ANJIE GALSWORTHY’S son Nathan Matthews, 29, murdered the daughter of her
own husband, Darren.
Yet remarkably, a year to the day after 16-year-old Becky Watts’s dismembered
remains were found in a Bristol shed, the pair are still together.
In our second exclusive extract from Darren’s heart-rending book about the
tragedy, adapted by MIKE RIDLEY, they each tell how their love
survived.
Anjie was completely worn out. I had returned to the hotel room where we
stayed during police searches of our house and suddenly blurted out: “How
the f*** are we ever going to get through this? I’m going to kill him.”
Anjie stifled a sob and whispered: “He’s still my son, whatever he’s done. How
do you think I feel knowing he’d done this to our family?”
I was so caught up in my own anguish that I was forgetting about the woman who
had always been there for me, my rock.
Whatever I was going through, it had to be ten times worse for her, knowing
her own son was the monster who did all of this.
“I’m sorry, my love,” I said, wrapping my arms around her. “I’m falling apart.
I’ve lost my girl.”
Meeting my gaze, she said: “Becky was my daughter too. I feel just as betrayed
as you by all of this.”
In the weeks that followed, Anjie became worried about the effect of Becky’s
murder on our marriage.
It had never entered my head that she could be held responsible for Nathan’s
actions, but she grew scared I was going to leave her.
She relied on me for so much more than love and support. Throughout her
illness with multiple sclerosis I’d been the main person to take care of her.
One evening she asked: “Are we all right, you and I? Are you going to leave
me, Darren, because of him?”
My heart stung. I looked into her eyes and said firmly: “Of course not. I
would never blame you for what he has done. I love you.
“I’m not going anywhere. I can’t be without you, you silly thing.”
Anjie smiled weakly then started to sob into my shoulder.
She spent a lot of time in front of the television, watching her soaps and
trying to forget about reality.
Meanwhile, I battled my demons and hit the bottle almost every single
nightsinking vodka after vodkaand drinking myself into a stupor. It seemed
to be the only way to numb the pain and blot out the bitter reality.
We couldn’t go on living like that, holed up inside the house. We decided to
go away for a few days.
I suggested Butlin’s at Minehead, Somerset, and we set off the next day.
I had hoped a holiday in a place Becky loved would be therapeutic for us — but
it soon proved the opposite.
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When we pulled up, I looked up at the entrance to the resort and felt grief
slam me hard in the chest. It was as if Becky was there with us. Everywhere
I looked were memories of her.
We went for a few drinks. Once the alcohol started to kick in, everything
started to unravel.
As we sat in the garden I said: “She should be with us.”
Anjie reached across the table for my hand but I snatched it away and seethed:
“This is all due to your bastard son. I spat: If it wasn’t for him Becky
would still be here.”
Angie blinked, her eyes filling with tears.
“Darren,” she began, but I shook my head, a fire burning in my throat as I
tried not to cry.
She sobbed: “I know. But Darren, please stop. He’s my son. I can’t help still
loving him for that reason alone.”
I shot her an incredulous look and snarled: “That boy — or should I say
monster — you still love, says he killed my girl. How can you say you still
love him after what he’s done to us?
“I wish your son was dead, not my Becky.”
Anjie broke down. I felt terrible. As soon as we got through the door of our
apartment I knelt down in front of her.
Tears rolling down my face, I croaked: “I’m so very sorry, my love. I didn’t
mean to take it out on you. I’m disgusted with myself. I’m finding it all so
difficult. I think I’m losing my mind.” It doesn’t get any easier, ever. ’
Anjie hugged me tightly and replied softly: “I miss her too.”
We spent that night as we would spend hundreds more — holding each other and
trying to make sense of our obliterated lives.
©Darren Galsworthy.
Extracted from Becky: The Heartbreaking Story of Becky Watts By Her Father
Darren Galsworthy. To be published by Harper Element on March 10, £12.99.
‘I miss her so much it hurts’
PEOPLE can’t believe Darren and I are still together after my son Nathan
brutally murdered his daughter, Becky, says ANJIE GALSWORTHY.
It has tested us beyond belief — but the main reason Darren and I are so
strong is simply because we have had to be. Nobody else could ever
understand the hurt, confusion and betrayal we’ve felt.
When Nathan stole Becky’s life our world imploded. I feared Darren would blame
me.
But I can honestly say I did everything I could for Becky and her brother,
Danny.
From the minute I met Becky, when she was two years old, I fell for her
instantly. With her big hazel eyes and cute smile, she had me hooked
straight away. Part of the reason I loved her so much was because she was so
like her dad. They shared the same stubborn streak, the same loyalty to
friends and family and many of the same mannerisms.
I used to find it hilarious when they argued with each other, both of them
sounding exactly alike.
When Becky discovered that I wasn’t her biological mother she cried for hours
on end — and so did I.
I always felt she was my daughter so it broke my heart to see her so upset. I
feared we would never have that same bond again. But our relationship grew
even stronger.
I miss Becky so much it physically hurts. One year on I can’t bear to set foot
in her bedroom, the room where she was murdered.
Despite having severe MS, if I had been in the house on the day he attacked
Becky I would have crawled up those stairs to stop him.
I would have defended her with my life.
