawled around upstairs on my hands and knees, and started sitting on the floor instead of the bed in case the people who had gathered outside could see anything through a gap in the curtains. I know it’s ridiculous, but I was becoming so paranoid that I started whispering to people, convinced the media gathered outside could somehow hear through the walls.

We could see that reporters were going round all of our neighbours, trying to dig up information, and we had a stream of people shoving business cards and scribbled notes through our letterbox, asking to speak to us. Anyone who came to the door got a very direct ‘No comment’ from Paul. He was the designated ‘door opener’ and the press soon got used to his response of ‘No comment’ every time.

At around 9am the post was delivered and there was a letter from Gemma’s school. It said that she had to attend
extra compulsory tuition lessons in maths. I couldn’t believe what I was reading – not least because the maths teacher was Mr Forrest, the very same man who had just abducted my daughter and taken her to France! It was so shocking, it was almost laughable. What I said is unprintable, but you can probably guess the kind of thing …

Chloe got straight on the phone to Mr Worship, the executive head of Kennedy High School; I was in too much of a rage to speak to him myself. There was an awkward silence, after which he apologised profusely and said that there must have been an oversight. The letter had been sent out on the Friday night and should have been intercepted, he explained, but it had slipped through the net.

It felt like such a smack in the face. Not only had the school had the cheek to get in touch about something so trivial at a time like this, it was about her abductor’s specialist subject! I needed a lot of strong coffee to calm me down after that.

Next, a lady called Hannah called me and introduced herself as my new family liaison officer. It transpired that Jim had just been on duty over the weekend, although he was to help us again. Hannah explained that the Sussex Police media team wanted to set up a press conference with me and Max. She told me a bit about what would be involved and instructed me to be ready to be picked up at midday.

I was terrified. I hate being in the spotlight – I didn’t even like walking down the aisle at my own wedding – and the idea of everyone looking at me and having cameras in my face scared the hell out of me. The fact that it was because my darling daughter had gone missing only made it worse: it was almost too much to bear.

Hannah informed me that the press conference would be
covered by all the major national networks, including the BBC, ITN and Sky, and that there would also be a French translator present so that the story could be broadcast in France, too.

As much as the idea of the press conference filled me with horror, I knew how important it was to get the message out about Gemma. No matter what, I had to go through with it. I had been living in baggy pregnancy clothes since Lilly was born and hadn’t give a second thought to what kind of state my hair or clothes were in. My image was the least of my worries, but Chloe and Darcee were brilliant and helped me to look as presentable as I could under the circumstances.

At midday, Hannah arrived. Chloe, Darcee and I stepped out of the house with our heads ducked down and headed for the waiting unmarked police car. We had agreed that Paul would stay at home to man the phones in case Gemma saw the press conference and got in touch.

At this point, the reporters didn’t know what I looked like, so I hoped that having my friends with me might mean they wouldn’t single me out. I couldn’t believe the deafening noise when I walked out into the street. There was an immediate click-click-click-click-click as the photographers craned to get pictures and there were people shouting out questions from every direction. ‘Can you tell us any more?’ ‘How are you feeling?’ ‘Are there any more details you can share with us?’ ‘Has she been in touch?’

It was so scary. Every time I tried to look up and see what was going on, everything went white as the flashbulbs blinded me.

During the 20-minute journey, Hannah tried to keep the conversation light, explaining who she was and how I could contact her at any time after the press conference had taken
place. She was clearly trying to calm my nerves, but there was nothing anybody could say or do to stop me feeling scared.

When we arrived at Sussex Police HQ, there were more reporters and cameras waiting for us outside, so we went in through the back and walked through a maze of corridors to reach the conference area.

DCI Jason Tingley came in and explained what was going to happen that afternoon. I remember asking him if he had ever done anything like this before, and was relieved when he said he hadn’t. It made me feel a bit less anxious to think that we were both going through it for the first time. He kept disappearing and I later discovered that, like me, he was petrified and had to keep visiting the bathroom whenever anyone mentioned the words ‘TV cameras’.

Nick Cloke, the media team’s head of communications strategy, introduced me to Neil Honour, the chief superintendent of Sussex Police. Normally, I would have been in awe of meeting someone of his standing, but it didn’t feel significant at the time. It was more about finding out what each of these people were doing to help me find my daughter. I was reassured that so much was being done and I was incredibly grateful.

By this time Max had arrived and we were asked to each prepare a script to read out to the press. Nick explained that this was in case we went blank when it came to the time for each of us to speak.

How on earth could I convey how I felt? I thought about other police conferences where parents had put out pleas for lost children that I had seen on television. I knew how important it was to make the most of every second I was allowed to speak and to say something that would reach out to Gemma if she saw the message.

Before we knew it, it was time to go in and face the press. I remember looking at Max’s face and he was as white as a sheet. We gave each other a reassuring smile and then went in.

