Lee Hadaway, Karen’s father, should not have been out of town that day. Stephen Judd’s employers had specifically forbidden him from using anyone to assist him on his deliveries. However, he was not one for rules and Lee needed the money – so what Stephen’s bosses did not know would not hurt them.
By the time they reached their destination, some 200 miles away, at 10.15 p.m. the night before the girls disappeared, Stephen had to stop driving almost immediately as he was dangerously close to exceeding his permitted driving hours. This was one rule he had to obey as his tachograph – the device that records a driver’s hours – would not lie, thereby jeopardizing his heavy goods vehicle licence and his job. Having called it a day, they bedded down in the back of the lorry, intent on making an early start.
The first Lee knew of Karen going missing was when he phoned home just before 6 p.m. the following day. Michelle picked up the phone – she couldn’t find Karen. It had only been an hour since she had been last seen so, while her behaviour was unusual, there should have been no immediate cause for alarm. Regardless, they were both worried and Lee promised to call every half hour.
As the minutes ticked by, Michelle became increasingly anxious. She couldn’t see Karen playing in the front gardens and she had told her not to be long. She usually did as she was told. She walked the few steps to ask Susan Fellows if she had seen her. Lindsay, Karen’s younger sister, had told her mum that Karen had run off with Nicola so it was a reasonable assumption they were still playing together. When Susan said she had not seen them, Michelle asked around the children who were still playing, but no one could help.
She scouted the area and bumped into a boy who said he had seen both girls over the road in Wild Park talking to the park constable earlier. By now Michelle had been joined by Susan. Together they traversed the paths and fields of Wild Park, calling out the girls’ names. Dusk was falling and they struggled to see far but, ever confident that the girls had just lost track of time, they went back home in the hope that they’d sheepishly returned.
They hadn’t.
Barrie Fellows had last seen Nicola the morning of the day she went missing. Around 8 a.m. he had been standing by a bus stop waiting to go to work when she sauntered past him. He’d chivvied her along as, at that pace, she ran the risk of being late for school.
His tasks for that day involved cleaning out a swimming pool and doing some gardening at a house in Woodruff Avenue, nestled in an affluent quarter of Brighton’s neighbouring town Hove. He arrived around 8.45 a.m. but Dougie, who was due to be with him, only turned up at about 10 a.m., having first signed on at the Job Centre.
They worked all day until 5 p.m. when together they walked through the winding streets of Hove to catch the 49a bus back to Moulsecoomb. On the way, Barrie popped into a butcher’s shop to buy some ham for his tea, but they still caught the bus they had planned to and arrived on the estate just after 6 p.m.
Before going home the men called in to see Theresa Judd, Dougie’s sister-in-law, who lived close to the bus stop. While Dougie stayed only a few moments before going to visit his girlfriend, Barrie chatted with her for around fifteen to twenty minutes before his short walk back home.
When he arrived, Susan was not in but his mother-in-law Edna was. She told Barrie that Susan had gone out with Michelle Hadaway to look for Karen and Nicola. Barrie decided to have his tea and watch Top of the Pops before joining the search. Then he went back to see Theresa in case she had seen Nicola. Discovering she had not, he trawled the streets alone, growing increasingly worried as the night and a blanket of low mist drew in. Out of ideas and terrified, he made his way back home.
By now Susan and Michelle were back from searching and the Fellows’ house was starting to fill up with concerned friends and neighbours. The unspoken realization was growing that this was more than a couple of mischievous girls breaking a curfew.
The front room had become the community’s control centre. Theories of where they might be, what they might be doing, were advanced, weighed up, pounced on or dismissed. People scurried out with expectation then returned in despair.
As each option drew a blank, the more frantic the parents became.