My Precious Girl Murdered In Her Bed

Life should mean life for our Tessa’s killer By Heather Howden, 75, from Selsdon

- Kirsty English

Holding Tessa as a baby for the first time, I remember thinking just how lucky I was.

Two perfect little girls. My eldest Shirley was 2 and doted on her baby sister.

They bonded instantly, and the years passed quickly as my two girls grew upside by side.

We were lucky enough to live in a lovely little house tucked away at the top of a cosy cul-de-sac.

Woods backed onto our garden and all our neighbours had children of a similar age.

Not a day went by without a knock on the door.

‘Can Shirley and Tessa come out to play?’

I loved being a mum and my husband David would work long hours in a garage he owned.

We took trips with the girls and even went on mass holidays with many of our neighbours – once, there were 40 of us staying in the same Spanish hotel! 

Life was idyllic.

Then, when the girls were teenagers, a couple of strange things happened.

I noticed items of underwear mysteriously disappearing from the washing line, particularly knickers.

Then the back-door key went missing and we had to get the locks changed.

Some other neighbours were having the same problem. 

‘Must be childish pranks,’ we decided.

The teenage years whizzed by.

Before I knew it, Shirley was ready to leave home and get married. 

Tessa, then 19, moved into her bigger front bedroom.

‘It won’t be long before she’s flying the nest, too,’ I said to David.

She had a steady boyfriend at the time and marriage had been mentioned.

Tessa had a marketing job with our local newspaper. She was doing well there. 

One evening in January 1986, Tessa announced work were sending her to a Barry Manilow concert – and she was taking me, too! We were so excited.