KERRY: I was 19 and living on Kos with my parents when Ben disappeared.
He was 21 months old then. Ben’s father and I were advised that having
another baby would ease the pain. But I had mixed emotions about having
another child, because while Ben was missing I knew there’d be times I’d
have to put one child before the other.
Three years later I had Leighanna. My relationship with their father was
extremely rocky, and we separated when Leighanna was two weeks old. I’d
loved her instantly when she was born, but it took a while to bond. I was
pleased she was a girl; a boy would have been more difficult, because he
wouldn’t have been Ben. But having another baby did not take away the pain.
I couldn’t cope. So, when she was 19 months old, Leighanna went to live with
my mum and dad.
Wherever I went I was “Ben Needham’s mum”, and I just wanted to be me. When I
got a job in a nightclub, my parents were furious. They thought I was being
selfish and just wanted to party, but it wasn’t like that. I needed to find
me. Looking back, I think I had a breakdown without knowing it, and I had to
fight my way out of it in my own way. And having friends who didn’t see me
just as Ben Needham’s mum made me feel like a person again.
I didn’t see Leighanna or my family for a few months, but once I felt I’d
retrieved my identity I wanted her back. As soon as I walked into my mum’s
house, Leighanna looked at me and said: “Mummy!” And I thought: “This is me
— I’m Leighanna’s mum.” She brought me laughter and fun. She was very
similar to Ben, and that made me happy because I could imagine what he’d be
like.
It’s been difficult not to smother Leighanna, to give her as normal a life as
possible. I had to let her do things normal kids do, even if I didn’t want
to.
If she went for a sleepover I’d be thinking: “What if someone breaks in and
takes her?” I knew I had to stop myself thinking “What if?” or I’d make her
paranoid. When she wasn’t around, it was like part of me was missing, but I
couldn’t let her see that, and I had to let her become independent. She’s
lived in the shadow of Ben’s disappearance, and she has to deal with that,
but she shouldn’t be living in the shadow of my paranoia as well.
I find it hard to discipline her. I allow her to get away with things because
she’s been through too much. I’ve only lost my temper with her once. That
was about going to a teenage nightclub on a school night. It didn’t finish
until 10.30. She said: “I’m only not allowed to go because Ben’s
disappeared.” But that wasn’t why — it was because it’s not safe and it’s
too late on a school night. Now she’s a teenager I have the usual worries,
but the fear of losing her in the shadow of Ben’s disappearance has lifted.
I’m stronger now and I can deal with Ben’s case without getting hysterical
or depressed. I got married two years ago and that’s helped me feel more
settled.
ITN asked me go to Kos last May because of the McCann case. Leighanna wanted
to come, but I thought: “This devastates me, so how’s it going to affect
her, a 13-year-old child?” But I gave in because she demanded to go. She
wants to be involved. And actually it helped having her there, as I had to
be strong. When someone shouted abuse at me, Leighanna screamed at her: “How
dare you speak to my mother like that!” I was really proud of her. It was
very emotional.
I think Leighanna and I have a stronger bond than lots of mothers and
daughters. She makes me happy; she makes my life worth living. And there’s a
lot of respect because of what we’ve been through together. Leighanna’s like
me.
I see myself in her. She’s got a mouth on her. But I’m really proud of her — I
admire her for how she is and how she deals with it all. She’s a really good
kid.
LEIGHANNA: My upbringing hasn’t been normal — there’s times when it
seems I’m a normal person, but there’s always that little bit of me where
there’s Ben. My mum told me about him when I was about five. Other kids
picked on me until a couple of years ago. They’d come out with snidey
comments. They’d say, “I know where your brother is,” just to see my
reaction. I had a fight with a girl once — a hearse went past and she said:
“For all you know your brother could be in there.” My friend had to drag me
off her. I was about 11. Mum would go into school. She’s always protected
me. Once I dreamt that private investigators had found his body and he was
dead. I told my mum and she comforted me. She said: “We know that’s not
true. I don’t think he’s dead.” There’s not a day goes by when Ben isn’t
mentioned, and that doesn’t bother me. But when we get press around, I get
put in the background. It used to happen a lot.
I’ve grown up in Ben’s shadow. There have been newspaper articles saying my
mum said she didn’t know if she could love me as much as Ben. I used to get
really upset about it, because I thought: “I’m not the one she loves more
than anyone else” — even though
I know Mum loves me as much as she loves Ben. I’ve only talked to her about it
once, and it didn’t solve anything because we got very emotional.
My life’s different from other kids. They haven’t had a camera in their face
since they can remember. My mum tries to protect me from it and make my life
as normal as possible. But she stops me going out late — after 10.30 Mum is
frightened the same thing that happened to Ben’s going to happen to me.
She’s got reasons to be frightened because of what happened. I understand,
but I argue. I’m like my mum — mouthy. And I don’t want to live in Ben’s
shadow. I’ve spoken to my mum about it and she says I’m not in his shadow.
Sometimes I feel angry because he’s not here. It’s weird having a brother
who’s not here — you don’t know where he is or even who he is. Even he
probably doesn’t know who he is.
I remember doing a reconstruction for TV of where Ben went missing in Kos,
when I was 21 months old — the same age he was when he vanished. They took
me to where he disappeared. I remember a cameraman in front of me waving a
duck for me to follow. I had all my hair cut to look like Ben. I’ve looked
at the photos of him and me at the same age and we look identical. It’s
strange to know my brother wandered off or was stolen. When my mum was going
back to Kos with ITN last year, I wanted to go to support her. When we were
there it sent shivers down my spine that my brother had been there, and we
met people who knew him, and yet I’ve never met him. A woman whose mother
knew my family said horrible things to us about why Ben went missing. I
shouted at her because I don’t want my mum to get hurt more than she already
is. My mum’s been through hell dragged backwards. It’s made us closer than
most girls and their mums. We’ve got a special bond, even though it’s
sometimes hard to talk about things, and I can’t tell her everything I want
to. Sometimes she knows how I feel, so I don’t need to tell her. But other
times she doesn’t know, and I should tell her, but I can’t because I’d cry
and it would make her cry. Sometimes the more we talk about things, the more
upsetting it gets. But as I’ve got more mature we can talk about things we
couldn’t when I was younger — boys and girlie things.
My mum has made my life as great as she could. She’s very loving and she’s
always there for me when I need her. She’s kind and generous and she’s got
good taste in clothes and she’s beautiful and she’s fun. She makes me laugh
— she’s playful and giddy. She never stops talking, like me. When I’m on my
own with her I love that, although I like my stepdad. He’s made my mum
happy. And if she’s happy, I’m happy. When she’s upset, I’m upset. And I’ve
seen her very upset — probably more than most children.
By Melanie McFadyean. Portrait by Eva Vermandel
