Davina Williams - The Runaway Schoolgirl: This Is the True Story of My Daughters Abduction by Her Teacher Jeremy Forrest

I t was just a normal day. My eighteen-year-old son Lee was at work with my partner Paul and my fifteen-year-old daughter Gemma was at school. My four-year-old, Alfie, was at nursery and my baby daughter Lilly was having a morning nap. I was sitting at the kitchen table, flicking through the Argos catalogue looking for furniture for the new house. We hadnt found the right place yet, but with four children at home and my middle daughter Maddie, who was eleven, staying at her dad Maxs place, we needed more space.

I was looking at bedroom furniture for Gemma when I received a text message from her school telling me that she hadnt turned up for registration that morning. There was a number to call or I could text a reply.

I knew I shouldnt have let her go to her friend Louises for a sleepover on a school night, I thought. Gemma had pleaded with me to let her go, as Louises dad was working late and she didnt want to be on her own. Just this once, I told her, but make sure you get up for school in time. I dont want any phone calls saying you two havent turned up!

They were good girls. I didnt want them to be up all night chatting and then sleep through their alarm the next day, but I felt I could trust them.

I wasnt overly alarmed when I saw the text from the school. I knew they werent playing truant they never had, it just wasnt their thing. I sent a text straight back, asking them to confirm if Gemma hadnt been marked in for her first lesson.

Nearly an hour later, I received another text saying, Gemma is still showing absent, and I got straight on the phone to the school and asked the secretary to find out if Louise knew where Gemma was. I told her I would hang on while she went to check. In the back of my mind, an alarm bell rang. I sensed that something wasnt quite right, but I tried to dismiss it. It was probably a mistake, I told myself, Gemma would be in a different lesson.

After what seemed like hours, the school secretary came back on the phone, saying that Louise had told her that Gemma hadnt stayed at hers after all. Gemma had said that she was feeling unwell and had gone back home.

All of a sudden the alarm bells in my head got louder. I told the secretary that Gemma hadnt come home the night before. She went very quiet. After a short while, she spoke: I think you should call the police

I remember looking at my phone and, as I dialled 999, thinking this isnt happening to me. When I heard the voice at the other end of the line I had to concentrate on every syllable. My daugh-ter is miss-ing It felt like an out-of-body experience, as if it wasnt me who was forming the words. It was like I was behind glass, looking at myself making the call. I cant remember exactly what the operator said to me, but the gist of it was that they were going to send someone over to the house.

I called Paul, Mum and my sister Charlotte, and told them that Gemma was missing. They all said they would be on their way.

I didnt know what to do with myself, so I went up to Gemmas bedroom. Already I had been in her room that day to measure up for furniture and I remember cursing her for the state it was in drawers pulled out, clothes everywhere, your typical messy teenager.

I tried to kid myself that maybe she had been there all along, hiding under her bed or in a wardrobe, like it was just a silly game of hide and seek. I ripped off the duvet, looked under the bed and even heaved up the mattress, trying to convince myself she was somehow hiding there. I know it was ridiculous, but my mind was all over the place.

Random ideas started swimming around my head. What if Gemma had got back home late and couldnt get in? Maybe she had climbed over the garden fence and was asleep in the shed? The shed was packed full of junk, but could she have squeezed in somewhere? I ran to the end of the garden and checked it. I knew it was stupid, but I had to rule out everywhere, even daft places like small cupboards that she couldnt possibly fit into.

I put up a message on my Facebook page: Has anyone seen my Gemma? I got lots of replies asking for more details, but I only wanted to be told one thing that someone knew where she was.

I just wanted to know she was somewhere safe. I called her friends Louise and Ben over and over again to find out if they knew anything, but I never got through. I felt like a zombie. Gemma doesnt like the dark, I couldnt stop thinking. I hope shes not scared

Finally, I went out to the front of the house and stood in the driveway. I just didnt want to be inside. If Im not in there, then this isnt happening, I thought. Mum, Charlotte, Paul and Lee arrived, and eventually they convinced me to go back indoors. Then we waited for what seemed like an eternity for the police to turn up. I think by this time I was in shock; I just couldnt function. I wasnt thinking the worst that maybe she had been in an accident or attacked because I wasnt thinking anything at all. I was totally numb.

Charlotte called Max, my ex. When he arrived, he, Charlotte and Lee went on Twitter and other social networking sites to spread the message further. Lee then went out with a group of friends in a car, searching the streets looking for Gemma and contacted everyone he knew, but he came back beaten and desperate that nobody had any news. Meanwhile, Mum and Charlotte went over to the school to see if they had any more information, but left with nothing more than the offer of a cup of tea and a prayer.

Paul and I were racking our brains about who Gemma could possibly be with, and I sent a text to Gemmas friend Ben to see if he knew anything. He eventually replied, saying: The only thing she said to me at school was that she didnt want to be here, but I thought it was just because of the rumours. Me and Louise are her only close friends and we dont know where she could have gone because she didnt mention anything.

I knew what he meant about the rumours there had been some gossip involving Gemma and one of her teachers that had been doing the rounds, but I had dismissed it at the time.

Then two policemen turned up at the house and started asking the standard missing person questions. Whats her full name? Her date of birth? When did you last see her? Whats the name of her doctor and dentist? I didnt really understand that last question at the time, but I later realised they were thinking that, if their worst fears were to come true, they would need Gemmas medical records to identify her body.