The Runaway Schoolgirl

by Davina Williams

  This book is dedicated to all of my children.

  I love you and I am so very proud of you.

  CONTENTS

  Title Page

  Dedication

  PREFACE

  PART ONE: TORN APART

  CHAPTER 1: FRIDAY, 21 SEPTEMBER 2012

  CHAPTER 2: SIX MONTHS EARLIER

  CHAPTER 3: SUMMER HOLIDAYS

  CHAPTER 4: BACK TO SCHOOL

  CHAPTER 5: ‘WE KNOW WHO SHE’S WITH …’

  CHAPTER 6: A WEEKEND OF WAITING

  CHAPTER 7: FAMILY TREE

  CHAPTER 8: NATIONAL AND INTERNATIONAL NEWS

  CHAPTER 9: NO CONTACT, PLEASE

  CHAPTER 10: ‘TELL ME THE TRUTH’

  CHAPTER 11: THE WAITING GAME CONTINUES

  CHAPTER 12: SHE’S SAFE

  CHAPTER 13: OPERATION CAR SWITCH

  CHAPTER 14: TIME TO REFLECT

  CHAPTER 15: CHALLENGING SUBJECTS

  CHAPTER 16: ‘NORMALITY’

  CHAPTER 17: FORREST RETURNS

  CHAPTER 18: THE NEED TO TALK

  CHAPTER 19: I WANT ANSWERS

  CHAPTER 20: NEW ‘FRIENDS’

  CHAPTER 21: TRYING TO HOLD IT TOGETHER

  CHAPTER 22: SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL

  CHAPTER 23: FACE TO FACE WITH FORREST

  CHAPTER 24: GEMMA’S PLEA

  CHAPTER 25: MORE DETAILS REVEALED

  CHAPTER 26: NEW HOUSE, NEW START

  CHAPTER 27: WORK-LIFE BALANCE

  CHAPTER 28: LAST-CHANCE SALOON

  CHAPTER 29: A SIGNIFICANT BIRTHDAY

  PART TWO: THE TRIAL

  CHAPTER 30: DAY 1: MONDAY, 10 JUNE

  CHAPTER 31: DAY 2: TUESDAY, 11 JUNE

  CHAPTER 32: DAY 3: WEDNESDAY, 12 JUNE

  CHAPTER 33: DAY 4: THURSDAY, 13 JUNE

  CHAPTER 34: DAY 5: FRIDAY, 14 JUNE

  CHAPTER 35: THE WEEKEND: SATURDAY, 15 JUNE AND SUNDAY, 16 JUNE

  CHAPTER 36: DAY 6: MONDAY, 17 JUNE

  CHAPTER 37: DAY 7: TUESDAY, 18 JUNE

  CHAPTER 38: DAY 8: WEDNESDAY, 19 JUNE

  CHAPTER 39: DAY 9: THURSDAY, 20 JUNE

  CHAPTER 40: DAY 10: FRIDAY, 21 JUNE

  PART THREE: THE AFTERMATH

  CHAPTER 41: HITTING THE HEADLINES AGAIN

  CHAPTER 42: FORREST’S SISTER IN THE SPOTLIGHT

  CHAPTER 43: BACK TO WORK

  CHAPTER 44: THE PARASITE IS ARRESTED

  CHAPTER 45: THE REUNION

  CHAPTER 46: MOVING FORWARD

  CHAPTER 47: RELIVING THE PAST YEAR

  CHAPTER 48: MORE SAD GOODBYES

  CHAPTER 49: ANSWERS AT LAST

  CHAPTER 50: MORE BATTLES TO FIGHT

  CHAPTER 51: REDUNDANCY

  CHAPTER 52: A NEW PROJECT

  AFTERWORD

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  Plates

  Copyright

  PREFACE

  ‘She said they wanted privacy, that her family just wanted to be allowed to get on with their lives. So why is the mother of the Runaway Schoolgirl writing a book? She’s just cashing in on what happened to her daughter …’

  I know that I’m going to receive a lot of criticism for writing this book, but it was something that I felt I needed to do. My friends and family have always been incredibly supportive and have never once not respected my wishes not to contact the press, but now I feel that the time is right for me to give my side of the story.

  Rest assured, I am not doing it for the money. If it was money I was after, I would have taken up one of the six-figure deals that was offered to me when my daughter disappeared.

