It’s heart-breaking to hear Marie speak like this. I’m sure there are many who feel that she got what she deserved, but for me, right here and now, I don’t believe that is true. Marie, at least, sought out help. She was upfront about the fact she was struggling, both financially and mentally.
—I feel that Kirsty never forgave me for giving her away like I did, but it was for her – it was so that she didn’t have to be raised by someone like me.
Marie put one-year-old Kirsty into foster care with South Lanarkshire’s children’s services. It was a decision that broke more than just her heart, but she tells me she never doubted it was the right one to make. She simply could not cope and wanted Kirsty to have a better life.
—People have their opinions about me for sending her away when she was a baby. But really, what did I have to offer a little girl? A disgusting little flat in a tower block, where all the furniture was broken and the lift didn’t even work. Worst of all, me. What did I have? No job, no hope. I couldn’t cook. I had no idea how on earth to be a mum. I wanted better for my child. That’s all I wanted.
Marie was not in a good place. She could barely look after herself, and while some see giving her daughter away as throwing in the towel, there is an argument that it was a selfless act. I am not here to judge Marie on her decision.
Baby Kirsty was eventually adopted.
—They were a lovely couple. A bit older. Always wanted a little one but couldn’t. I never met them, but the social worker gave me a letter that they’d written to me. I still read it occasionally and still cry every time, all these years later. They told me I could write to Kirsty. Social services would put them in the ‘life book’ that she would get when she was old enough. Eighteen. It seemed a long, long time away. They said that I could visit. When she was old enough to understand. They said they would sort it out. You know, it was that that kept me going. It was that that stopped me ending it all. It drove me forward. Small steps, but forward steps. I started looking out for myself a bit more. I just kept thinking about what Kirsty would think when she was older.
Marie was as good as her word. She wrote to her daughter weekly, saving up the letters and delivering them to social services.
—I was getting myself back together, but it was a slow process. It wasn’t easy. I was a wreck. A broken person. The good days were outweighed by the bad ones, when I’d just lie on the sofa staring at the wall. I wouldn’t wash, wouldn’t eat, wouldn’t clean up. He’d taken everything from me. He’d ruined me. It was years and years later when I went into therapy, when that man paid for me to speak to a professional. That’s when I began to heal. That was when I began to learn real things about myself. I knew then I never should have had a kid. My own parents had no idea how to parent, so what hope did I have?
Anyway, I’m not the victim in all this. Not by a long way. I was taking it a day at a time, every day would be one closer to that eighteen-year sentence. Every day was one day closer to seeing her again, to making it up.
Nine years I did it. Nine years, a day at a time, then everything fell apart.
When things began to unravel for Kirsty, it wasn’t anything to do with Marie. It’s not possible for me to find out a great deal about what happened. I can only go on what Marie tells me. She said she didn’t hear anything about it until Kirsty was suddenly transferred from her adoptive family to a children’s home.
—I was going out of my mind. I still wasn’t allowed to see her. All I knew was that she was now in a home. I was terrified. I’d been in and out of those places when I was a kid, when my parents wanted rid of me. I know things are different now, the facilities are better, but the feeling never goes away. That feeling that you’re not wanted. That shame is like acid – it burns and burns, right down into your bones, right through into your heart, through your heart and into your very being. It becomes you. I couldn’t have that happen to my Kirsty. But what could I do?
I eventually found out it was because of her behaviour. After all that time her adoptive parents decided they couldn’t cope with her anymore and gave her up. Just like that. It was disgusting. I was raging. I wanted to find those people and … well…
Kirsty and Marie were eventually reunited. Marie took this perceived slight against her daughter as motivation to get herself together. Eventually, after some supervised visits and gradual contact, Kirsty was released into Marie’s full custody. She was eleven years old.
—It wasn’t easy for either of us. I’d moved to Perth, the fair city, to try and start again, you know? I had a job. This would have been, what ninety-five, ninety-six? It was ninety-six, cos that was the Euros wasn’t it? I was working in a bar on the football days and it was manic. I would get home, shattered. Then I’d have to cook and clean and be a mum. Don’t get me wrong, I loved it. I loved every second of it. This was a privilege. We didn’t have much, but I gave her everything I could. I still would.
It was only after living together for a few, idyllic months, that Marie started to notice some of Kirsty’s more challenging behaviours.
—Things would go missing, turn up again in funny places. It wasn’t stealing. I think it was an attention thing. Nothing valuable – it wasn’t money or anything, but, for example, my spatula might disappear, just gone from the kitchen drawer, then reappear under my pillow. That sort of thing. It was all about challenging me. I’d already given her away, and her adoption hadn’t worked out. She was testing me, challenging me. I don’t blame her. I never have.
—What was she like, day to day?
—She was quiet … sat in her bedroom listening to music … his music. She had posters of him all over the walls. She’d cut out every article in every magazine about him and made a collage with them. She was utterly obsessed.