Once again, there was that click-click-click-click-click of cameras going off all around us and a blinding of white flashbulbs. I started shaking like a leaf; I couldn’t control myself. I took my seat and sat on my hands, desperate to stop the shaking. I knew how important this opportunity was. I told myself that it didn’t matter how I was feeling, it was all about getting Gemma back. Nothing else mattered.

I was sitting at one end of a long table. Max was next to me, followed by Jason Tingley and then the French translator. Jason kicked off proceedings by reading out a press statement and explained the situation with the French authorities and what was happening with the European arrest warrant – basically, that everything was being put in place to get Gemma back as soon as possible.

Then it was time for me to read out my statement. As Nick Cloke had warned, my mind did go blank, so I was glad of my piece of paper with the words I wanted to say to Gemma.

This is what I said:

As I was saying the bit about adorable princess and adorable mermaid, I made a shape like angel wings above my head. It was something Gemma always did with Lilly; there is such a special bond between the two of them. It might have looked a bit silly, but I knew that if Gemma saw it, she would know I was reaching out to her.

Max spoke next, reiterating what I had said and saying we were a really close family and so wanted her back.

Once we had all had our turn to speak, there was a question-and-answer session with the press. The floodgates opened as all the reporters started shouting questions at me. After a while, Jason Tingley stepped in. He could see that it was all getting too much for me and he said that questions should be addressed to him only. He didn’t reveal all the facts about the case as it was important to hold back various details. That way, if anybody came forward with any information, the police could verify that it tallied with their own information.

After about 20 minutes, the press conference was over and Max and I left the room. The moment I got through the door, I collapsed to the floor and started howling like a wounded animal. I don’t remember any of this. It was like I’d passed out, unaware of my actions, but Chloe and Darcee said the noise I was making was almost inhuman, and they were very upset about the state I was in. They helped me to my feet and kept talking to bring me back round.

A little while later, once I’d had a chance to compose myself, Max and I did an interview with a journalist from ITV’s
Daybreak
,
which was then circulated to other broadcasters. We only agreed to this because we knew how important it was to get the story out. If anyone thinks you get to feel like a celebrity when this sort of thing is going on, you are very much mistaken. The whole experience made me feel sick.

I was completely shell-shocked and felt utterly exhausted, but the police media team reassured us that what we had done would create the best possible press coverage for the search to find Gemma and Forrest. Nick Cloke said we had done really well.

Back in the car on the way home, Hannah asked me a question which no mother should ever have to hear: ‘When Gemma is found, do you give your permission for her to be medically examined once she is taken into protective custody?’ My heart went cold. To be fair to her, Hannah had to ask me that question and she quickly explained that if Gemma didn’t agree to an examination, they wouldn’t force her.

Even at this point, when I knew there was a sexual issue to consider, I just wanted to block it out. I wasn’t being naïve about it, I just couldn’t face the idea of my little girl and this wicked, predatory teacher together.

Luckily for me, there were other things to consider. Paul had picked up Alfie after his first day at school and taken him to McDonald’s as a special treat, and I was determined to give him the fuss he deserved when I got home. I ran into the house, scooped him up in my arms and gave him the biggest cuddle ever. It was as if I had an on-off switch – seeing Alfie’s happy little face helped me step out of the Gemma nightmare and switch back into normal life. To totally put aside problems and concentrate on getting the necessary done is a great coping mechanism.

Alfie was desperate to tell me all about his first day at school, what he had done, what his teachers were like and the new friends that he had made. He is such a lovely, friendly little boy and always so enthusiastic. He was really excited and almost bouncing off the walls, filling me in on his day. I made a special point of saying how grown-up he was, going off to big school now.

We knew that details from the press conference and Gemma’s photograph were likely to be all over the television news reports, so Paul hid the remote control to make sure that Alfie wouldn’t switch on and see his big sister on TV. Like every child, Alfie loves to watch the telly, so instead we said he could watch a movie before he went to bed as a treat. We told him that we had turned the house into a special cinema and that was why all the curtains were drawn and the blinds were down.

To this day, Alfie and Lilly have no idea about anything that has happened, and it is something I am extremely proud of.

As we were enjoying family time with Alfie, the phone rang. It was Mr Worship, from Gemma’s school. This was the first contact that I’d had with the school for days, apart from a rather random call from someone called Mr Corbitt, who was clearly clueless about the situation. He wanted to know the details of the case and said, ‘I’ll be at the school until four pm. If you find her can you call me back?’ Then he rang off without giving me his number.

While I was trying to remain calm for Alfie’s sake, I took the call in the back garden and gave Mr Worship five barrels of my fury. I told him that I was absolutely disgusted with the school and the insulting lack of contact and support that I’d had. I told him my mother and sister had been over to the school on
the Friday to see if they could find out any information and all they had been offered was a cup of tea and a prayer. And as for that letter about extra maths tuition … That was just a sick joke.