Becky

by Darren Galsworthy

  ‘If you don’t start behaving, I’m going to let go and you’ll end up over in France,’ I warned, pointing to show her the direction.

  She looked at my face, trying to work out if I was serious, and when I stayed deadpan she decided to calm down.

  Maybe some of Becky’s tantrums were about testing her own power, the way all toddlers do, but they were also a way of getting our attention because she was still not talking by then. She had been slow to walk and crawl, not finding her feet till well after her second birthday, and at two years old she wasn’t talking yet – she didn’t use recognisable words until she was well past her third birthday. I wasn’t unduly worried at first because I know all kids pick up these skills at their own pace, but the tantrums meant she could be a handful at times.

  She might have been demanding, but she was also an extremely affectionate child. All she had to do was look up at me and smile and she would have me wrapped completely around her little finger. She was always reaching up for a cuddle. Her favourite place to be was cuddled up with Anjie or me, or hanging with her arms around Anjie’s neck. She was my princess and I adored her.

  It always melted my heart when I spotted Danny and Becky peeping through the curtains at their mother’s house, waiting for my car to pull up outside on a Friday evening. The minute they saw us turning onto their street, Danny would fling open the front door, and, as soon as she could walk, Becky had a habit of rushing out to greet us. This might have been cute but it scared me silly, as I had to pull over quickly and jump out of the car to make sure she didn’t run straight into traffic.

  As happy as the kids were to see me, Tanya was always less so. Communication between us as parents reached an all-time low after Anjie and Nathan came into my life. I tried to keep my cool and let things wash over me, but handovers remained incredibly tense, difficult times.

  Becky and Danny would be very quiet when they first arrived at our place on Friday evenings. It was as if it took them a few hours to warm up and start enjoying themselves. I just assumed the pair of them were taking some time to get used to the new family unit, but Anjie had her doubts.

  ‘Have you noticed how Becky has starting sitting on the sofa all the time in just one spot?’ she said to me after we put them to bed one evening. ‘It comes across like she’s scared to move, like she’s been told off for it. I had to plead with her just to come and play on the floor with me and Danny.’

  ‘She’ll come around,’ I reassured her, but in the back of my mind I knew she had a point. Some weekends, the kids would be timid and jumpy, as if the slightest thing unnerved them. Once, when I went to pick them up, Danny was hiding underneath Tanya’s kitchen table.

  I tried to talk to Tanya about their behaviour but, to be honest, communication between us was too difficult. She just shrugged when I brought it up.

  ‘Maybe they don’t like being there with you and your new family,’ she suggested. I knew it wasn’t that because once they relaxed – usually by Saturday morning – they were giggling and laughing and having a great time.

  Tanya and I often clashed over the state of the old clothes the kids were wearing when they came to us. Anjie and I went out and bought them new outfits, but the following week they would come back in the old clothes again. Once or twice, Becky didn’t even have any shoes on when she got into my car, and I couldn’t find a suitable pair for her in Tanya’s house. Every time I raised the issue with Tanya, she threatened to call the police to remove me from her home. Despite the fact that I was paying child maintenance every month, Anjie and I were having to buy the kids loads of essentials every time we saw them. In the end, we kept the clothes we bought for them at our house, so at least they always had something nice to wear when they were with us.

  On Sunday nights, when we got into the car for me to drive them both home, Becky would cry her eyes out the whole way, and cling to me like a limpet as I carried her out of the car and up the front path.

  ‘Come on, sweetheart, it’s OK,’ I’d say as I tried to reassure her. ‘You’re going to see Mummy now and you’ll come back to Daddy’s house next weekend.’

  No matter what I said, it was absolutely heartbreaking for me to leave her that upset. Danny never cried, but he would sigh and drag his feet.

  I used to drive home to Anjie feeling terrible and trying desperately to understand what was going on. ‘I know they like spending time with us and we have lots of fun together, but it’s not just that. It’s as if they don’t want to go home,’ I said to her in bed one night. ‘Becky just didn’t want me to leave. Something’s wrong, Anjie.’

