‘What are you talking about?’ I asked, stopping the police officer in her tracks. It was a Friday afternoon in December 2018, and working as a registrar it wasn’t exactly usual for the Somerset Police to just pop in. At first I’d wondered if there had been a problem with one of my weddings , that perhaps something had happened and they needed a statement from me.
But when she mentioned that they’d had a call from West Yorkshire Police about something that had happened in Leeds, I’d become thoroughly confused. And then she mentioned Poppy’s name. ‘An ambulance was called early this morning, they couldn’t do anything.
’ She said. Suddenly realising what she was telling me, a raw, gut-wrenching scream escaped me and I fell to the floor. This person was telling me my daughter was dead .
It couldn’t be true. Yet it was. In an effort to comfort me, the officer gently said, ‘You’ll forget this.
I promise, you’ll forget this.’ But it’s been five years and I still remember every detail. I’ll never forget that day – the day I found out my daughter had been murdered .
Poppy was extraordinary. I know every mother thinks that their child is, but she really was. As a child she very quickly showed great promise, especially in maths.
She was bumped up into the advanced classes at school or took lessons with the year above where she always did well. But she never bragged about her results or thought of herself as better than the others. She was quiet, humble.
