I spend the afternoon with Vanda and, on returning home, feel as bad as ever. My mood is black and I have little to say to Ray. I go into the garden and find, to my absolute dismay, that our neighbour has trimmed down the hedge between our two houses and, at the same time, has decimated a Christmas fir tree on our side to be level with the hedge. I had been growing the tree for seven years. I am furiously angry and completely gutted because it had reached about 8ft in height and was impossible to miss. My intention had been to decorate this tree with outdoor lights at the New Year, for the anniversary of Rachel’s death. It seems like, in felling the tree, he has struck another blow against her, as it means one more thing that I cannot do for her. I know I am rapidly approaching the end of my tether.
The evening drags on with neither of us saying very much and, since there is nothing better to do, I go up to bed at around 9.30pm. Ray stays downstairs. I try very hard to sleep but cannot, even though I am desperately tired. Things are going round and round in my head – the hopelessness of the situation, the interminable silences, which are my fault as much as Ray’s, and the final straw of Rachel’s tree being hewn.
Suddenly and without reason, I am up and dressed and I go downstairs with the intention of getting out of the house – out of this atmosphere and away. Ray is sitting in silence in the back lounge but comes out into the kitchen, perhaps because he hears me. He asks where I am going and seems slightly taken aback when I say, ‘Out,’ as it is now around 11pm and normally I never go anywhere at night. He makes no effort to stop me and I don’t expect or want him to. Right now, I have no idea where I will go but know that I will explode if I remain in this house one moment longer. I lock the door behind me and walk off into the night, carrying only my handbag.
I keep walking and thinking, wondering where I should go but quite determined not to go to anyone with whom I am acquainted. I am on my own – I have left for the sake of my sanity and wish to involve nobody else.
I carry on towards the city centre, stopping once to withdraw some cash from an ATM. I pass within yards of Vanda’s house and for one fleeting moment consider going there. I know she will not be in bed as she too is plagued with insomnia, but it would be unfair of me to bring her into this. I feel very rational and, in a way, quite exhilarated to be free. I am thinking only of myself and don’t even consider that I may be acting irresponsibly by walking out.
There are one or two scary moments, since it is quite late in the evening and there is, as always, an element of rowdy and inebriated folk around, this being a Saturday night. I know that I don’t want to stay on the streets all night so, perhaps subconsciously, I find myself heading for a hotel near the city centre. I have money and I have my credit cards. Now all I need is the courage to walk through the door and ask for a room.
It turns out to be so easy and not one person gives me a second glance. It is as if it is quite normal for an elderly lady to walk in off the streets without car or luggage, seeking sanctuary for the night! I am seen to without delay and lock myself in the room. I feel very safe in this little haven and try to settle down for the night. Once again, however, sleep eludes me. I think I am too keyed up at this stage, so I spend a restless few hours awaiting the dawn.
Although it is included in the price, I don’t have breakfast, probably because I have no wish to be seen by anybody but also because my appetite has disappeared entirely. I wait until around 10am and then go down to the reception to hand in my room key. When I do so, for some reason I find myself asking if the room is available for a further two nights. When I am told it is, I book it and pay the receptionist with my credit card. Following this, I leave for the day.
I know that, if I am to remain at the hotel, I will need a few personal things – toiletries, a nightgown perhaps and some reading material. I decide to walk towards the city and spend a not-unpleasant day, taking in a market/car boot sale and browsing through some of the shops in the town. I don’t imagine for one minute that anyone will be out looking for me – not yet and probably not at all – but I keep a sharp lookout nevertheless. I don’t want to be seen by anybody who knows me. I am not ready for confrontation at the moment.
Because I am so unused to walking very far nowadays, I am extremely tired by early evening and wish only to get back to my safe little room at the hotel. I return with the bits and pieces I have purchased and manage to get inside undetected. It feels very good to be there all on my own and I am beginning to find some peace of mind. It doesn’t enter my head that people may be worried about me. I just assume that they know I am a sensible person and unlikely to come to harm.
