The Evil Within: Murdered by her stepbrother – the crime that shocked a nation. The heartbreaking story of Becky Watts by her father. Darren Galsworthy

shy around other kids. Even when we were away on holiday and there were lots of other children running around, Becky wouldn’t mix with them. She was never very good at introducing herself into friendship groups and reading other children’s body language, so as a result she was often left out their games. She’d just spend a lot of time on her own, or with her family.

      Anjie and I hadn’t been particularly worried about this when she was at primary school because she had Hope, and she was also close to her cousin, Brooke, but from the minute she started secondary school, Becky found herself the subject of teasing by several different groups of girls. I suppose her lack of self-confidence made her an easy target.

      I didn’t know anything about it until a few months into the new term. When she came home from school one afternoon, Becky threw her bag on the sofa and plonked herself down next to Anjie, as she always did.

      ‘Hello, love,’ I ventured. ‘Had a good day?’

      She shrugged in response.

      ‘Why don’t you ever bring any of your new friends to the house?’ I asked, and to my surprise Becky burst into tears.

      Anjie and I looked at each other warily. ‘Oh no,’ she said, putting her arm round Becky. ‘What’s wrong?’

      ‘I don’t have any friends,’ Becky sobbed. ‘Nobody likes me.’

      I was gutted for her. I had been hoping that after years of being a bit of an outcast at the primary school, she would come out of her shell a little when she got to secondary school. It seemed it wasn’t going to be that easy. We talked to her for ages that evening, trying to boost her confidence, telling her that she was a lovely girl and it wouldn’t be long before everyone else realised it.

      Danny was in the same school so I secretly asked him if he and his friends would keep an eye out for any trouble if they saw her in the corridors, and we crossed our fingers and hoped it would get better in time.

      But it didn’t. One evening, I came home to find Anjie and Becky cuddled on the sofa again, Becky’s eyes red from crying.

      ‘What’s happened?’ I demanded, horrified, and Anjie shot me a worried glance.

      ‘We’ll talk about it later,’ she said firmly.

      I nodded and left them to it. Anjie was always much better at handling stuff like that than I was. Once she had calmed down, Becky went up to her room and Anjie came into the kitchen to have a chat with me.

      ‘Becky’s still being bullied,’ she said. ‘They are picking on her looks, her weight, everything. She had her brand-new jacket ripped off her back today.’

      ‘I’ll take the day off work tomorrow and go to the school,’ I said. Frankly, I felt like finding the culprits and giving them a piece of my mind, but Anjie shook her head.

      ‘I’ll go and speak to the school,’ she said. ‘And if that doesn’t work, I’ll send you in later.’

      That’s how it worked with us. Anjie was the calm, collected parent while I tended to be more like a bull in a china shop. I must admit, her approach often worked better than mine, but I couldn’t stand the idea of anyone treating Becky like that. It made me feel sick to my stomach.