The Runaway Schoolgirl (14 page)

I
was frustrated that we had a court-free day ahead, especially when I’d been so psyched up about giving evidence. As far as I was concerned, the sooner we could get this whole thing over with, the sooner we could get back to living our normal lives. The trial had only been going on for three days, but already it felt like it was dragging on. How were we going to get through it, if it just went on and on?

Although frustrating, I carried on with the day, getting back to my routine of looking after the kids and doing the housework. Alfie went off to school in the morning as usual and I caught up with the washing and housework. It was good to be able to switch off from court and pretend things were normal, if only for a day.

W
ith Lilly feeling a lot better and Paul’s mum now well enough to look after her, Paul was able to come to court with me on the Friday. While I’d been grateful for the quiet headspace I’d had during my solo car journeys to Lewes, it was only when I had Paul by my side in the car that I realised how much I needed him with me.

He was relieved to be with me, too. It wasn’t just that he felt bad about not being there to support me during the first three days of the trial, but he also felt guilty about what had happened with Gemma and Forrest. He blamed himself for having provided half the money to pay for the school trip to Los Angeles, when Forrest first clawed his way into Gemma’s life.

During the drive to Lewes we talked about the morning of that fateful school trip, when I had dropped Gemma off
at the coach. I had made her introduce me to the teacher who was supervising her group, and I said to her: ‘This is my little girl and I’m trusting you to look after her.’ Gemma had cringed with embarrassment at the time as if I was being overprotective, but her teacher clearly didn’t do her job.

Like me, Paul felt so much guilt about what had happened. He has never tried to be Gemma’s father, but he has always been there for her and they have a good relationship. What had happened to her with Forrest had really taken its toll on him, too.

When we arrived at the court, I checked in with the witness services team to say that I was around, but that I would be downstairs. While there I saw two girls from Gemma’s school there to give evidence and I felt really bad for them. It was so sad that they had to go through all this, especially as it was right in the middle of their GCSEs.

I managed a quick hello, but I didn’t want to stick around; I knew that I had to keep my distance. To be honest, I don’t really know what I would have said to them and their mums anyway, apart from apologising. Nobody wants to see their children put through the trauma of giving evidence in court.

Paul and I decided to go for a walk around Lewes – we probably walked back and forth up Lewes High Street a hundred times that day! But we couldn’t think straight and wandered from shop to shop, looking at things but not really seeing them, our minds whirring with thoughts of what was happening in court. We would buy yet more cups of coffee and watch them go cold in front of us – we didn’t have the focus to drink, talk or make any decisions, we just drifted.

At about 3pm we went back to the courthouse and waited close to the courtroom for the session to end. Mum and
Charlotte had been back in court that day, as Gemma had completed her evidence and it was now the teachers’ turn to be questioned.

I was eager to see the expressions on everyone’s faces when the doors opened. As soon as I saw them, I could sense something significant had happened again.

Mum could see that I really wanted to know what had been said. Charlotte quickly turned to her: ‘You can’t tell her anything!’ Charlotte was right, I would find out soon enough. I didn’t want to put Mum and Charlotte in a difficult position and so we quickly changed the subject.

It was the same with Darcee and Chloe: they both stood firm. Chloe said, ‘You know we can’t tell you anything, but we don’t want you to worry. Trust us, it’s going to be OK.’

One thing made me feel a lot more positive about the situation, though. It was when Chloe turned to me and said: ‘I can’t wait for you to have your say.’

Whatever the teachers had been claiming had gone on, I knew the truth.

A
fter a very quiet night on the Friday, an unbelievably long weekend stretched ahead of me. Paul’s father had come to stay with us and it was Max’s weekend to have Alfie staying with him, so there would be just the five of us, including the newly one-year-old Lilly, who was now bouncing around again almost like her old self.

We decided that we would try to do some nice things as a family, but we were all feeling pretty emotionally drained by the events of the week before. Paul went out and bought all the newspapers, but we just filed them away for later as I was under strict instructions not to read them. It wasn’t a problem – we wanted to put the court case on hold for a while and try to act like a normal family.