I have a luxurious bath and settle down to do a bit of reading and to think about where I will spend the next day. I am very tired now, but quite relaxed and in control of myself. The flight from home and the walking have taken their toll and by 9pm I am in bed. I sleep well for the first time in eight months, and only wake at 6am the following morning. Again I forego breakfast, although I haven’t eaten since Saturday and it is now Monday. I am not hungry, though, and feel beyond eating. I leave the hotel by 9am and set off walking towards the city centre, stopping along the way to draw out some more money. The weather is warm and I feel a little out-of-place in my trousers and woollen jacket but nobody shows any untoward interest in me.
I decide I will take a bus into York and spend the day there. I want to get out of this town and don’t want to risk running into anyone who knows me here. I find out the times of buses and sit in the station buffet until 10am, when I leave for York. The journey is pleasant, the passengers few and I spend an agreeable day on my own. There is one bad moment during the early afternoon, when my lack of food catches up with me and I feel as though I’m about to faint. God forbid I should end up in the hospital, so I make myself have a sandwich and afterwards I feel all right again. It feels good to browse around alone and I buy a few little trinkets to take home for the family. As ever, they are all in my thoughts, but I am not worrying about them. I don’t even consider that they might be worrying about me, not at this stage anyway.
After a long and tiring day, I am happy to get back to the hotel again and the peaceful silence of my room. Nobody is looking out for me, so obviously my disappearance has so far gone unreported. This night I truly am exhausted and am really winding down by now. After a nice long soak, I am in bed by 8pm. I have another reasonable night’s sleep and awaken early the next morning. As before, I do not attend breakfast and leave at 9am to walk into the city centre. The walking is becoming easier as I get used to it and I make the journey quite quickly. Once more I find myself in the station buffet for a time and I have an energy drink to keep me going for the day. I had decided the previous evening that I would head out to Beverley and spend a few hours there, so I already know when and from where the bus will leave.
It’s another gloriously warm day and quite an enjoyable one. I look around the shops, buy a few oddments and sit and watch the world go by. I know that my time away is drawing to a close and I must return home at some stage today. It was always my intention to do so and I feel recharged and ready to face up to things now. I have done a lot of thinking and perhaps seen the error of my ways. I have come to the conclusion that I have been so full of my own pain and suffering that I have paid little attention to anyone else’s. We are all so distraught by the loss of Rachel, each in our own way, so why should I, her mother, feel it any more than anyone else?
I arrive back in Hull city centre in the early evening and begin to feel slightly nervous for the first time since I walked out of the house. I have not seen a newspaper since I left home, nor the news, so have no idea if I may have been reported missing. However, nobody gives me a second look when I get on the bus, so I assume I must have remained out of the news during my absence. I imagine that, even if Ray has reported me as a missing person, he would not do so until today at the earliest, so I can be home again before any fuss is made. How wrong I am …
The street and the house seem strangely quiet when I let myself in and it’s as if nobody is at home. Then Ray appears from somewhere and casually asks how I am feeling. It is very odd to be back home and feels as if I have been away for a long, long time. I feel completely in control of myself and somewhat defiant, especially when I learn that the whole world and his mother have been searching for me from day one. This comes as a shock and annoys me a little, though strangely enough it doesn’t bother me, as such publicity would have done once upon a time.
Ray is quite angry with me and considers my behaviour irresponsible but, after some discussion, we begin to see each other’s point of view and call an uneasy truce. I don’t know what is going to happen to us in the future but at least now we are talking. We are speaking of our doubts and fears, as we should have done months ago. I have no regrets that I bolted, nor does it bother me that people were looking for me. I don’t even care that the police became involved. I just know that I had to go and I feel all the better for it now.
I have a couple of drinks and a bath, after which I am very tired and so decide to retire for the night. Ray makes and takes several telephone calls and I am told that the police will be arriving in the morning to speak to me. Well, who cares? My son arrives home and seems very happy to see me, as well as somewhat relieved, I think.
