The Runaway Schoolgirl

by Davina Williams

  So there I was at the meeting, all suited and booted and ready to go. The people there were all so caring and understanding, and the head of department kicked off proceedings by welcoming me back. Everything was kept really light-hearted. I had been with the company for 10 years and had lots of friends whom I had stayed in touch with while I was away, so there was no awkwardness with close colleagues. Of course, some people there didn’t know me well and didn’t really know what to say to me, but that was fine – I realised it wasn’t exactly an everyday situation to be in.

  The meeting went well and I was all set to get back to work and looking forward to getting back to my usual routine. Luckily, my job involved working with teams of young people and I was always called by my first name, so my workmates would be unlikely to spot the link between me and Gemma’s case. The court order came in really handy in this respect because my name was no longer being used in the press coverage. Obviously the senior management team was aware of it, but those who knew what was happening were very respectful and didn’t mention anything.

  My job required me to audit stock in stores all over the south of England. It involved quite a lot of travelling, as the company was revamping the stores and implementing a new system. I was working between a number of stores, managing different teams in several areas, and I was looking forward to being able to step out of the chaos at home and be someone else for three days a week.

  I knew it would be a real shock to the system to begin with, having to get up at 6.30am and getting the kids dressed, fed and off to nursery and school, but once I was sitting on the train for my commute into work, I would be able to breathe and step out of all of the stresses of Gemma’s situation. It was a great feeling to know I was going to be a working mum again.

  I took pride in the way I dressed – I think it’s important to look professional for work – and it felt good to have to wear dresses and make-up again. I’d lived in loose, comfy clothes after Lilly was born, but now I was back being me. Working in all sorts of different locations meant I would have plenty of time on the train to get my thoughts together, to process what was going on at home and face the challenges ahead.

  But my dream of getting life back on an even keel didn’t last long.

  When I returned from Manchester with Paul, everything seemed fine at home. Paul’s mum said that she and Gemma had had a really nice time together with no dramas. Then Gemma took one look at me and snapped. I snapped back: ‘Don’t talk to me like that!’ With that, she said, ‘I’m sick to death of this, I’m sick to death of you!’, and stormed upstairs.

  She then came downstairs with her bags packed, saying she was going to stay with Max. She claimed I wasn’t telling her everything and complained that I was siding with the police and the social workers. I knew she was in a very bad place, but I’d always tried so hard to tell her everything I knew about the case. I had given her a list of numbers of everyone involved and had told her that they would be only too happy to go through any details with her, but she never once called anyone.

  I just wasn’t telling her what she wanted to hear – she wanted me to tell her that everything would turn out alright and that she would soon be back with Forrest – and she hated me for it. She knew, too, that I hated the parasites who were trying to befriend her, but as far as she was concerned, they were the only ones on her side. The way she saw it, I was just against her the whole time.

  She called Max and he came and picked her up. He shrugged – he knew that I’d tried my hardest to make things work with her, but he wanted to be a good dad for her, too.

  When I called Max later that night to check everything was OK, he told me that he thought she just needed some space away from the constant phone calls and appointments with the police, support workers and various other people involved with the case. I could understand that, but I was worried she might run away again. I was also concerned that she had become unhealthily close to that woman in Hertfordshire. After all, that awful woman had been to see Forrest in prison, and I am sure that she would have been only too happy to offer Gemma a place to stay.

  For the time being, though, she was staying put at Max’s and I was getting regular reports back that things were OK. Max and I have differing views on parenting at times. He wanted to allow Gemma more space, but I was concerned about how she had been affected by everything that had happened over the past few months. I thought she was broken and needed much closer attention. I wouldn’t have been surprised in the slightest had she decided to head up to Hertfordshire on the spur of the moment, or turned up on the doorstep of Forrest’s parents.

  In the past, when we had previously had typical parent–child disagreements, Gemma and I always stayed in touch by text – the odd word such as ‘You OK?’ or ‘Goodnight’, things like that. We both hated falling out with each other and those texts were very important to us both because we knew, underneath it all, that we still loved each other very much. I know it seems odd to some people that we can be not speaking to each other and yet still texting one another, but that’s just the way we are. So when the texts from Gemma totally stopped I was heartbroken. She didn’t want anything to do with me. I wrote her a long email, telling her how much I loved her, and I continued to send her ‘I love you’ texts, but I got no reply.

  I tried nice texts, loving texts and then, finally, an angry text. The second I sent it I regretted it. I immediately sent an apology text, but heard nothing back.

  After a few days, I thought that’s it, she’s not coming back. I remember sitting watching the ABBA film, Mamma Mia!, and hearing the song, ‘Slipping Through My Fingers’, about a young girl growing up and leaving home. Tears started to stream down my face – I knew my darling Gemma had slipped through my fingers, too.

  Every line of that song was so poignant – ‘That feeling that I’m losing her forever. I let precious time go by. Then when she’s gone, there’s that odd melancholy feeling, and a sense of guilt I can’t deny. Each time I think I’m close to knowing, she keeps on growing, slipping through my fingers all the time …’

  I had lost her and there was nothing I could do about it.