To be honest, though, there was too much on my mind.
We would put the TV on and start to watch something, but I would just drift off. I couldn’t concentrate on anything.

I texted Max to check that everything was OK with Gemma and he replied, saying she was fine. I wondered whether he was just saying that to put my mind at rest, but he told me she was spending some time with friends and that she had been OK.

I had been finding the whole legal process mentally draining and harrowing. I was a whirlpool of emotions. My brain was like a mad pinball machine pinging around fragments of conversations, images of the courtroom and ideas about how it all could play out.

I was like a zombie. I kept falling asleep in random places and would then wake up with a shock and start fretting all over again; I was a mess.

Paul felt absolutely useless, but just a reassuring hug from him meant so much to me. He kept saying, ‘I’m so proud of you.’ I didn’t feel like I’d done anything to be proud of. Again, I was just doing what I thought was right.

I
t was time for Louise and Ben to testify in court. I wasn’t in as much of a state as I had been when Gemma was in the witness box, but I still felt so sad that they had to be there. They were lovely young people and had both been wonderful friends to Gemma. It was such a shame that their special friendship had been destroyed by this whole awful Forrest affair.

Gemma, Louise and Ben had tried to continue their friendship after Gemma got back from France, but there was too much water under the bridge. Louise and Ben had been manipulated into thinking that Forrest had genuine feelings for Gemma, but over time they came to realise that it wasn’t all hearts and flowers after all.

They were both very loyal to Gemma and had done everything they could to support her, but they would have said things that she didn’t want to hear. Naturally, Gemma
would have been upset about this, but the fact that Louise and Ben kept quiet about what had been going on for so long proved what wonderful friends they had been. Like Gemma, I think they were in love with the idea of being in love. They were kind-hearted, good-natured kids from good homes who got swept up in the romance of it all. It just showed how well Forrest had seduced them as well as my daughter.

It was with a heavy heart that Paul and I set off for court again that Monday morning. As usual, we parked in the car park at the bottom of the hill and met the others in the team for a quick coffee before making our way to the courthouse and battling through the ranks of reporters outside. I remember noticing Forrest’s dad was outside, talking to the press. I had seen him doing this before; it seemed to me he was almost the ‘spokesperson’ for the family. Meanwhile, his poor wife just looked lost – she looked how I felt.

Paul and I went to the coffee bar in the courthouse. We no longer felt like we had to keep ourselves hidden away in the witness services area. Forrest’s family were there, too, but we all knew our boundaries.

Soon after the morning session began, Paul and I went for a walk in Lewes to buy some gifts for the kids. As he and I wandered around, we started to try and second-guess the kind of questions I would be asked when it was my turn to take my place in the witness box the next day.

I was really panicking about remembering the dates that everything happened. I’ve always been rubbish at timeframes – I expect I have probably made one or two errors while writing this book, although I can assure you that I have tried my very hardest to get it right!

Mark Ling had reassured me that I would be able to read the
statement that I had given to the police when Gemma first went missing in September, so I knew I would always have that to fall back on. But I also knew that I was going to have to answer questions about Gemma’s health – in particular, the fact that the school thought she had bulimia and was self-harming.

I knew all the facts, of course, and I was confident about remembering all the details, it was the dates to go with them that I was worried about. Also, I was concerned that I would lose focus and start waffling under pressure, going off the point of what I had been asked. I really wanted to be crystal clear about what happened.

Paul and I recalled the days leading up to Gemma running away – the call from Miss Shackleton on the day that Lilly was born, the day the police came round, asking about the incriminating pictures on Gemma’s phone and so on – when it suddenly struck us that we were doing all this preparation work without really knowing what we were preparing for.

I honestly had no idea what I was going to be asked. All that Richard Barton had said to me was: ‘You know what happened, you just have to answer the questions.’ He was right, of course; it wasn’t as if I had to research the case. His reassuring words really boosted my confidence.

At 4pm, everyone filed out of court. Unlike other days, people seemed to be looking less angst-ridden about what they had heard. I could only guess what Louise and Ben had said, but I found it reassuring to see people’s demeanour as they left the courtroom.