  Hopefully this book will put the record straight about how it feels to have your teenage daughter stolen from you. She had just turned fifteen; he was twice her age and knew he was breaking the law. Let me ask you, if you had a daughter, would you let her teacher do this to her?

  Now it’s my turn to tell you exactly what happened.

  UNDER S. 1(1) OF THE SEXUAL OFFENCES (AMENDMENT) ACT 1992, WHICH PROVIDES ANONYMITY FROM PUBLICATION TO THE VICTIMS OF SEXUAL CRIME ‘DURING THAT PERSON’S LIFETIME’, SOME NAMES HAVE BEEN CHANGED TO PROTECT THE INNOCENT. IN SOME CASES, PSEUDONYMS USED BY THE PRESS REPLACE REAL NAMES.

  PART ONE

  TORN APART

  CHAPTER 1

  FRIDAY, 21 SEPTEMBER 2012

  It was just a normal day. My eighteen-year-old son Lee was at work with my partner Paul and my fifteen-year-old daughter Gemma was at school. My four-year-old, Alfie, was at nursery and my baby daughter Lilly was having a morning nap. I was sitting at the kitchen table, flicking through the Argos catalogue looking for furniture for the new house. We hadn’t found the right place yet, but with four children at home and my middle daughter Maddie, who was eleven, staying at her dad Max’s place, we needed more space.

  I was looking at bedroom furniture for Gemma when I received a text message from her school telling me that she hadn’t turned up for registration that morning. There was a number to call or I could text a reply.

  I knew I shouldn’t have let her go to her friend Louise’s for a sleepover on a school night, I thought. Gemma had pleaded with me to let her go, as Louise’s dad was working late and she didn’t want to be on her own. ‘Just this once,’ I told her, ‘but make sure you get up for school in time. I don’t want any phone calls saying you two haven’t turned up!’

  They were good girls. I didn’t want them to be up all night chatting and then sleep through their alarm the next day, but I felt I could trust them.

  I wasn’t overly alarmed when I saw the text from the school. I knew they weren’t playing truant – they never had, it just wasn’t their thing. I sent a text straight back, asking them to confirm if Gemma hadn’t been marked in for her first lesson.

  Nearly an hour later, I received another text saying, ‘Gemma is still showing absent’, and I got straight on the phone to the school and asked the secretary to find out if Louise knew where Gemma was. I told her I would hang on while she went to check. In the back of my mind, an alarm bell rang. I sensed that something wasn’t quite right, but I tried to dismiss it. It was probably a mistake, I told myself, Gemma would be in a different lesson.

  After what seemed like hours, the school secretary came back on the phone, saying that Louise had told her that Gemma hadn’t stayed at hers after all. Gemma had said that she was feeling unwell and had gone back home.

  All of a sudden the alarm bells in my head got louder. I told the secretary that Gemma hadn’t come home the night before. She went very quiet. After a short while, she spoke: ‘I think you should call the police …’

  I remember looking at my phone and, as I dialled 999, thinking this isn’t happening to me. When I heard the voice at the other end of the line I had to concentrate on every syllable. ‘My daugh-ter is miss-ing …’ It felt like an out-of-body experience, as if it wasn’t me who was forming the words. It was like I was behind glass, looking at myself making the call. I can’t remember exactly what the operator said to me, but the gist of it was that they were going to send someone over to the house.

  I called Paul, Mum and my sister Charlotte, and told them that Gemma was missing. They all said they would be on their way.

  I didn’t know what to do with myself, so I went up to Gemma’s bedroom. Already I had been in her room that day to measure up for furniture and I remember cursing her for the state it was in – drawers pulled out, clothes everywhere, your typical messy teenager.

  I tried to kid myself that maybe she had been there all along, hiding under her bed or in a wardrobe, like it was just a silly game of hide and seek. I ripped off the duvet, looked under the bed and even heaved up the mattress, trying to convince myself she was somehow hiding there. I know it was ridiculous, but my
mind was all over the place.

  Random ideas started swimming around my head. What if Gemma had got back home late and couldn’t get in? Maybe she had climbed over the garden fence and was asleep in the shed? The shed was packed full of junk, but could she have squeezed in somewhere? I ran to the end of the garden and checked it. I knew it was stupid, but I had to rule out everywhere, even daft places like small cupboards that she couldn’t possibly fit into.