  In desperation, I spoke to Sarah and she said that I should try writing all of my feelings in a letter to Gemma, so I did, scanning pictures of her when she was a little girl and sharing the memories I had of her. I wanted her to remember how much we’d been through together and I was in floods of tears as I wrote to her. I lost count of how many times I started the letter, but finally I finished it and posted it off to her.

  But still I heard nothing back from her.

  I didn’t know it at the time, of course, but she was to stay at her dad’s until after the trial. I missed her so much and blamed myself for driving her away.

  CHAPTER 28

  LAST-CHANCE SALOON

  Although it was pretty much a foregone conclusion that a trial would be taking place, Forrest was given one more chance to make a plea of guilty and avoid the inevitable nightmare for all concerned. If only he would admit to the crime that was so obvious to the rest of us, we could start to put this whole nightmare behind us.

  So, on Friday, 17 May, I found myself back in Lewes Crown Court again, this time with my friend Chloe and Sarah, as Paul couldn’t get the time off work. On this occasion, Forrest would definitely be there in person – he had no choice in the matter – and so, once again, I psyched myself up to see him face to face.

  Forrest’s parents and his sister Carrie also attended. His mother Julie’s face had the same drained look that I’d seen during the press conference she and her husband Jim had given, back in September. Their daughter appeared to be comforting her and Jim Forrest was deep in conversation with the barrister and solicitor. It seemed that he was the one dealing with all the legal processes.

  Sitting right behind us there was a line of reporters. Chloe whispered in my ear: ‘Don’t react, don’t say anything.’ I just sat there between Chloe and Sarah, clutching their hands.

  When Fo
rrest was brought up into the defendant’s box, I couldn’t take my eyes off him. I wanted to take in every detail of this bastard who had taken my child’s innocence.

  He was wearing a badly fitting suit, but he looked relaxed and gave his family a thumbs-up and mouthed the words ‘I’m fine’. All I could do was stare and stare at him. If my eyes could have burnt into him, he would have been in flames. At one point, he flicked his eyes over to me for less than a second, but he never looked at me again.

  As soon as the proceedings started, his body language changed and he went from being casual – maybe even cocky and relaxed – to much more upright and respectful. He put his hands down by his sides, as if he’d been coached to look as open and trustworthy as possible.

  The judge came in and, after all the required legalese had been delivered, asked Forrest to stand up. He asked him how he pleaded: guilty or not guilty?

  Once again, those chilling words …

  ‘Not guilty.’

  As I sat there, trying my very hardest not to react, I could hear the reporters’ pens scratching at their notepads as they scribbled away furiously. I held Sarah and Chloe’s hands in a vice-like grip. Every shred of emotion I was feeling went into my fingers. This wasn’t happening, was it?

  I had promised that I wouldn’t make a scene in court. Now I was actually there with him in front of me, it took every cell in my body to stop myself from standing up and screaming, ‘You’re a bastard! Do you know what you’re doing to my daughter?’ But with Sarah and Chloe’s support, I was able to stay calm, although it took one hell of a lot of effort not to let my emotions fly.

  I thought back to the initial statement that I had given to the police when Gemma disappeared. They had asked me if I’d given Forrest permission to take her out of the country and I had told them that no, I most certainly had not.

  At the time, they had told me that this was all the evidence they would need to find him guilty of abduction. I also had Gemma’s words in my head: that if I could just change my statement then all of this would go away. Except it couldn’t just ‘go away’. I couldn’t just change my statement and I knew in my heart of hearts that, painful as all of this was going to be, it was the right thing to do.

  Afterwards, outside the court, chief inspector for child protection Mark Ling, DI Neil Ralph and the prosecution barrister Richard Barton came over to talk to us, and I could see Forrest’s family out of the corner of my eye. At one point, I saw his sister making a move to come over to me, but she was held back by her mum. I was unnerved, as I didn’t know if she wanted to talk to me or have a go at me – I still wonder now what she would have said to me.

  The press wanted me to give them a statement, but I refused. I was too upset to put my feelings into words. I’d been given plenty of opportunities to speak to the press, but I never did – I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I was always worried what would be said about my family and my parenting skills, not to mention the impact it was having on my children.

  The crazy thing was, if Forrest had admitted to the crime months ago when he first appeared at Eastbourne Magistrates’ Court, he would most likely have been walking free by now. The judge would have taken his swift plea, good behaviour and cooperation into account. Instead the nightmare was about to step up a gear. The trial was set to begin in just over three weeks’ time, on Monday, 10 June.

  There was no escaping the fact that we faced a trial, and Gemma would have to be involved, whether or not she was happy about it. We had to get her to understand that. As much as she hated the words ‘victim’ and ‘witness’, she was both.