—Did that trouble you?
—Maybe, in hindsight, but at the time – you tell me who wasn’t obsessed with him back then. Of course, Kirsty was growing up, becoming a young woman, and things began to get a little bit … Well, show me a parent who doesn’t have a bit of a rough time with their kids and I’ll show you a liar. We had our ups and downs, sure. There were arguments.
—Were they just normal young-girl-parent arguments?
—I’ve always felt so guilty – there’s always been that thing between us: the fact that I gave her away. It’s always been there, no matter how many times I explained it to her. I’ve always wondered if she secretly hates me for it. Maybe she does. I don’t know. Kirsty acted like most girls would – sulking, staying in her bedroom, playing his music really loudly. The thing was, with all the guilt I felt, I never really knew what to do. I would just end up beating myself up about it, you know? It always felt like it was my fault in the end.
I think I let her get away with too much, but it was never bad stuff, drink and drugs.
—What was it?
—We didn’t have a computer at home so Kirsty spent a lot of time at the library. I know she was there because I would go with her, do the shopping in the precinct nearby, you know? The bar was near too, so she could go to the library sometimes when I worked in the day. But it wasn’t books she was interested in, it was the internet. She was on the fan sites and the forums, talking about him with all the other fans all over the world. I didn’t mind. In fact, I was kind of glad she’d found her tribe, her people. So I saved up and we got a computer at home. We got the internet. That was a mistake.
This was 2004 when Kirsty was twelve. Marie says her phone line was constantly in use by Kirsty. MySpace was ascending rapidly as a social network and Kirsty was amassing thousands of friends, talking to them on forums and chat rooms long into the night. Marie says she never monitored Kirsty, never poked her nose into what she was doing.
—I wanted her to know I trusted her. That was so important for us. It would have been different if she’d been out, causing trouble, but she wasn’t. She didn’t really have friends in school – all her life was online. On the … on the forums talking about him. She wasn’t interested in
anything else. She barely spoke to me.
—That must have been so tough.
—She never wanted to do anything else except talk to other fans. It was hard. I was beaten down by all of it, by everything. I wasn’t coping. I just wanted to find something, some common ground that we could share. That’s why I made such a stupid decision – a whole load of stupid decisions, really.
Marie sighs and sits back in her chair. The cat on the windowsill stretches itself out and glances around before hunkering down and resuming its observation of the front drive. I’m still getting over the juxtaposition between Marie and her beautiful house. I excuse myself to go to the bathroom – all modern fixtures, a bath sunken into the floor. I look through the door of her bedroom. It has a gigantic bed, a view out of the window over the Moray Firth. But everything is shabby, the bed isn’t made, and the bathroom could do with a scrub. I know money doesn’t buy happiness, but here, it looks like these lavish surroundings have fallen into disrepair. One door remains closed, upstairs. Kirsty’s bedroom I presume. I don’t look inside.
—I was clearing up her bedroom. It was a tip – full of mouldy cups and plates, you know? She was only twelve. Twelve going on sixteen. There was one of her magazines lying on the bed, open, and I don’t know what it was that caught my eye. I just … I don’t know why I did it.
There was a full-page spread in Whoop! magazine documenting Zach Crystal’s accident at Crystal Forest and how he was currently an inpatient at Raigmore Hospital, Inverness, with a broken leg. Next to it, half finished, was a get-well-soon card that Kirsty had made herself.
—It sounds soft, but it brought me to tears. It was beautiful – decorated with glitter and stickers. She’d clearly spent a lot of time on it, you know? That’s what gave me stupid idea number one.
Marie waited for Kirsty to return home and nonchalantly explained she’d heard on the news about Crystal’s accident. Kirsty told her mother she was making a card for the star and asked if Marie would put it in the post.
—So I says ‘why don’t we go up there together and you can give it to him yourself?’ The way her face lit up … What an idiot I was. It was a couple of hours on the train to get to Inverness and we’d go through the Cairngorms. I would pack up some food, we’d make a day of it. Kirsty was over the moon. She was so happy, she hugged me. Finally, I thought, finally, I’m getting through to her. Finally, I’m being a good mother.
Zach Crystal spent a few days at Raigmore hospital with his leg in a cast after falling while rehearsing for his South American tour. After that, there was a long convalescence at Crystal Forest and physical therapy. Marie remembers that the train journey from Perth to Inverness was stunning. The Highland main line winds through the Cairngorms National Park and the weather was clear enough to show off the park’s stunning natural beauty. Kirsty happily chatted to her mother the whole way, about Zach Crystal, of course.
—I didn’t mind. It was what she was passionate about. She told me all about him, his hard life growing up and playing in bars with his sister in England, how he’d bought this huge piece of forest up in Colliecrith. I didn’t know he was so close. She played me some of his music on her Discman … Aye it was OK. I told her all about The Beatles in the sixties and the Bay City Rollers. I told her how the girls went wild over them too.