Back home that evening, I tried to relax as much as possible, but my mind kept drifting off as I thought about what lay ahead. Even so, I had the kids’ dinner to make, lunches for the following day and the usual chores to be getting on with.
Friends had asked me whether I had planned my outfit for the following day – one of them joked that I should dress as a nun to show that I wasn’t the shambolic mess that I was being portrayed as on social media – but I didn’t give it a lot of thought. The important thing was to try and get a good night’s sleep before my big day ahead.

I
woke up feeling light-headed. I was so tired, I couldn’t think straight and I was more nervous than I’d ever been – worse than before any job interview, driving test or anything. I didn’t know exactly what time I would be called to the witness stand, I just knew that it would be at some point that day.

I was terrified.

As we approached the court later that morning, the TV crews were filming me much more closely than usual and the reporters were pushing microphones into my face, asking for comments.

I found it really unsettling. We had been around and about the court for the past week, but now all of a sudden we were the focus of all the press activity. I felt hot and cold, and started to panic. If anyone thinks that I was enjoying all the attention, I can assure you that I did not; the whole thing made me feel sick.

Once inside the court, I said my goodbyes to the friends and family who were heading to the public gallery, and Paul came up to the witness services area with me. As promised, I was given a copy of my initial police statement to read out. I tried to focus on the words, but I just couldn’t concentrate on them. I would take a deep breath and start reading again, but I couldn’t take anything in. In the end, I just gave up. The woman from witness services said, ‘Are you sure you have refreshed your mind enough?’ But it was no good, it just wasn’t happening.

When the call came for all parties to head to the courtroom for the session to begin, Paul gave me a kiss and wished me luck. I felt so alone when he walked out of the room and started shaking like a leaf. I couldn’t control myself. My knees were knocking, my hands were shaking and it felt as if my face was flinching involuntarily. I was worried I wouldn’t be able to hold everything together.

The next thing I knew, Mark Ling was by my side. ‘Is everything alright? I thought I’d come up and get you.’

It was such a thoughtful thing to do. Before I knew it, I was walking into the courtroom to be met by a sea of faces in front of me. To my left, I saw Paul and around ten other members of my family and friends. They all looked really concerned for me, and my poor Paul started welling up. I knew if any of them had been able to take my place, they would have done so.

As I walked into the courtroom, I looked at the jury, the 12 people who would be deciding the fate of Jeremy Forrest. I couldn’t believe how close I was to the reporters who were covering the case and already I could hear their pens scratching away at their notebooks.

When I came in, Judge Michael Lawson, QC gave me a
nice smile, which was lovely of him, but I was still a nervous wreck. He asked me if I would like to sit down.

‘Am I allowed?’ I asked. I know it sounds a bit daft now, but I was incredibly intimidated by the whole situation.

As my eyes flashed around the room, I took in Forrest, his parents and their defence team before settling my focus on Richard Barton and the judge. I felt as if I had to anchor my eyes to Richard. Otherwise, I thought, my head would wobble around, looking about the room. It was as if I had tunnel vision and could only see who was speaking to me.

I took a deep breath and took my oath on the Bible. I know I said earlier that I am not remotely religious, but swearing on the Bible was very important to me. I promised that I would tell nothing but the truth, and I meant it.

Richard Barton began with the formalities, asking me my name and address, which threw me a bit to be honest, as I had hoped to keep our new address secret from the press. I replied really quickly in the vain hope that the reporters might not catch what I said. For half a second, I thought about saying somewhere different, but I knew that I couldn’t.

The next few questions were very straightforward and basically followed what I had said on my statement to the police, back in September. Did I know Jeremy Forrest? Had I had any dealings with him in the past? Was I aware that he was having a relationship with my daughter?

Richard repeated to the jury how Forrest had referred to Gemma as ‘a bit of a pain’ when he had phoned me and accused her of spreading rumours about the two of them. It seemed clear to me that he wanted the jury to have heard the line about Forrest saying to me that the relationship could ruin his career.

