Aylward Rebecca - Bye Mam, I Love You - A daughters last words. A mothers search for justice. The shocking true story of the murder of Rebecca Aylward

A daughters last words. A mothers search for justice. The shocking true story of the murder of Rebecca Aylward.

SONIA OATLEY

With Lynne Barrett-Lee

Rebecca for giving me the strength to complete it; I have felt you with me every step of the way, willing me to get up in the mornings and stay strong and fight on as I know you would have done.

Jessica and Jack, my children for understanding the need for me to write this book and giving me a hug when I needed it most xx.

Linda, my big sister for your endless support from the moment we knew our lives would change forever.

Robert and Roger my big brothers who looked after us all, Mam and Dad would be so proud of you.

My Lorraines who were and still are always there for me.

Linda and Marcus Roberts your support, especially through the trial, meant so much to us, and Marcus, who Becca always talked fondly about, she would have been so proud of you for being so brave.

Kayleigh, Nia Bethan and Lauren (Beccas friends) who she loved dearly and I know will always look after you x.
Lynne Barrett-Lee, my wordsmith for her feedback and enthusiastic support, and who always offered great advice! A professional author throughout with all the sadness and difficulties we had to endure, who helped me write this book and provided the perfect blend of knowledge and skills that went into authoring this book. I thank you for devoting your time and effort towards it.

Andrew Lownie, my agent for all his hard work in the publishing of this book.

John Blake Publishing for having faith in me and helping me tell Rebeccas story.

My editor, Chris Mitchell words cannot express my gratitude for his professional advice and assistance in polishing this manuscript. And thanks also to the illustrator and book designers.

Christopher Heath for restoring my faith and giving me words of validation from my Angel Rebecca.

St Marys and St Patricks RC School the primary school that Rebecca, Jessica and Jack attended. All the staff who supported us in so many ways through the worst time of our lives.

John Doherty and Charmaine Kinson, our Family Liaison Officers for their professionalism throughout, their understanding of our emotions and supporting us every step of the way.

Gareth Watts, the funeral directors for their kindness and the delicate way they handled the funeral arrangements.

To everyone who supported us throughout your cards, letters and kind words and for encouraging me to write this book I thank each and every one of you.

To all my new friends (way too many to mention but you know who you are) who sadly have lost loved ones in similarly tragic circumstances to us, living the same nightmare, the endless sleepless nights, the tears that never stop falling, the piece of your heart that will always be missing.

Without you all and your encouragement to keep going and telling me to stay strong for Becca this book would not have been possible.

Thank you.

T here 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 Rogers 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. Wed only moved into our new house in Maesteg, Bridgend, nine days previously and the landline wasnt being connected till Monday. The only other phone I had was Beccas iPhone and that had no credit, which was why shed taken my BlackBerry out with her instead I didnt 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 Id instilled a set of instructions in the children had them memorise both our home number and their Auntie Lindas number, and made sure they knew how to make a reverse-charge call.

Nevertheless, Becca hadnt 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 hadnt done so meant that something must have happened to the phone, or to her.

Oh, God, I said, staring at the screen. I dont believe it! We need to go to Lindas 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, cant 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 shes at Joshs grans house. Remember, theres no signal there, I reminded them. But though this was true, I had still felt sick with anxiety. The only reason I knew there wasnt a signal was precisely because Becca was so responsible; back when she was dating Josh before, shed taken the trouble to call and tell me, so I wouldnt worry if she went out of range. So if shed been going there, she would have texted or called to tell me again because she wouldnt have wanted me worrying. That was how she was.

My brother held the door open and we trooped out of the house into the bitter night. She should keep in touch, he was saying. Putting you through all this When she does get finally get home, you should ground her for a month.

As if I remember thinking that, even then. When she came home I wouldnt shout at her Id hug her. Hug her tight. I was so anxious right now that I knew Id find it hard to ever let her out of my sight again. My brother didnt know her like I did. How could he? He wasnt her mam. This was my Becca and that simply wasnt the kind of girl she was.

I kept trying to reassure Jack all the way to my sisters. Shed come home, I kept telling him. Shed be home before he knew it. But you know sometimes, dont you? When things are not right, you just know it. Yet you dare not admit it not to anyone, yourself included. Because if you do then your worst fears might come true.

The scent of pink-rose bubble bath had lingered in the hallway all day that Saturday, from when Id run Becca a bath at 6.30 that morning. Shed been up so early and, having heard her, I decided Id get up too, so I could make sure the heating was on and run her a bath. She hadnt been able to sleep a wink, shed told me as she joined me in the bathroom shed been much too excited about the coming day. Oh, Mam, I remember her saying with a giggle as she eyed the water. That wont even cover my knees!