Justice for Colette: My daughter was murdered - I never gave up hope of her killer being found. He was finally caught after 26 years. Jacqui Kirby
saw us and ran back on to the beach. ‘I’m exhausted,’ she said, flopping down on a nearby towel, baked warm and dry from the hot midday sun.
‘You’re quite the expert,’ I teased.
Colette rolled her eyes and laughed. Once she was dry, she ran back into the sea towards Amanda with her board to have another go.
She spent more time in the water than the windsurfing board itself. It still makes me smile to think of her happy in the sunshine, free from cares and worries – two weeks of bliss, never wanting to return home.
But return home we did, and Colette was due to start her final year at school before she embarked on her new and chosen career.
A few months later, in January, the phone rang. It was Salvatore, who wanted Colette to go and see him at the salon. We were puzzled as she wasn’t due to start her apprenticeship until the summer.
Less than an hour later, Colette walked in through the front door. She was in floods of tears and was inconsolable.
‘Whatever’s the matter?’ I asked, holding her in my arms. I’d never seen her so upset.
It took a few minutes for Colette to compose herself. Her chest was heaving with big heavy sobs, as through her tears she began to explain that Salvatore had decided that he was going to sell the hairdressing salon.
‘So there’s going to be no apprenticeship, no position and no hairdressing job for me,’ she sobbed.
‘It’ll be OK,’ I soothed.
But Colette’s heart was broken. To her this was the end of the world, and she fled to her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. But hours later, despite my assurances that something would come up, I could still hear her crying.
The following morning at breakfast, I tried to speak to her. ‘Colette, you’ve got a while before you finish school – at least six months, something else will come up.’
But she was barely listening; she was devastated. First the nursing and now this. I didn’t know what to do to make it better.
Later that day, Colette went to visit May and Ken in a bid to cheer herself up. She told them what had happened at the salon and how Salvatore was selling up. She was still feeling fed up when she came home a few hours later.
A few days later, I dropped by to see Ken and May. We were discussing Colette’s predicament and I told them how upset she had been. ‘I’ve never seen her like this – it’s as though the wind has been stolen from her sails,’ I sighed.
Aunt May thought for a while. ‘How about we buy the salon and then Colette can have her apprenticeship?’ she suggested.
I looked at her in astonishment. ‘No,’ I said. ‘You can’t do that – it’s too much, it’ll cost a fortune.’
But May was adamant and so was Ken. Colette and Mark were the closest thing they had to children of their own, so why not let them help out and keep it in the family? As it turned out, they’d already decided and had made the necessary enquiries. They had it all worked out.
‘I could manage it,’ May explained, ‘Ken can do the maintenance on the shop, you can work there and Colette can have her apprenticeship after all. It’s perfect. Then, when she’s fully trained, we could give her the salon – it would secure her future.’
Ken nodded in agreement. ‘We’ve been looking for an investment,’ he said, ‘and this is it.’
And so it was decided. All we had to do now was tell Colette.
That teatime, when I returned back home, Colette was mooching around the house – she’d been like that since she’d received the news about the job.
‘Aunt May and Uncle Ken are popping by to see you later,’ I called to her.
‘Why?’ she asked.
‘Oh, I don’t know. They want to see you about something,’ I said, trying not to give too much away in my voice. It was Ken and May’s job to deliver the exciting news.
Shortly afterwards, there was a knock at the door. It was my aunt and uncle. We called Colette down and she glumly walked into the front room. Her face was still crushed with the disappointment of the week before.
‘Aunt May and Uncle Ken have something to tell you,’ I began.
Colette looked at them quizzically.
‘We’re buying you the salon; that way you can have your apprenticeship and eventually run the shop!’ May told her.
Colette’s mouth fell open in disbelief. She gasped and clasped her hand over her mouth. Her brown eyes lit up with excitement, as she looked from Ken and May to me.
I nodded. ‘It’s true, what do you think?’ I said.
‘Really? That’s brilliant!’ Colette gasped, running over to hug them. Her eyes were full of tears but this time they were tears of joy.
‘I just can’t believe it. Thank you. Thank you so much,’ Colette said again and again.
At last, my daughter’s future was secure, or so we thought. After that moment, Colette was back to her old self. She was excited and was looking forward to starting her new career.
Salvatore sanctioned the sale and, as part of the deal with May and Ken, it was agreed that Colette would help out after school and on Saturdays. She began her training. She did everything from taking phone calls to making tea and coffee. If she wasn’t sweeping up hair from the floor, she’d be at the sink shampooing customers. She loved every minute and relished every moment in her new role.
One of the benefits of being a teenage girl working in a hairdressers was that Colette also got to try out all the new hairstyles for free. One day, she returned home from work and shot past me quickly in the hallway. She had her head bowed and I was immediately suspicious.
‘Wait a minute, young lady,’ I said. ‘What’s that at the front of your hair?’
As Colette turned to face me, I gasped. The front of her beautiful dark glossy hair had been bleached within an inch of its life. In its place was an awful custard-coloured yellow fringe the texture of frazzled straw!
‘Oh, Colette,’ I sighed, ‘What have you done?’
But Colette remained defiant. ‘I like it,’ she sniffed.
I shook my head. It looked awful. ‘Colette, it looks horrible, like a line across the front of your head. You’ve got lovely hair – you don’t need to do that to it.’
But Colette insisted that the custard-coloured fringe was here to stay. ‘It’s fashion, Mum,’ she said.
‘Well, if that’s fashion, you can keep it.’ I retorted. ‘It looks, well, really cheap – and you’re not cheap, Colette. Please dye it back again.’
I was begging her but she was already halfway up the stairs.
‘I’m in hairdressing, Mum,’ she said crossly. ‘What do you expect?’ With that she slammed her bedroom door.
In April, we celebrated Mark’s 19th birthday. Most people gave him money because boys that age are hard to choose presents for. Mark decided to buy a dog with his cash. He was working by now, so I reasoned he could afford to keep his own dog. He went to some kennels nearby and soon returned with a gorgeous Old English sheepdog.
‘I’m calling her Zara,’ he told us.
Colette adored Zara and was always making a fuss of the dog. She still had the hated hairstyle but I was working slowly to convince her to dye it back to its natural state.
A few days later, Colette was playing with Zara when Mark picked up the camera from the side unit. ‘Here, let’s get a photograph,’ he said.
Colette