Bye Mam, I Love You

A Daughter’s Last Words. A Mother’s Search for Justice. The Shocking True Story of the Murder of Rebecca Aylward

By Sonia Oatley, Lynne Barrett-Lee

John Blake Publishing Ltd

Copyright © 2014 Sonia Oatley and Lynne Barrett-Lee
All rights reserved.
ISBN: 978-1-78219-987-8

Contents

Title Page,
Dedication,
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS,
PART ONE,
Chapter One BACK TOGETHER AGAIN,
Chapter Two WHERE’S BECCA?,
Chapter Three A MOTHER’S INSTINCT,
Chapter Four THE WORST NEWS EVER,
Chapter Five PURE EVIL,
Chapter Six LIVING NIGHTMARE,
Chapter Seven MY LITTLE ANGEL,
Chapter Eight HIGH HOPES,
Chapter Nine KEEPSAKES AND DIARIES,
Chapter Ten HOLDING ON,
Chapter Eleven GOODBYE, MY DARLING,
PART TWO,
Chapter Twelve KINDNESS AND COURTROOMS,
Chapter Thirteen BEAUTIFUL BECCA,
Chapter Fourteen PUBLIC PROPERTY,
Chapter Fifteen MILESTONES,
PART THREE,
Chapter Sixteen CROWN COURT,
Chapter Seventeen TAKING THE STAND,
Chapter Eighteen DAVIES’S STORY,
Chapter Nineteen OBSERVING A PSYCHOPATH,
Chapter Twenty THE VERDICT,
Chapter Twenty-One ‘TOP DOG’ NO MORE,
Epilogue,
Victim Impact Statements,
Goodbye,
Plates,
Copyright,

CHAPTER 1

BACK TOGETHER

There is an instinct, I think, that exists in every mother. A sixth sense that tells you something bad has happened to your child, no matter how much people try to reassure you otherwise.

It was 7.30pm on Saturday, 23 October 2010 and my brother Roger’s phone battery had just died. I had been using it to call the police, trying to report my eldest daughter Becca missing and, frustratingly, had been cut off mid-sentence. I had no other phone I could use to call back either. We’d only moved into our new house in Maesteg, Bridgend, nine days previously and the landline wasn’t being connected till Monday. The only other phone I had was Becca’s iPhone and that had no credit, which was why she’d taken my BlackBerry out with her instead – I didn’t want her going out with no way of getting in touch and my BlackBerry was on contract. It was a bit of a thing with me and always had been. From a very young age I’d instilled a set of instructions in the children – had them memorise both our home number and their Auntie Linda’s number, and made sure they knew how to make a reverse-charge call.

Nevertheless, Becca hadn’t been in contact for six hours now, which was completely unlike her. She was a good girl. Reliable. She always answered my calls. The fact that this time she hadn’t done so meant that something must have happened to the phone, or to her.

‘Oh, God,’ I said, staring at the screen. ‘I don’t believe it! We need to go to Linda’s house and call them back from there,’ I told my brother as I grabbed my coat and bag. ‘The sooner we do that, the sooner they can go out and start looking for her, can’t they? This is just so not like her.’

My other daughter, Jess, was out looking for Becca, and Jack, my youngest, kept asking, ‘Where is she, Mam?’

‘Maybe she’s at Josh’s gran’s house. Remember, there’s no signal there,’ I reminded them. But though this was true, I had still felt sick with anxiety. The only reason I knew there wasn’t a signal was precisely because Becca was so responsible; back when she was dating Josh before, she’d taken the trouble to call and tell me, so I wouldn’t worry if she went out of range. So if she’d been going there, she would have texted or called to tell me again because she wouldn’t have wanted me worrying. That w