  I didn’t want to seem like an ex complaining, but eventually I was so worried I phoned social services.

  ‘We’ll look into it,’ I was told, but as far as I could tell nothing happened. I called again and again, but I might as well have been hitting my head against a brick wall for all the good it did.

  Then, in September 2001, when Becky was three and Danny was five, everything changed. I opened the door to a man who introduced himself as Dave and said he was a social worker. I invited him in and he wasted no time in telling us why he was paying us a visit.

  ‘I have an update about your children, Daniel and Rebecca,’ he said, and Anjie shot me a concerned glance. ‘I’m sorry to have to tell you this, Mr Galsworthy, but the pair of them have been taken into care.’

  I stared at him in shock, and my stomach tightened into a knot.

  ‘Are the children OK?’ Anjie asked him. She sounded panicked. ‘Has something happened to them?’

  ‘The children are fine,’ Dave answered. ‘I didn’t mean to startle you. They are both fit and healthy, but we weren’t sure they were being properly cared for at home with their mother so we deemed it necessary to step in. They’ll be staying with a foster family until we decide what to do.’

  I was horrified to think of children of mine being in care, being looked after by strangers. What had been happening to them at home?

  ‘I want my kids to come and live here with me,’ I said, and Dave nodded.

  ‘I imagine you do, Mr Galsworthy, but it’s now a case of reviewing their care and deciding on the best possible outcome. You’ll have the opportunity to apply for custody, and you’ll still have your regular access to them on weekends. It’s important that Daniel and Rebecca maintain that routine and still see a lot of you. Their mother, Miss Watts, will also have supervised access to them.’

  I was relieved that they could still come and stay with Anjie and me at weekends. At least they would have an ounce of normality throughout the whole thing. I could tell that Anjie was thinking the same thing, as her shoulders relaxed a little.

  ‘So why can’t they come to us straight away?’ I asked. ‘We have enough room to have them here during the week, and they are always properly taken care of when they’re with us. Why can’t you just arrange for them to live here?’

  ‘It’s a little more complicated than that, I’m afraid,’ he answered. ‘There will be a few court hearings about their care, and you’ll be considered for custody. I imagine their mother, Miss Watts, will be applying too. Until a decision is made, Daniel and Rebecca will need to stay with a foster family during the week.’ It seemed part of the problem was that I hadn’t been named as Becky’s father on her birth certificate.

  ‘So what you’re telling me is, I now have to fight to get my kids?’ I asked him. I could feel a wave of anger wash over me but I tried not to show it.

  Dave nodded again. ‘I’m afraid so.’

  As soon as he left, Anjie and I looked at each other, still reeling from the news.

  ‘I suppose we should just be grateful that they’re safe,’ Anjie said, and I smiled. She could always look on the positive side of things. I knew they would be treated properly in foster care, but that they would inevitably be confused and scared by all the changes in their young lives. I was desperate to have them living permanently with me.

  When I saw the kids the following Friday, they rushed in
to my arms.

  ‘Are you OK?’ I asked Danny. ‘Is it nice where you are staying?’

  He just nodded and didn’t want to talk about it. I explained that I wanted them to come and live with us, but that mummy wanted them as well and the social workers were going to decide what was the best thing. Becky clung to me like her life depended on it. Although she hadn’t started talking yet, I knew she understood most of what was being said around her. ‘We’ll still see each other every weekend while they’re deciding,’ I reassured them. ‘Just like before.’

  For the next three months, Anjie and I lived and breathed the fight to get my children out of care. It was the first thing I thought about as soon as I woke up in the morning, and the last thing that passed through my mind before I fell asleep – if I managed to get any sleep at all. The number of sleepless nights I had worrying about the fate of Danny and Becky was unreal.

