The Evil Within: Murdered by her stepbrother – the crime that shocked a nation. The heartbreaking story of Becky Watts by her father. Darren Galsworthy
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From the minute we knew Becky and Danny were permanently staying under our roof, I felt deliriously happy. I know it sounds corny, but I just loved seeing everybody together like that. On weekends I’d jump out of bed and rush downstairs to make us all a hearty breakfast, then we’d go out somewhere in the car.
As soon as we got our residence order for Danny and Becky, Anjie and I rushed out to buy them some new bunk beds and things for their room. I grabbed a few cuddly toys for Becky and some games for Danny – although I knew he would probably want to spend most of his time playing on the PlayStation with Nathan.
Becky had a few favourite toys, but she mainly enjoyed playing with her dolls and doing arts and crafts. She would often rush over to show me something she had made for me, perhaps a clay model or a drawing. She occasionally asked me to play dollies with her. I tried it once or twice, but I have to admit I was never very good at it, so we usually ended up playing basketball in the back garden. From an early age she also loved books. Her favourite bedtime story was ‘Little Red Riding Hood’, and she used to make me read it to her almost every night. Once she was staying with us, she began speaking more and more, until she was chatting so much that we forgot she’d ever been slow to start.
For Becky’s fourth birthday in June 2002, I spent the best part of a week making her her very own playhouse in the garden. I had to tell Becky I was building a shed, as she kept peeking around the back door to see what I was doing. I got some aluminium sheets from work and carefully created a miniature house, complete with windows and doors. It had a latch on the door, windowboxes full of flowers, and a velux window on the roof. Inside, I laid lino and arranged a little table and chairs, her dolls and a play cooker. I painted everything pink and purple, Becky’s favourite colours, and piled her presents inside for her to wake up to on her birthday morning.
When the day arrived, I carried her out to the back garden and pointed at the little house.
‘That’s yours,’ I said. ‘I made it for you.’
Becky furrowed her brow and looked at me suspiciously. ‘No, Daddy, you told me that was your new shed.’
‘I said that so it could be a surprise,’ I said, laughing. ‘It’s far too small for me – it’s your very own playhouse. This is your birthday present. Look – all your other gifts are inside!’
It took a moment for the penny to drop, and then Becky beamed with delight and squirmed out of my arms. She ran straight into the house and sat down to open the rest of her presents. Later that day, she dragged poor Danny in there to play ‘house’ for hours. He even had to eat his tea in there with her! He was less than impressed, but he could see it was worth it for the look of joy on Becky’s face.
That night, when I tucked her into bed, she smiled up at me in her adorable way.
‘Have you enjoyed your birthday, sweetheart?’ I asked.
She nodded sleepily before muttering, ‘I love you, Daddy,’ and nodding off. Those were the moments I lived for every day.
Our lives had been completely put on hold while we fought for Becky and Danny to live with us, so that summer I wanted us to have as much fun as possible. I pushed my overdraft right to its limit and I added quite a bit to my credit card bill too – but it didn’t matter, because finally we were all together. That July, the five of us went on a week-long holiday to Littlesea, Weymouth. I bought a second-hand caravan and we pitched up in a big green field and spent hours and hours of quality time together. During the days we played adventure golf and tennis, and I taught Becky and Danny to swim. In the evenings, we made a campfire and toasted marshmallows over it. Once the kids were asleep, Anjie and I had a drink under the stars.
One night, I looked across to see her smiling at me.
‘Well, that’s it now, love,’ I said. ‘It’s the five of us together from now on. Lots more memories to make.’
As she reached across and squeezed my hand, I couldn’t remember ever feeling happier.
There were always going to be some teething troubles, bringing together three kids with such a big age gap between them, but on the whole it wasn’t too bad. Danny and Nathan got on fine from the start, but Becky continued to get on Nathan’s nerves sometimes. One of his hobbies was painting Warhammer fantasy models. He used to sit at the coffee table in the living room for hours on end, carefully painting these miniature fighters from make-believe worlds with paintbrushes that were so well-used they only had two or three bristles left. He was brilliant at it, and I was always impressed by his patience – much more than I’ve ever had! Sometimes he would try to get us all involved, and Anjie, Danny and I would do our best, squinting down at the little figurines and trying to keep a steady hand. However, little four-year-old Becky wasn’t so careful. Once, she toddled over to see what we were doing, grabbed a model, dunked it in a pot of paint and held it out to Nathan, smiling proudly. Of course, she had ruined the model completely and Nathan was furious, but her eagerness to please him from an early age was there. Becky clearly adored him.
As time went on, Becky grew more and more attached to Anjie, and one day, when she was five, we realised she didn’t entirely understand the relationships in our ‘blended family’. I’d been on the phone to Tanya and I’m afraid the conversation had got a bit heated. After I hung up, Danny looked across at me from where he was sitting on the sofa.
‘Who was that?’ he asked.
‘Oh, just your mother,’ I answered.
‘Do you have to speak to her like that?’ he asked. Danny always protected his mother. I think he just wished we would all get on with each other, which is only natural.
‘She’s playing silly buggers yet again,’ I said. ‘You should have heard the way she spoke to me.’
Becky – who was lying across Anjie’s lap – grinned at Danny. ‘My mum’s better than your mum! My mum’s better than your mum!’ she sang, trying to tease him.
Danny looked at her, incredulous. ‘My mum is your mum!’ he shouted. ‘Oh Becky, you are stupid. She’s your mum too, you idiot.’
Poor Becky looked crestfallen. She looked at me first, uncertainty in her eyes, and then up at Anjie. ‘He’s lying, isn’t he?’ she asked.
Anjie glanced at me, a worried look on her face. We’d always known the moment would come, but we’d never really sat down and talked about how we were going to handle it.
‘You’re my mum, aren’t you?’ Becky continued to Anjie, desperate for it to be true. ‘Did it really hurt when I came out of your tummy?’
I knew we had to tell her the truth, so I decided to grab the bull by the horns. I crouched down next to Becky while Anjie wrapped her arms around her. Becky sat, listening silently as I explained that Tanya was her mum, not Anjie.
‘You never actually came out of Anjie’s tummy, darling,’ I said soothingly. ‘Danny’s right, you’ve both got the same mum.’
Suddenly, Becky let out an ear-piercing scream. She burst into tears, looking utterly devastated. Anjie tried to console her, but she squirmed away and bolted up the stairs to her bedroom.
As soon as the door slammed behind her, Anjie burst into tears too. ‘I wish she was mine,’ she sobbed. ‘She feels like she’s mine.’
‘I know, love,’ I said, giving her a hug. ‘She’ll be OK, I promise.’ I hated seeing Anjie upset almost as much as I hated seeing any of my kids upset.
But Anjie knew how to handle it. She went upstairs and gently knocked on Becky’s door. I heard Becky let her in – and that’s where they stayed for the rest of the day. They cuddled up together, talking, reading and watching television. I brought them their dinner on a tray that evening, and then at night Anjie slept in Becky’s bed with her. That seemed to do the trick because the next morning she was right as rain.
She came bouncing down the stairs and beamed up at me the way she always had. ‘I’ve got both a mum and