Sleep does not come easily and I am up again by 3.30am and unable to rest for the remainder of the night. There are lots more phone calls this morning from family and friends who were concerned about me, and this is quite surprising. Until now, I thought that everybody just saw me as someone in the background who kept things going. It seems I was wrong all along.
Ray and John are very attentive towards me today, as are the police when they arrive. Everybody seems to be treating me like some sort of an invalid who is on the verge of a breakdown. This is so untrue. I am still the same, strong woman underneath but I had gone as far as I could go. I know now that I can see this thing through. I know what I have to do and I will do it, to see that my family survives this most terrible of tragedies.
I am very touched that both Ray and John have gone out and bought me little gifts, that messages of support came via friends and neighbours, all happy that I am back home again. Perhaps they do care after all? Ray is having a few days off work and we go off on our own once or twice. We both open up about our thoughts on Rachel, and I, at least, feel better for it. Ray is worried about me and I am worried about him, so we will have to take care of each other.
We are drawn one day, for the first time ever, to a village only seven or eight miles away and while there we visit an ancient church and graveyard. In this place, we spot the grave of a child who died in the 1800s and her epitaph could have been written for Rachel’s headstone. We know at once that it is what we have been looking for and wonder if Rachel herself sent us there to find it. We spend a pleasant few hours in this lovely little village and are surprised that we never knew of its existence before. I think that we are both beginning to recharge our batteries, though we are very tired, both physically and emotionally.
Tonight I have a few words with Kerry, who I suspect was as annoyed as she was worried when I disappeared. I have decided to keep all of my conversations neutral until after the trial, both with her and with Vanda. Maybe I have been unfair to both of them with my constant harping on about the situation. I have not spoken to Vanda since I returned but will see her on 7 September, her 35th birthday.
After outings on two consecutive days, Ray and I are weary. I feel as if I have run a marathon and now need to rest. I imagine this is a result of the past week and all that has occurred since then.
We visit Vanda on her birthday and take her a few gifts. I detect a slight coolness in her manner towards me and can understand why. I suppose she thought that I would get in touch with her above all people while I was away, but I couldn’t do that to her. I couldn’t put the responsibility on her shoulders by telling her not to let anyone know where I was. I simply had to be out of reach for a while and entirely on my own. Hopefully in time she will realise my reasoning behind all of this.
Ray is back at work this Monday morning and I speak with Vanda on the telephone. She seems OK and thanks us for the birthday presents. She is curious as to where I hid myself for three days but I am not ready to tell her yet. She will know soon enough and we will laugh about it all at some later date.
Ray and I do some work together in the garden and visit the cemetery. I find it quite amusing to learn that the police were lurking there while I was away, in the hope that I would turn up at some stage!
After eight months of doing only the minimum of chores around the house, I decide to have a blitz on the housework. It is still a great effort to do anything and I am very tired, but I am trying.
It seems that the trial will indeed begin on 13 October, which leaves us less than five weeks. I refuse to even think about it because, when I do, I become seriously afraid. I am assured by the police that there is no way that Rachel’s name can or will be dragged through the mud, but that is still my biggest fear. That and having to listen to what that hateful pig did to her. My child’s terror does not bear thinking of. Ray tells me he has a permanent knot in his stomach and is constantly on edge. He will need my strength more than ever in the weeks to come, and I shall need his. Thank God there are so many people behind us in all this, all wanting to see justice done, rooting for us. I am especially glad that Kerry will be here with us for at least some of the trial, and that Ray’s only brother is to make the journey from Ireland. I know that he will be a great source of comfort and support to Ray and that’s what he will need, what we will all need.
I read yesterday that a couple whose daughter was murdered four years ago are to divorce, even though the wife is about to give birth again. Reading her words struck a note with me and I could empathise with each of them. Only those who have suffered such a loss can understand the feelings and emotions one goes through, how a family can be destroyed. It is quite frightening to read also that statistics show 98 per cent of couples separate after such an event. I am very determined that Ray and I are going to be in the two per cent who do not.