  We saw Dave, the social worker, a few times after that, and I grew to really like him. He talked us through the whole process and kept us up to date with what we had to do to apply for custody. A brilliant family solicitor called Greg Moss, one of the best in Bristol, agreed to take on the case on behalf of the children, and it was good to know he was on our side.

  We got dressed up and went to several family court hearings, only to discover that they were going to be adjourned to another date. It was irritating, as I had to book a whole day off work every time. Eventually, I had used up all of my holiday allowance for the year just to be able to attend a string of meetings that lasted five minutes each.

  The hearings were nerve-racking for Anjie and me. We both knew we were more than capable of taking care of Danny and Becky full-time, but we had to prove that to the family court. We were put under the spotlight as they queried everything about us. They wanted to know why Nathan lived with his nan during the week, and Anjie had to explain tearfully that it was a decision she had made in the past when she was involved in a troubled relationship and it had seemed best for him to have stability. After Anjie and I got together, we all decided it was best for him to stay at the same school, which meant staying with his nan. Then they asked Anjie to take a parenting class, and she did so well in it that she was later approached by Bristol City Council, who asked her if she wanted a job teaching the classes! We had a good laugh about that.

  I was so lucky to have Anjie through that whole difficult period, as I told her on many occasions.

  ‘If it wasn’t for me and my family, you and Nathan could have a peaceful life,’ I said to her. ‘Are you sure you really want all of this? You didn’t sign up for it and I wouldn’t judge you if you wanted out.’

  But Anjie simply smiled at me. ‘Your family is my family,’ she said, squeezing my hand. ‘I love you, and of course I’ll stick by you, no matter what happens.’

  That was just another example of Anjie being Anjie – she was the kindest person in the world.

  Someone must have told social services that I was a heavy drinker, because they made me do a breathalyser test on a few occasions when I went to pick up the kids. It was annoying. Like most lads I’d had drunken moments in my younger days, but I hardly ever drank in that period. Still, I did the tests willingly to keep the peace and to prove I was a responsible parent. They also quizzed me on my job, my relationship with Anjie and Tanya, and what my relationship was like with the kids. It was exhausting and upsetting, but, with the help of Greg Moss, I did my best to prove that I was a hard-working man who would do anything to support his family.

  When the children stayed with us at the weekends, Anjie and I tried to make it as normal as possible for them, often taking them out for the day to take their minds off everything. I was desperate for them to know how wanted they were and how much they were a part of our family. They seemed in bright enough spirits, and the foster parents they were with seemed lovely, so I knew they were being well-treated when they weren’t with us. Their foster parents’ own children were in the sea cadets, and they took Becky and Danny along for some of the outdoor activities, which they enjoyed, but it wasn’t their home and Danny knew it.

  ‘Daddy, why can’t I live with you and Anjie?’ he asked as I dropped them back at their foster home one Sunday evening. He always looked confused whenever I had to leave without him, and he would hug me hard as I said goodbye. ‘I don’t want you to go, Daddy,’ he said, peering up at me.

  It broke my heart, but I tried to reassure him. ‘Anjie and I are doing our best to get you and Becky home where you belong. Don’t you worry, son,’ I said. ‘In the meantime, you’re going to stay with this nice family and have lots of fun. I’ll see you soon, I promise.’

  But Danny simply looked up at me with his sad eyes. Walking away from that front door while waving goodbye to my kids felt impossible sometimes, and I had to force myself to put one foot in front of the other. It just made me all the more determined to get them home with me, where they belonged.

  Nathan was fourteen at this time, old enough to understand, so Anjie explained to him what we were doing and how important it was to get Danny and Becky out of care. He got on well with Danny and didn’t seem to mind the idea of seeing more of him, but when we spoke about Becky coming to live with us he wrinkled his nose in disgust.

  ‘I don’t want her to live here with you, Mum,’ he moaned. ‘She’s so loud and annoying.’

  ‘She’s only a baby, Nathan,’ Anjie explained. ‘She’ll grow out of all that in time.’