  Mark Ling visited Gemma at Max’s house and explained to her as gently as he could that she was going to be called as a witness. If she refused to attend court, the judge would have no option but to subpoena her. Should she then refuse to follow the subpoena, she would be arrested.

  One way or another, she had to go to court. Mark Ling tried to make her understand that it was the Crown Prosecution Service who were bringing the case against Forrest, not her family, and that she had no choice about whether or not she could attend. But no matter what Mark, Max or anyone else said about it, Gemma remained defiant: she wasn’t going, and that was that.

  The victim support team invited her to go and have a look round the courtroom, so that she wouldn’t be so daunted on the actual day that she would have to stand as a witness. They thought that if she was more familiar with the surroundings, it wouldn’t seem so scary. They must have asked me a dozen times, and I passed on all their messages via Max but again, there was no way she was going to change her mind.

  In the meantime, Gemma had her GCSEs to get through. Although this would normally be one of the most challenging periods in a teenager’s life, in a strange way it was helpful because it gave her another focus in life other than the court case. By this point, she had started to go off the rails a bit and was not attending FLESS when she should, but Max and I agreed that it was important for her to attend her exams, and he promised to ensure that she turned up for them.

  As had previously been arranged, Gemma went back to Kennedy High School to sit her exams. Unfortunately, the arrangements they made for her were woefully inadequate. It would have been too distracting for her to sit with her old classmates, so instead they stuck her in a room by the reception, hardly the right conditions for sitting an exam. To make matters worse, the laptop they gave her to use didn’t work properly and the printer was out of ink. Not surprisingly, after this disastrous start, we decided we had no choice but to make other arrangements and she was very quickly moved to another school to sit the remainder of her exams.

  Needless to say, I didn’t have very high expectations for Gemma’s results. With everything that had been happening, I took it for granted that she wouldn’t get any decent grades. Once again, though – and I can say it very happily this time – I was wrong. Gemma did brilliantly. Sadly, of course, at the time I had no idea how the exams were going because she was still refusing to speak to me. I was so grateful for all the support that FLESS had given her, she never would have got through her exams otherwise.

  CHAPTER 29

  A SIGNIFICANT BIRTHDAY

  On Gemma’s fifteenth birthday the year before, we had talked about how her sixteenth was going to be extra-special. As a family, we have always made a big thing about ‘significant’ birthdays – five, thirteen, sixteen, eighteen and so on – so this year was going to be a real treat. Gemma had even been talking about where she would like to go, ruling out where she didn’t like before then moving on to her next choice.

  All of that, of course, was long before this terrible period when all of our lives had been turned upside down. I hadn’t spoken to her since she had left home and moved in with Max, and she wasn’t acknowledging my texts, so I had a heavy heart, knowing I wouldn’t be part of her birthday that year.

  As we got closer to her sixteenth birthday on Sunday, 2 June, I became very quiet and withdrawn. Paul was really lovely and caring with me, saying there would be other years we could celebrate together and reassuring me that this was only a temporary problem in our relationship. But all my efforts to reconnect with her had failed. I was finding it very difficult to come to terms with the fact that she had totally blanked me out of her life.

  Max was very understanding about the situation and reassured me that he would make sure that Gemma had a great birthday. He arranged to take her out for a nice meal with the rest of his family and I knew he would make a big fuss over her. In a way, selfishly, that made things worse for me because I wanted to be part of it.

  Gemma loves make-up and perfume, so I bought her some nice treats and took Paul’s advice to leave a special present for another time when we could properly celebrate as mother and daughter again. Even so, I didn’t let up trying to contact her and really hoped that she would get in touch.

  Then I heard that she had been hearing stories – I don’t know who from – that I didn’t want to see her or have anything to do
with her again. I can only think it was the online parasites trying to drive a further wedge between us. Now I was coming up against brick wall after brick wall and people seemed determined to keep us apart.

  On the day of her birthday, I kept hoping that she would come back home but it wasn’t to be. Maddie took Gemma the presents we had got her, and about an hour later, I got a text from Gemma. All it said was ‘thank you’. It wasn’t much, but at least it was something – I was thankful that she had been in touch at all. Paul put his arm round me. ‘You’ve done the right thing,’ he said.

  Max continued to reassure me that Gemma was OK and that, despite the looming trial, she was still able to enjoy her birthday. I wasn’t jealous of him as such, I was just upset that I couldn’t be with her, knowing it was another day of my daughter’s childhood that Forrest had stolen from me.

  The trial date was getting much closer now – it was due to start in a week’s time, on Monday, 10 June 2013. Finally, after months of waiting, I would be able to get some answers to why Forrest had been able to destroy our lives.

  PART TWO

  THE TRIAL

  CHAPTER 30

  DAY 1: MONDAY, 10 JUNE

  And so, finally, the trial that we had all been dreading began.

  I knew that I wouldn’t be able to sit in the courtroom until I had taken the stand to give evidence, but I was determined to be nearby throughout the trial. I knew, too, that I couldn’t be told anything about what had happened until then either, but it didn’t matter to me: I just had to be there.