Step by step, he went through all of the events leading up to Gemma’s disappearance. I was able to give clear answers with no waffling or forgetting dates. Despite my nerves I found it all extremely easy. After all, the memories he was asking me to recall are those that will stay with me for the rest of my life, whether I like it or not.

Richard picked up on the fact that Forrest had been crying when he was speaking to me on the phone and how I had felt like I was almost counselling him at the time, reassuring him that I would sort the problem out. He asked me how I felt about receiving a call like that and I told him that I was absolutely mortified, how I had always tried to bring up my children to have the utmost respect for teachers, and how embarrassed I was that Gemma had put him in this situation.

I’m not sure how I came across. I don’t know if my voice was particularly loud or feeble, but I felt confident in the answers that I was giving. Richard repeated certain key lines for the benefit of the jury. He wanted to make sure he got a clear message to them and that they understood the type of character that Forrest was. We all knew exactly what the true story was, but he needed to make sure that the 12 members of the jury would have no doubt about it either.

Throughout his questioning, I didn’t look at the jury. I was just concentrating on making sure I gave my answers as clearly, accurately and succinctly as possible. After around half an hour, Richard concluded my evidence by asking me one final question.

‘Did you give permission for Jeremy Forrest to take your daughter to France?’

‘No, I did not,’ I replied.

I knew this was the killer question, the one that would
surely find Forrest guilty. It was the one response that I wanted everyone to hear as clearly as I could possibly make it.

Richard then said: ‘No more questions, your honour.’

It was now time for Forrest’s defence barrister, Ronald Jaffa, to stand and start asking me questions. I had seen him going in and out of Lewes Crown Court, and before that at the pre-trial hearings, so I knew what he was like.

As soon as he started questioning me, I felt as if I was under attack.

‘I put it to you that your daughter has bulimia.’

‘No, she has not.’

‘I put it to you that your daughter is self-harming.’

‘No, she isn’t.’

Where did this line of questioning come from? He was obviously trying to get a rise out of me, but it was going to take a hell of a lot more than that to make me angry.

‘I put it to you that your daughter had to leave the country for fear of her life.’

So this was to be Forrest’s team’s line of defence! They were going to try and make out that the reason he had taken my daughter to France was because he was worried about what would have happened to her otherwise. It was almost as if he was suggesting that I would have killed Gemma, had she stuck around. I was furious.

‘No way, that’s not true!’ I turned to the jury and again said very firmly, ‘That is not true.’

It was so quiet in that courtroom, you could honestly have heard a pin drop. I couldn’t believe that the defence team’s strategy was to blame me, to make out that Gemma had no support at home and couldn’t come and tell me how she was feeling.

The judge interrupted proceedings and asked me directly what my relationship with Gemma was like. I told him that it was just a normal mother–teenage daughter relationship. I said that I was fully aware of her pre-existing health problems – I had talked about these in my statement, which the jury had a copy of, so I wasn’t holding any information back. I knew she was under pressure because of all of her exams, but we had a normal relationship. Everything had been absolutely fine between the two of us.

I could sense that Ronald Jaffa was seething. His hoped-for trump card had totally fallen flat. Once more, he said: ‘I put it to you again that your daughter left this country for fear of her life.’ He paused, before quickly adding: ‘And she has bulimia!’

And with that, he sat back down like a petulant child. I almost felt like laughing. I had heard that he had previously won some important cases and was really good at his job, but I was thinking, ‘Seriously, is that the best you can do?’ I almost wanted him to get off his chair and ask me more questions; I couldn’t believe that was it.

When the judge then turned to me and said, ‘You are now dismissed’, it felt like a bit of an anti-climax. The jurors had been provided with an information pack, which included reports from doctors, social workers and the police, showing that Gemma wasn’t in fear of her life in any way, and that she wasn’t bulimic or self-harming.

Like every mother with a daughter of a certain age, I paid close attention to Gemma’s eating habits. At one time I had six pairs of eyes watching her, as close friends and family knew that the school had suggested she had a problem. In fact she was a normal, healthy girl with none of the telltale signs of an eating disorder.