  We didn’t pay much attention to Nathan’s attitude to Becky at the time. There were eleven years between them and he was bound to be irritated by her demanding ways. He was also prone to getting jealous over his mother’s affections. Now and again, he would get annoyed if Becky grabbed Anjie’s hand, but we always reminded him that she was only little and needed more attention. We guessed that he would probably feel jealous about Becky and Danny coming to stay with his mother full-time, while he only stayed with us on the weekends, but we decided to cross that bridge when we came to it.

  It was a long process, but in January 2002 the family court granted us an interim care order for Danny and Becky to stay with us full-time until the final hearing, and in March 2002 we were granted a residence order, meaning we were awarded full custody of them. When we opened the letter I threw my arms around Anjie in celebration. It was over, and we had won. My kids were staying with me. I don’t think I’ve ever felt so relieved in all my life. I vowed to enjoy every future minute I spent with them.

  That night, when I put them to bed in our house, knowing that I wouldn’t have to drive them back to that foster home ever again, I spent longer than usual tucking them in and reading them a story. Becky was still too young to understand, but I explained things to Danny. ‘You’ll be living with Anjie and me now,’ I said. ‘You’ll be sleeping here every night. No more living in foster care. That’s all over.’

  The relief on his face was obvious. He had taken it upon himself to look after his younger sister while they were in care – he was even given an award from social services at South Gloucestershire Council for being such a brilliant older brother. But that was far too much responsibility for a five-year-old to shoulder, so I think he was happy that, from that minute on, he could go back to being a kid again.

  One Friday evening, not long after we were awarded custody, we drove Becky and Danny to pick up Nathan from his nan’s house. As we waited outside for him, Becky looked out the car window and saw him coming towards us. She opened her mouth and, as clear as day, said the word ‘Nathan’.

  I swivelled around in shock, as did Anjie. It was the first distinct word she had ever uttered.

  Nathan jumped in the car and looked round at us, puzzled by our stunned faces.

  ‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.

  ‘Becky just said your name,’ I told him.

  ‘Yeah, right!’ he sneered. ‘Becky doesn’t even talk yet. As if she said my name!’

  ‘Seriously, Nath, Becky said your name,’ Anjie said. ‘You shou
ld be flattered. She’s never said anything before.’

  Nathan turned to look at Becky, sitting there in her car seat, and he was obviously surprised.

  We spent the rest of the day trying to get her to say it again, but she wouldn’t.

  Chapter 3

  Happy families

  TUESDAY, 3 MARCH 2015

  Despair for Becky’s family follows discovery of dismembered body: Shockwaves were felt across Bristol today following the discovery of mutilated body parts thought to belong to missing schoolgirl Becky Watts. Police believe the teenager’s corpse, which was found at a house in Barton Court, Barton Hill, around a mile and a half from her home, had been cut up. Becky’s family are said to be ‘in hell’ and ‘completely broken’ after hearing the harrowing news, which ends any hopes they had of seeing her alive again. Becky’s dad, Darren Galsworthy, and stepmother, Anjie, described the latest development as ‘too much to bear’. The grisly find, which is understood to have followed a tip-off yesterday evening, comes 12 days after the 16-year-old first vanished. The body was driven away in a private ambulance before a team of forensic experts went into the mid-terrace property. As officers continue their investigations, police have put up a white tent outside the house, which is close to a number of other properties that have already been searched as part of the operation. They’ve also seized a black Vauxhall Zafira. Today, police were granted a further 24 hours to question a 28-year-old man and a 21-year-old woman arrested over the weekend in connection with Becky’s disappearance. Following the discovery of the body parts, they have arrested a further four people on suspicion of assisting an offender.

  From the minute we knew Becky and Danny were permanently staying under our roof, I felt deliriously happy. I know it sounds corny, but I just loved seeing everybody together like that. On weekends I’d jump out of bed and rush downstairs to make us all a hearty breakfast, then we’d go out somewhere in the car.