n the summer of 1982, my auntie was 18 years old. She and her friends would often meet and “chill” (her word, not mine) on Cannock Chase in the evening time, probably in much the same way many teenagers still do today. One of the groups many pastimes involved donning horror masks and attempting to scare away couples, who often used the area for illicit liaisons.
During one such evening, at around 9:45pm, just before dark, my auntie, several times, heard a little girl frantically shouting for help. Rushing to locate the sound, she stumbled upon a dirt track and caught sight of the 6-8 year old girl, running in the opposite direction, shouting “help mommy help”. Immediately my auntie started to run after the child, but was unable to keep up pace. During the pursuit, she tripped and received a huge gash in her toe, but still she continued to run. By now it was getting dark and the little girl had reached an area of very densely planted, thick and bushy trees. She turned around to face my auntie, looked her de