‘He’s different, Mum,’ she kept saying, ‘he’s different to all them.’
I have to say – and it sounds so daft – but that journey, that train ride, was the best time of my life. When we got there … not so much.
On arrival in Inverness, it was clear what a huge deal Zach Crystal was. The route to Raigmore hospital was being controlled by police to ensure ambulances could get in and out. No taxis or cars were allowed anywhere near. The city was more or less in gridlock. Marie tells me she had not anticipated the sheer scale of this.
—There were police all over. We got the number two bus, which was full of girls Kirsty’s age and older. They were all carrying flowers and teddies and all sorts. There were people with speakers, playing his music. It was a carnival atmosphere. It really was something else. We got as close as we could and I just thought, now what?
Marie pushed forward with the crowd, closer and closer to the side of the hospital where Zach Crystal’s window was visible. The thronging crowd got larger and larger and as the hours went by, they got closer and closer to the front.
—The closer we got, it was crazy – there were girls screaming and fainting. At one point there was a movement at his window, and I thought we were going to be crushed to death. We were due to get the train back at four, but there was no way, no way in hell, that I was going to tell her we had to leave.
The police had erected a cordon with crowd-control barriers. Marie says the atmosphere had gone from jovial to hysterical, and she began to get a little worried.
—There were lassies passing out, people thirsty and hungry. They’d been there all day. There were some real … I don’t want to say nutters, you know? But real super-fans.
—What was their behaviour like?
—It troubled me; it was odd. They were all screaming, as you’d expect, but the screams were … I dunno. They weren’t the screams of wild fans – they were short, sharp blasts, like a chant. They did them all together as well. I thought it was something to do with him, that I was just old, I just didn’t understand. But then, remember that interview he did with Ruby Rendall, when the crowd were all twitching and screeching? That brought it all back. That’s what it was like.
—How was Kirsty through all this? Did she join in?
—She was … I’d never seen her like it. She never took her eyes off that window. When he opened the blind and waved, there was just this roar from everyone, girls screaming, crying. It was bedlam.
Marie and Kirsty found themselves close to the front of the cordon, where a few policemen had been joined by Zach Crystal’s own security. That’s when, Marie says, she had stupid idea number two.
—I remembered Take That back in the nineties, how much they meant to me. How much they meant to so many young women and girls. There was a helpline set up when they broke up, you remember?
—I do.
—And I just … I wanted this to be a memory for Kirsty. I knew that at some point, probably sooner than later, I would lose her. I just wanted her to have something in the bank, some happy memories with me, you know? That’s where stupid idea number two came from.
Marie held Kirsty up as they reached the front of the barricade, and Kirsty handed her card to one of Zach Crystal’s security team, who smiled back and pocketed the envelope.
—Kirsty was made up. I thought the guy was just being kind, you know? Just pretending. The card would end up in the bin. I never thought he’d even hear about it…
As darkness fell, Kirsty finally conceded it was time to leave. The pair picked up a pizza, which they shared on the train home, and as night fell across the rolling forests of the Cairngorms, Marie felt that finally, her life was changing. She was right. Although not in the way she had hoped.
—It was the next day, early in the morning, when the phone goes. I nearly didn’t make it – I was washing my hair. I pick it up and there’s this soft voice on the other end asking if he could speak to Kirsty. I asked who it was and he says it’s him. Crystal.
—Did you believe it?
—I thought actually it was Kirsty, you know, playing a prank, so I says I’ll go get her, trying to catch her out. She was asleep. I said to her, all nonchalant, like, ‘Morning love, Zach Crystal on the phone for you.’
Well, she jumps out of bed, and I still think this is all some prank, some joke. But she’s shaking. Actually shaking. She says she can’t believe it. She gets on the phone and the poor girl can barely speak. Then she hands it over to me and says he wants to talk. I’m laughing away, but when I get on the line … I dunno, there’s something in his voice. I just … Suddenly it’s not funny anymore.
—What did he say?
; —The guy was polite. He was soft, like I said. He told me how beautiful Kirsty’s card was, what a beautiful and talented young girl she is and he hopes things are OK at home. I’m all over the place. I don’t know what he’s on about. I said they were, thank you very much, and next thing he asks if we want to come and visit when he’s back on his feet. It was surreal. I thought I was dreaming. I look at Kirsty, who’s like a little puppy, her eyes all wide. I say OK, I say sure. It was all very strange.
—How did he get your number? Zach Crystal must have received thousands of similar cards. Why Kirsty?
—I asked Kirsty the very same question. Her answer … Oh my God, I still feel it. I still feel that chill that went through me. Kirsty told me she’d put other things in the card, after I’d seen it. Our house phone number, our address. Her email, her MySpace page, everything.
I’m not daft. I know what it’s like to worship a pop star, to want nothing more than them to notice you. I get it. It wasn’t even that that upset me, you know?
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