  I put up a message on my Facebook page: ‘Has anyone seen my Gemma?’ I got lots of replies asking for more details, but I only wanted to be told one thing – that someone knew where she was.

  I just wanted to know she was somewhere safe. I called her friends Louise and Ben over and over again to find out if they knew anything, but I never got through. I felt like a zombie. ‘Gemma doesn’t like the dark,’ I couldn’t stop thinking. ‘I hope she’s not scared …’

  Finally, I went out to the front of the house and stood in the driveway. I just didn’t want to be inside. ‘If I’m not in there, then this isn’t happening,’ I thought. Mum, Charlotte, Paul and Lee arrived, and eventually they convinced me to go back indoors. Then we waited for what seemed like an eternity for the police to turn up. I think by this time I was in shock; I just couldn’t function. I wasn’t thinking the worst – that maybe she had been in an accident or attacked – because I wasn’t thinking anything at all. I was totally numb.

  Charlotte called Max, my ex. When he arrived, he, Charlotte and Lee went on Twitter and other social networking sites to spread the message further. Lee then went out with a group of friends in a car, searching the streets looking for Gemma and contacted everyone he knew, but he came back beaten and desperate that nobody had any news. Meanwhile, Mum and Charlotte went over to the school to see if they had any more information, but left with nothing more than the offer of a cup of tea and a prayer.

  Paul and I were racking our brains about who Gemma could possibly be with, and I sent a text to Gemma’s friend Ben to see if he knew anything. He eventually replied, saying: ‘The only thing she said to me at school was that she didn’t want to be here, but I thought it was just because of the rumours. Me and Louise are her only close friends and we don’t know where she could have gone because she didn’t mention anything.’

  I knew what he meant about the rumours – there had been some gossip involving Gemma and one of her teachers that had been doing the rounds, but I had dismissed it at the time.

  Then two policemen turned up at the house and started asking the standard ‘missing person’ questions. ‘What’s her full name?’ ‘Her date of birth?’ ‘When did you last see her?’ ‘What’s the name of her doctor and dentist?’ I didn’t really understand that last question at the time, but I later realised they were thinking that, if their worst fears were to come true, they would need Gemma’s medical records to identify her body.

  One of the officers asked me if Gemma and I had rowed before she disappeared, or if there was any reason why she may have had to run away, and it was then that the penny dropped. I remember thinking, ‘Oh my God, they think I’ve killed her! They actually think I have killed my own daughter.’ Of course I know now that they were only doing their job, but I couldn’t take it all in at the time.

  I felt like I was going mad. I couldn’t believe this was happening to me.

  The police then asked if Gemma’s passport was missing – and, of course, when we went to check it wasn’t in the usual place where we keep it. Two more officers from CID then arrived as the other two left and took a statement from me so that they could conduct a full police search. They also took one of my favourite school photos of Gemma in her Year 10 uniform. This was the picture that would later be splashed all over the newspapers throughout the following weeks.

  I remember thinking: ‘This is silly, she’ll be home at 5pm. She’s always home by then.’ Then, just before 5pm, there was a knock on the door and two more police officers were standing there. I recognised one of them as he was assigned to Gemma’s school and was also one of Max’s colleagues.

  He looked me in the eye. ‘We need you to sit down,’ he said. ‘We know who she’s with.’

  CHAPTER 2

  SIX MONTHS EARLIER

  In March 2012 I received a phone call out of the blue from Miss Shackleton, who was the deputy head at Gemma’s school, Kennedy High School in Eastbourne. She was also head of child safeguarding at the school, and it was in this capacity that she was contacting me.

  She told me that Gemma had recently confided in a teacher that she was bulimic and had been self-harming. My first reaction was one of total disbelief: Gemma didn’t have any problems with eating and was totally healthy. As for cutting herself, that was just ridiculous. Gemma never made any attempt to hide her body from me and, anyway, surely I would have noticed if she had any marks on her? Gemma and I have always been really close and she would have told me if she was upset about anything. She just wasn’t that kind of girl.

  I assured Miss Shackleton that I would make an appointment for Gemma to have a check-up with the doctor and talk everything through with her. I accepted the fact that my daughter might have wanted to talk to a teacher as she was under so much pressure to do well in her GCSEs. I could understand that she might have been struggling with all the extra tuition, as the school had such high expectations of her, but surely the idea of bulimia and self-harming was a misunderstanding?

