Mum’s Worst Day

Quite how Craig managed to write his account of February 20th 2003 I don’t know but I do know that there has been a great deal of response to it. Many of you have said by doing so they have been able to put the ‘pieces together’. Because of so many comments received since Craig published his account, I too am writing how I spent the day which changed our lives forever.

The 19th February 2003 wasn’t just any day to me. It was the 5th anniversary of my Mother’s death. She and I were very close and I was just coming to terms with her death, realizing she had really gone. For the first time since her passing I worked on the day. At the time I was temping at a company in Cookham Dean. Debbie, who had given me a lovely card before she left for work, kept phoning me to check that I was doing OK. I worked alongside Vickie who soon cottoned onto the fact that I obviously had something on my mind. I remember her coming down to the basement where I was working and she sat and talked to me about the day. Vickie had lost her Father at the age of 17 so knew exactly how I felt. It was probably that ‘club membership’ that sealed our friendship.

During that evening I was having my hair cut and coloured – the colour being most important because I was going to spend a few days in the sun – and of course had to look good! Wal had invited me to go out to Portugal to stay with him and a friend. The house seemed to be very busy that evening and there was much chat and hilarity about me never returning from Portugal. It was a fun night. KFC was on the menu and it was enjoyed by Stan and She She as well. She She too had called me during the day to keep me buoyant. Craig went home first, She She and I had a-nother glass of wine and then she and Stan left for home. Debs and I had words about getting to the airport and yes, she did go out for about 20 minutes – ironically to her father’s grave. When she came home I was in my bedroom packing and called out to her “I love you” and she responded “love you too”. We both went to bed.

My alarm went off at 4.15 the next morning, 20th February 2003. I got myself ready – the taxi was coming at 5 am. I wasn’t going to disturb Debs even though she had a 6.30 am appointment with her personal trainer at the gym but thank goodness I did. I went into her room, cuddled her, told her I loved her and to please take care of herself. She responded with a big hug and got up and followed me to the stairs. I turned to her, hugged her again, and told her not to come downstairs because the taxi driver was at the open door and I didn’t want him charging me double! As I closed the front door, I turned to look at her and she was sitting on about the second or third top stair with her face pressed into the banister – we again expressed our love for each other and I closed the door.

My plane, which had been due to leave at about 6.20, am was delayed for about half an hour – there were problems getting it to the gate. We finally took off and I was on my way to Portugal. Wal met me and we then drove for about 45 minutes to his villas. After being shown around ‘the estate’ Roger, Wal’s friend, very kindly made me a much needed cuppa which I drank in the warmish sun on the patio. I was also eating pistachio nuts – funny what one remembers. I hadn’t even been there an hour when Wal’s phone rang and after a brief conversation I visibly noticed the colour draining from his face, and the tone of his voice lowered and quivered. He put the phone down, held my hand and told me that the caller was from Thames Valley Police saying that I must return to England immediately as my Debs had been involved in a serious accident.

I hadn’t even unpacked but had unzipped my bag to take out a book which Debs had given me to read – that book is still in Portugal. Wal gathered everything up and put my case and me in the car. He sped to the airport telling me that there was a plane that afternoon – we missed it by 20 minutes. After much sorting out Wal managed to get me on a plane at about 6pm. He then sat down with me and asked me whether I would like him to go with me – I was desperately hoping he would. He then sorted out a ticket for himself. He phoned Craig on his mobile giving him the plane times and I had my first conversation with Craig. I could hear how upset he was and told him to tell Debs that I was coming and how much I loved her. We now had about four hours to wait.

As ludicrous as it may sound to you all today, Wals had come away without his passport – shock makes you react in weird ways – he was intent on getting me on a plane and hadn’t thought beyond that. He then said I had two choices. I could accompany him back to the villas so that he could get his passport and also give Roger instructions as to what to do and where to get everything. I panicked even more saying I didn’t want to risk missing the plane. So he took me upstairs to a restaurant, got me a coke, left me his phone and then said he would be two hours.

As I saw him walk away I felt sick, desperately alone, utterly helpless, totally out of control and very, very frightened. I then thought I must try and phone She She – I knew she would drop everything and go to Debs. There was no reply at home. I called her at work, they said she wasn’t in so I knew she was already with Debs. I knew that She She would give her the care and love which she deserved. I had wanted to phone Mel but didn’t have her number. I was hungry for information. My head was whizzing, screaming, I looked at my watch constantly, I wanted to be sick and of course, the tears were streaming down my cheeks. I called Craig again and could hear the anguish in his voice. I felt utterly useless – I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. I phoned Stan on his mobile and he answered. I asked him how bad it was and he told me that it was serious. The tone of his voice told me more.

I then started to think and put pieces together. Craig had said to Wals that he would leave his phone line open and would only take our calls. After a while the thought suddenly came to me that mobile phones cannot be used in a hospital, not even in these circumstances and it was at that point that I told myself that my darling Debs was dead. I called my brother Patrick in America. He came on the phone and I told him that I thought Debs was dead. He told me to be strong and I put the phone down.