Back outside the court, I met up with family and friends for a group hug. They all said I had done really well and I described how frustrated I’d been about the defence team’s line of questioning.

Now, finally, I could be told about what had been going on in the courtroom before that day, and I could begin to understand why my friends and family had been reacting the way they had. Needless to say, Chloe and Darcee couldn’t tell me everything that had been said in the space of a lunch break, but they were able to summarise the key information. More than anything, I was desperate to know how Gemma had been in court. What was it that she said that had so upset my family?

I discovered that the responses that Gemma gave when she was cross-examined varied dramatically from the evidence she had given to the police during her interview in Hailsham the previous October. She had changed her evidence to make out that she herself had come up with the idea of going to France and that Forrest was not to blame. She had also told the court that she and I did not get on and that I had not supported her.

Upsetting as it was for me to hear this, I knew it wasn’t really Gemma talking. I was hurt, but I had to rationalise her state of mind. She had only just turned sixteen. I didn’t want to disregard what she had said, but I didn’t feel they were her own words. It was almost as if someone had told her what to say.

Apparently, while Gemma was giving her evidence, she and Forrest often smiled at each other and exchanged glances. I wasn’t surprised to hear that; I had suspected all along that was the reason why she wanted to appear in court.

Through my own research into child abuse, I learned that
victims often claim it is their fault that the abuse happened in the first place. That is exactly the behaviour that Gemma displayed in court when she claimed that it had been her idea to start a relationship, rather than Forrest’s, and that he had repeatedly urged her not to run away.

What she was saying fuelled some people’s opinions that it was just a love story and that the two of them should be together. But if people had actually listened to all of the evidence, it was clear that this wasn’t an innocent flirtation. Her words were a textbook response from a victim of child abuse.

I also heard that the teachers had claimed that Miss Shackleton had called me seven times about Gemma and left seven messages. Even though I had just given birth to Lilly, there was no way that I would have ignored seven messages – the one time she left I message I called her back. They were clearly just trying to shift the blame on to me. In any case, if the school really was so concerned that there was an issue to be dealt with, they should have contacted social services – or called me a hundred times, if necessary.

Apparently, the court heard that other teachers and senior members of staff at the school had warned Forrest to stay away from Gemma on several occasions, but he had ignored their instructions. They were painting a very bleak picture of what had gone on at Kennedy High School. Whatever was to happen with Forrest, at least I knew that there was going to be a serious case review, and all the school’s shortcomings would eventually be revealed.

Back in the courtroom at 2pm, I took my seat in the public gallery. The next person due to give evidence was Forrest’s wife, Emily.

I couldn’t believe how close I was to Forrest. I couldn’t take my eyes off him and could feel the jury and the press all looking at me, staring at him. But I didn’t care what kind of emotions my face showed – I wasn’t there to put on a show or impress anyone with my self-restraint either, I just wanted answers.

The usher brought Emily Forrest up to the witness box and, I kid you not, I thought she was a child – she was so small and delicate. I knew she was a year older than Forrest, but she looked like she was the same age as Gemma. She was very pretty and dainty, and really well-spoken, but her voice was childlike. It was really strange.

She took the stand and the prosecution began by asking her about her relationship with Forrest and the events leading up to when he and Gemma went off to France. There was little in her answers that I didn’t already know, apart from the news that she and Forrest had been out for dinner together on the Wednesday night before he and Gemma disappeared. She revealed that he had mentioned that he would like them to have a child together and that she had thought it was strange at the time, considering the problems they had been having in their relationship. Back home afterwards, she said that he had ‘tucked me up in bed, kissed me on my forehead and said he loved me’.

That’s the same night-time pattern I have with my children. I tuck them up, kiss them on their foreheads and tell them I love them. Now I was hearing it was what he did with his wife! It was all so disturbing to listen to, all I could feel was pity.

The court went eerily quiet throughout her testimony. It was almost as if we were all straining to hear her words.
Meanwhile, Forrest kept frantically making notes and passing them to his legal team.