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.
The original plan was for Paul to come with me every day. Paul and I had taken two weeks’ holiday leave and his mum had kindly said she would move in and look after Alfie and Lilly for the duration of the trial. We wanted the situation at home to be as normal as possible for the little ones.
Various friends and family members had asked if they could go along and sit in the public gallery. To be quite honest, I didn’t know if it was a good idea or not – I wasn’t really functioning properly at the time – but I was very grateful that they wanted to be there for me. I feel incredibly lucky to have had such a great support network while living through this nightmare.
Poor Lilly had a terrible night on the Sunday and woke up with a raging temperature. Added to that, Paul’s mum was also feeling poorly, so I was torn between staying at home to look after my youngest daughter or going to court to support my eldest one. After much agonising, Paul and I decided that he would stay at home with Lilly and I would drive myself to court. Mum and Charlotte offered to take me, but I thought the 20-minute drive on my own might help me mentally prepare for the fortnight to come. I drove there in silence, trying to get my head around what was in store.
I got to Lewes, parked in a car park a little way from the court and met up with my friends Chloe, Darcee and Sarah. There was a really solemn atmosphere; we were all so nervous about what lay ahead. Sarah tried to reassure me that there was nothing for me to be anxious about – the first day was really just a formality, she explained, with the jury being sworn in and the prosecution presenting their case and so on – but it didn’t take away from the fact that we were all so freaked out by the whole experience. We went for a coffee and tried to keep our spirits up, but the silent moments told the real story.
Lewes Crown Court is at the top of a hill, and when we finished our coffees we walked up the hill, laughing about how steep it was. When we reached the top, we saw that there was a crowd of photographers and reporters waiting outside the court and a number of camera crews had set up pitches across the road, and the nerves took over again. As we took in the scene, we wondered how the hell we were going to get into the building without being mobbed by reporters.
We decided to just march straight up there and through the banks of photographers. As soon as we approached them, that dreaded click-click-click-click-click noise fired off from every direction as they craned to get pictures of anyone who was going into the court. It was so frightening.
Once inside, we were helped through the security checks and directed upstairs into the witness services area, where we met a very nice lady who had been assigned to look after us for the duration of the case. Then chief inspector for child protection Mark Ling and DI Neil Ralph came in to check that I was OK, and reiterated to me that I wouldn’t be able to go into the courtroom or be told about any of the proceedings until after I had given my evidence. They looked as nervous as me, but then I suppose it was a big deal for all of us: we all wanted everything to go smoothly.
Next the prosecution barrister, Richard Barton, came to see us and he went through the running order of witnesses. Gemma was due to appear tomorrow, after which it would be my turn, followed by Forrest’s wife Emily, Gemma’s teachers and other kids from her school. He warned me that the running order would be subject to change, depending on how events unfolded.
There were some smaller witness rooms off to the side of where we were waiting and in the main room there was a small TV screen displaying a list of the cases that were being heard that day. I read through the list and there it was: Court 2, Jeremy Ayre Forrest, 10am.
I couldn’t take my eyes off it. There was the name of the man who we first knew as Mr Forrest the teacher, then as Jeremy Forrest the abductor and, finally, as Jeremy Ayre Forrest, the accused.
I was already aware that Forrest called himself Jeremy Ayre when he performed as a musician and had used the name on social media sites like Twitter, but I didn’t realise until that moment that Ayre was his middle name. It is hard to describe how I was feeling as I saw those words on the screen. I was trying to reconcile how three words could add up to so much destruction. It was only then that I really began to understand what we were about to go through. I felt physically sick.
An announcement came over the PA system: ‘All parties in the case of Jeremy Ayre Forrest, please go to court number two’. Suddenly, it was all happening.
Chloe went into the courtroom with Mum and Charlotte, while Darcee and I settled in the witness area for what was to be an interminable wait. We talked about everything and anything, stupid things to try and make the time go quickly, and chatted with the witness services people. Time seemed to hardly move at all. I kept guiltily thinking about my poor baby Lilly and I felt bad that I wasn’t at home looking after her. Truth be told, though, she was probably better off being with Paul that day; my nerves were in tatters.
At around midday, the judge, Michael Lawson, QC, adjourned the session for an hour’s lunch break and Chloe popped up to see us. I would be lying if I said I wasn’t dying to ask her what had been going on, but I knew how important it was that I wasn’t told anything at all about the case. All I was allowed to know was that a jury of eight men and four women had been sworn in and that the judge had made his opening statement.
We met up with Mum and my sister Charlotte and went off in search of somewhere away from all the madness of the court and the photographers and press to have lunch. We found a lovely 1950s-style tearoom called Lewesiana, which is where we subsequently went every single day of the case. It was our safe haven.
In a way, I remember thinking at the time it was strange that we were all so worried about the trial – after all, surely there could be no shadow of a doubt that Forrest was guilty of abduction? Gemma and Forrest had been seen boarding the ferry and I knew for sure that I hadn’t given him permission to take my daughter away, so the evidence was cut and dried. Whereas previously I had wondered if I might somehow have given him permission by mistake, I was now in a completely different headspace.
I knew for certain that I hadn’t; I knew for certain that Forrest was guilty. And yet, even with that knowledge, what scared me was the unknown. He had kept saying, ‘The truth will come out’, and I was living on my nerves, wondering what the hell he meant when he said that.
I didn’t feel like eating and was fretting about Lilly; I’d been in touch with Paul and my baby wasn’t feeling any better. But the thing most heavily playing on my mind was the thought of Gemma having to give evidence the next day. I cannot believe any parent would be happy with their child having to do that; the idea of her facing a barrage of questions was just unbearable. I would have made it all stop right there and then if I could, but I couldn’t. It was all out of my hands.
Back at the court for the afternoon session, Darcee and I watched people coming in and out of the witness services rooms. To pass the time, we tried to guess what they might be there for. I knew that I wasn’t serving any useful purpose being there, but I wanted to be on hand in case there was anything I could help with. I couldn’t bear to be anywhere else.
The afternoon session finished at 4pm and we briefly met up again with Mark Ling and Neil Ralph. They reassured me that the afternoon session had gone exactly as planned and told me that Richard Barton had given the opening statement for the prosecution. I knew the gist of what he would have said; it was the defence statement that was totally unknown territory. Maybe then we would finally find out what Forrest meant when he said, ‘The truth will come out.’
Back home afterwards, Lilly looked worse than when I’d left her, so I whisked her off to the GP, who informed me that my baby had tonsillitis. I felt so guilty for not having been there for her.
I had sent a couple of texts to update everyone on what was going on, but obviously I didn’t have much to tell. As far as actual facts were concerned, all the press could actually report at this point was that the trial had begun, but I knew that they would be stirring up all kinds of stuff about Gemma having bulimia and self-harm issues over the next few days. But I didn’t care. I wasn’t going to read any of it, I wasn’t interested in anyone else’s take on what was going on; for me the important thing was to support my family. However, I wanted Gemma to read every single piece of evidence that was coming out about him so that she could understand what kind of man he was.
Today had been nothing, I knew there was much worse to come.
The next day Gemma would give evidence. We still weren’t on speaking terms, but I sent her a text: ‘I’ll be thinking of you tomorrow. If you need me, I’ll be there. I love you’. Once again, though, I didn’t hear back from her.
Later that evening, Neil Ralph called to confirm with me where Gemma would be the next morning. She was going to be sitting a maths exam at a nearby school first thing, and the plan was for our family liaison officer Hannah and Max to meet her there afterwards and bring her to court. There was still no guarantee that she would go willingly, but I had to trust her to do the right thing.