  During the conversation Miss Shackleton also mentioned that Gemma had been seen holding hands with Mr Forrest, the teacher in whom she had confided, on the flight home from a school trip to America in February. My first thought was that, like me, Gemma is terrified of flying and perhaps Mr Forrest had been trying to calm her down, but I wasn’t happy about the idea of a teacher holding hands with my daughter. I pressed Miss Shackleton, but she told me it wasn’t anything to be concerned about. She said she had already investigated and reassured me that it was nothing more than a supportive gesture during the flight. She just wanted me to know that the matter was in hand and that all was well; there was nothing untoward to be worried about.

  When Gemma returned home from school that night I sat her down and we had a long talk. She told me that there had been stupid rumours going round about Mr Forrest holding her hand, but that it was just because she was so scared of flying, and she insisted that the self-harming thing was ridiculous. As for the bulimia, well, yes, she had been sick at school, she admitted, but it had been because she was so worried about getting through her exams.

  I told her that she shouldn’t put pressure on herself; if she didn’t get the results she was aiming for, she would always have the option of doing re-takes at college. I didn’t want her to become ill for the sake of her GCSEs and I also wanted her to understand that she wasn’t under any pressure from anyone at home to get results. In my opinion, Kennedy High School was way too demanding. Instead of inspiring the pupils, the school just put them under huge amounts of stress.

  Gemma and I hugged each other and during the weeks that followed we were closer than ever. She duly went along to see the doctor, who confirmed that physically she was perfectly healthy, and the whole drama seemed to blow over. Nonetheless, over the next few weeks, I made sure to look out for any telltale signs of an eating disorder, and I asked the older members of the family to be watchful and let me know if they thought Gemma was ever acting out of character. I wanted to keep a close eye on her, so I reminded her to make sure that she carried on texting me regularly when she wasn’t at home. On one occasion, when Paul and I were visiting his family in Somerset and Gemma was staying with her nan, I virtually had hourly updates from her, telling me everything was fine.

  Around three months after that first call from Miss Shackleton, on 11 June 2012, I gave birth to my beautiful baby daughter Lilly by C-section. On the same day, Miss Shackleton phoned again, but this time the call went to voicemail. There were a few complications with Lilly’s birth and so it would be another three days before I was able to get
back to her, and I left her a message with the receptionist. I asked Gemma if there was anything I needed to know, but she assured me there was nothing to worry about. I wondered if it was simply a courtesy call to check everything was back on track.

  Miss Shackleton and I then played a bit of phone tennis. When she didn’t get back to me I just assumed everything was fine now.

  How wrong I was …

  CHAPTER 3

  SUMMER HOLIDAYS

  Towards the end of July, around a week before the school was due to break up for the summer holidays, I received a phone call from Mr Forrest, Gemma’s teacher.

  He was absolutely distraught. ‘Some of the pupils are spreading rumours that I am having a relationship with Gemma and it’s ruining my life,’ he told me. When people asked Gemma if there was any truth in the story, he added, she neither denied nor confirmed it, and it had now got to the stage where it was affecting his relationship with his wife. He was sorry to put me in a difficult position, he said, but something had to be done about it as Gemma was, as he put it, being ‘a bit of a pain’.

  His voice was shaking to begin with, but he wasn’t stumbling over his words. It was almost as if he had a script in front of him. But then he broke down and sobbed down the phone. ‘You have to quash this rumour,’ he pleaded. ‘It just can’t go on, it will destroy my career. It must be sorted out by the time we come back in September.’

  Mr Forrest told me that he had been trying to support Gemma with her bulimia and self-harm issues, but that was the full extent of their relationship. It was just a teenage crush that had got out of hand.

  I was gob-smacked. I was so angry, I couldn’t believe what I was hearing and felt sick with shock. And yet from the tone of Mr Forrest’s voice, I couldn’t help but feel that he was telling the truth. He sounded so sincere, honest and vulnerable, and I felt so ashamed that Gemma could have behaved in this way. I assured him that I would deal with her and make sure the rumour was stopped once and for all. I’ve always brought up my children to respect other people and I was furious that matters were getting out of hand.