AT 11, I WAS STILL A DOE-EYED, LONG-HAIRED, SWEET AND INNOCENT PARTY POP GIRL. I ENJOYED LIFE AND HAD THE KNACK OF MAKING NEW FRIENDS. One of these new friends, Katie Webber, was four years older than me. This was a friendship that I would later come to regret, one that led to Huntley’s perversions against me.
How this matchless, younger girl–older girl friendship came about was through my elder brother Hayden. He knew Katie’s younger brother, James, and I knew James as well. My cousin, another Katie, lived next door to Katie Webber and they were the same age. That connection also helped to bring about the friendship, otherwise I would not have had any reason to become friends with her. Not that I’m blaming my cousin for what subsequently happened.
My cousin Katie used to ask my mum, ‘Can I take Hailey up town?’ and Mum would always say yes. Because she was friends with Katie Webber, this Katie used to come along as well.
Cousin Katie started mixing in different circles, with new friends, which meant that she didn’t spend as much time going to places with Katie Webber. That was the start of Katie Webber and I becoming closer, more like big sister and little sister. I was immersed in our friendship, perhaps because I had no sisters.
Now, instead of my cousin Katie, it was Katie Webber calling by and asking my mum, ‘Is it OK if I take Hailey up town shopping?’
Mum used to say, ‘There you go, there’s some money for a McDonald’s or whatever.’
Katie would buy me a Happy Meal with it and then get some fags with the change. I hadn’t begun to smoke then. In a way, this was ideal for my mum, as she didn’t have to give her time to me.
Each Saturday from then onwards, Katie used to take me to town and I think she used to enjoy taking me because the change that she had left from my meal supplemented her fag money.
I used to go to Katie’s house about every other day, so we saw a lot of each other. I lived at number 3 and Katie lived a short walk away up the road. I used to pass her house every day when I went to school, so I felt quite comfortable calling in to see her, and my mum was happy for me to go there, even though she kept a close eye on my movements.
One Saturday, with excitement fluttering around in my stomach about going into town with Katie, I quickly got ready and dressed. I think it was about a quarter to twelve when she came to the house and said to Mum, ‘Hiya, Mandy, is it OK if Hailey comes up town with me? We’re catching the twelve o’clock bus.’
Mum, of course, said, ‘Yes, that’s fine, Katie, as long as she’s back by five for her tea. Here’s some money for a McDonald’s.’
As I’d been in a bit of a rush to get ready, my hair wasn’t brushed properly. Mum looked at me in utter shock and, as her eyes opened wider, she screamed, ‘Actually, Hailey, you are not going anywhere like that. Go and brush your hair. Go on, go upstairs and brush your hair.’
Mum didn’t want me going out a bit scruffy, and not wanting to make a scene I said to Katie, ‘OK then, I have just got to brush my hair and put my trainers on and then I will be down.’
She said, ‘I will just meet you at my house then. See you then. You do your hair.’
Not wanting to delay things, I replied, ‘All right then, I’ll see you in a minute.’
I was rushing and thinking, I’ve got to get up to town with Katie for a McDonald’s and all of the rest of it. I brushed my hair and I got my shoes on and as I hurried out of the house, I called out, ‘See you later, Mum.’
As I rushed out the door, Mum’s words trailed off, ‘Don’t be late…’
I tore along to Katie’s and I remember briefly spotting Mrs Webber in her dressing gown, looking out from the bay window of the semi-detached council house. Just before I disappeared from her view, down the drive to the side of the house, towards the caravan that was parked there in front of a big shed, a large bottle of Pepsi caught my eye. A trivial thing, but that’s how clear my recall of that day is.
I suppose my senses were heightened as I was in such a hurry to get into town. Katie’s gran lived next door to her, and it was a close-knit community, so I’d felt safe enough walking the short distance to my friend’s house by myself. And, anyway, I didn’t have anything to fear.
Let me explain about that caravan. Because Katie was only 15 at the time and her boyfriend was 23, her parents didn’t agree with the relationship, so she had started living in the caravan at the side of the house. She was having a relationship with Ian Huntley – boyfriend and girlfriend. So, when Katie said she would see me at her house, she actually meant the caravan.
Personally, I believe she was infatuated with Huntley. She would say, ‘Do you mind if I go to the shops, Ian?’ and ‘Can I get you anything? Are you sure? I will only be two minutes. I’ll be back. Two minutes, Ian.’
Katie had been with Huntley for about eight months, and at that time, September 1997, I had no reason to feel wary of Huntley. There were no warning signs or anything like that. Little did I know there were allegations against Huntley going back as far as August 1995, when the family of a schoolgirl made an allegation that he had had sex with her. Nor was I aware that in April 1996, after a family reported their concerns to her school, social services became aware of another girl said to be involved with Huntley. The following month two further allegations against Huntley had been reported to social services by the families of other girls. On no occasion was there evidence upon which to prosecute Huntley. They say there is none so blind as those that refuse to see. I say there is none so blind as North East Lincolnshire Social Services and the Humberside Police Force.
As I look back on it, I wonder why no one became suspicious of the goings-on. Had I or anyone else been aware that such a filthy pervert was living in their neighbourhood, perhaps the death of two little girls could have been avoided.
I believe that all sex offenders, and especially those with multiple allegations against them, should be made known to the locality where they live. I am not talking about a one-off charge against someone with no previous convictions or a single allegation in this sphere of crime. I mean someone like Huntley, who was the subject of a number of allegations.
I had not learned anything about Huntley that would have alerted me to what he was. I had no reason, as an 11-year-old girl, to be wary of him. No one said, ‘This guy likes to have sex with young girls.’
I was never with Katie’s parents enough to get to hear what they thought of him. All I knew was that they didn’t like the fact that Katie was not going to school. For by then she had left school of her own accord, and she never went back.
Let me describe Katie. She always had her hair long; it was dark brown and halfway down her back, not as long as mine. It was permed into ringlets and she used to gel, spray and mousse it every morning. She wore make-up and she was paranoid about wearing glasses, which she wore for reading. From what I can remember, she lived in tracksuit bottoms, trousers or jeans. I would say she dressed like a chav.
My opinion on Katie living with a man eight years her senior would be like the pot calling the kettle black. Obviously, because of the situation that I am in now, I can’t comment without appearing to be condescending. What I can say is that, although she used to hang about with me, a few years younger than her, she was quite mature for her age. So I never questioned that she was seeing a 23-year-old man.
Mind you, she did brag about it. She would shoot her mouth off and say, ‘I get fags and I get beer and if I want this I can have it.’
In Katie’s defence, I must add that she would often say that he was always cuddling her and that ‘He looks after me’ and ‘He buys me cigarettes.’ As I got older I used to think, Just because he buys you cigarettes, it doesn’t mean you have to live with him. If I remember correctly, he stopped buying her things; he stopped buying her beer and pizzas and treating her to things like that. That’s just what I noticed; it wasn’t anything she told me. In fact, everything she was telling me seemed to be the reverse in real life. So, with that in mind, because she said she was happy with him, then maybe she wasn’t at all.
For a while, though, I do think she was happy with him.
I recall how they met. Huntley was working for Katie’s mum, Jackie, knocking on doors and selling raffle tickets for a child support charity. Sir Christopher Kelly’s report, mentioned in the Introduction to this book, suggested that Katie’s relationship with Huntley started as early as 1995.
My brother Hayden’s friendship with James Webber would be the catalyst for a fateful and accidental meeting between me and the future Soham killer Ian Huntley. And, as I said, no one in the community, as far as I know, raised an eyebrow about him living there in that caravan with a girl of 15. But he was a walking time bomb, waiting to go off.