Wals returned bang on the two hour time scale that he had given me. I told him that Debs was dead – he asked me who had told me and I said no-one, I just knew. He shook my shoulders and told me Debs is a very strong girl and I must be strong for her too. I cried and prayed that he was right. We then went to the bar where I sank several very strong gin and tonics.

I clock watched until we boarded the plane and took off on one of the longest journeys I have ever had to endure. I kept saying over and over again to Debs that I will be with her really soon. Coming into Heathrow I began to shake and cried uncontrollably. Our luggage seemed to take an eternity to appear on the belt but when it did Wal loaded it onto a trolley and pushed it and steered me through to meet Craig. As we came through the doors it took about a second for me to spot Craig, She She and two police officers. Craig, who looked very pale and drawn, hugged me and literally frog-marched me to a waiting police car. What more needed to be said?

I was pushed into the back of the car, Craig on my left side, She She on my right. When I questioned Craig and he answered me with the words I never, ever wanted to hear, I could have been physically sick. Perhaps he had it wrong, perhaps its not really Debs but someone like her. Maybe she was still at the gym or maybe she had overslept when she went back to bed when I left and was still there.

So many why’s, so many if’s. How could I not have been with her, I am her Mother, she my daughter and dearest friend. Why did my poor son have to experience all that he did? For him to break the news to me must have been so hard. I remember having to break the news to both of them when their Father died. The shock and disbelief is indescribable.

We drove at great speed to Wycombe Hospital. I needed to see Debs, be with her, tell her how I felt …………. but it was too late, she was dead. I remember being spoken to by some of the nursing team who were with Debs, being told that everything possible had been done to try and save my little girl, but her injuries were so severe there was little they could do. Poor, poor Craig, he had had to deal with so much. I will never forgive myself for not being with him.

I was taken to the Chapel of Rest and before entering I was told that Debs had “a tube” still inserted down her throat. Why – why did they have to make it worse for us – why couldn’t they let her be her beautiful self? I was told it was for the post mortem – why on earth did she have to have that when they already knew she had died from horrific injuries. When I walked in the smell of the room hit me before I saw Debs. I held her hand, I kissed her, I told her I loved her …………… she was cold. And yes, there was the most enormous pipe – not a tube – down her throat. Do ‘the authorities’ realize how distressing that sight is for those who care? She had no makeup on – after all she had been going to the gym. There was blood and a large dressing on her neck. There was dried blood on her hairline. I wonder what other damage there was on her beautiful, young and very fit body? Who had done this to my child, who had done this to Craig, who had done this to me? Why had my very dear and faithful friend, She She, been made to endure so much sorrow, been made to ‘step in’ for me. Little did we all know how much how lives were going to change forever.

There were many other people at the hospital, waiting in disbelief, waiting to be told it was all a mistake. They were there to support Craig and me and pay their respects to Debs. Nicki and Barry, our police liaison officers, took us home at about 11.30 and told us they will be back the next morning at 9am. That was the beginning of my association, and a future friendship, with two very special people. It was only the next morning that I learned just how much they had helped Craig. Iain was at the house, sitting all alone in the lounge, and I just hugged him close – what more could I do or say to the person who had been very close to my Debs and played such a big part in all our lives?

We all did go to bed, whether it be to sleep or just lie there and reflect and think. Everything was so surreal. Seeing Iain going into Debs’ room was normal, yet it wasn’t. Where was Debs? How would we, or indeed could we, ever come to terms with the fact that she would never be home again. I still haven’t to this day.

Regrets I do have. As a Mother you are given the task of protecting your children, being there for them, helping them in their time of need. I wasn’t. I am still haunted at the thought of Craig having to identify his sister’s body. I am terrified by visions of Debs knowing, and seeing, a vehicle was going to go into her, the thought of her being in pain, the thought of her being alone, the thought of me being in the wrong place at the wrong time. I also regret not having more children (although that was a decision taken out of my hands) so that Craig would have another brother or sister, not replacements, just another.

But I am also at peace in the knowledge that Debs and I expressed our love for each other always and especially on that day. I would ask you to do the same with those you love and care for. Debs taught me to never take a ‘next meeting’ for granted, you just never know. Never judge a book by its cover, give every person you meet the benefit of the doubt. There is always some good in every person. Build bridges not walls in your relationships. Debs had many friends from many different walks of life and always gave them her time. Please take a leaf out of her book.

Many friendships have been formed through this tragedy. Craig and I have been overwhelmed by the friendship shared with us, the support you have given to us, the caring gestures, the phonecalls and emails, the ‘just being there’. Thank you.

Writing this has made me cry buckets, perhaps not a bad thing, and I have so much more to say, and in time I will write my memories for you to read. As you will appreciate there are many! In the meantime please do write yours. It’s those stories that bring so much comfort to Craig and me.

Ding!