I always think about where is Carmel Fenech, i dont know why......... i think its cos i am about the same age as her and ran away to London at 16.....but i told people where i was though....i dont know, i just always would want to know that she is okay........when i went to London used to live rough and sleep in nightshelters up west end, hang about all night on lecister square, there was loads of girls about my age them days in 1999 on the streets in west end...we got put in berwick street hostel for a while a lot of us....one toni was associated in a murder and got life in jail with 12 years and 12 for attempted murder, was a mugging gone wrong....i never did that btw.....and before i went London i went Birmingham, i was 15 then, i used to make money ticket touting n selling unofficial merchandise outside music arenas for random people i met, i just used to go to the gig before it started and approach the guys selling stuff, get some posters, whistles to sell, then go with them to get food while the show was on, got in car one night drove all way to Brum with strangers, got in some really mad situations at that age being young, and i know im just so lucky nothing bad ever happened to me that i couldnt get out of........
i dont think they ever found her tbh i just googled it and nothing recent came up, i know though it was a very public appeal for a while, i saw several items on TV about it and they had her face on the ICELAND milk cartons.....
i heard a lot she was in Peckham they believed, well i dunno i lived in peckham for a several years i cant say i ever sighted her tbh, okay its a large area but you get to see same faces n i would have recognised hers im sure........and talking to people asking if they ever saw her, i have everyone says no....
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=USIL8MjezAU
http://www.missingpeople.org.uk/areyoumissing/missing/detail.asp?region=SE&dsid=27
Dear Carmel
Your favourite song was Puff Daddy's I'll Be Missing You. How could I possibly imagine the significance? I remember you dancing around the living room and I want to cry. I miss you so much.
There's nothing you could have done that would make me love you any less.
You were such a tiny baby and you grew into such a fragile young woman, barely 5ft tall. Yet you were feisty, opinionated and utterly incorrigible.
You had a blissful childhood. Your life revolved around Sunday school and playing with the family German Shepherd, Bonnie.
But when you started secondary school, St Saviour's and St Olave's in South London, things changed. You'd been born with one leg shorter than the other. Suddenly, you were the butt of cruel jokes. Classmates nicknamed you Hop-along.
You'd always had high ambitions, but you started truanting from school. By 14, you were smoking and shoplifting. I could not believe it. We were such a tight-knit, loving, Christian family.
Now I wonder if my divorce affected you. Your father left when you were tiny. You've rarely seen him and that must have dented your self-esteem.
You were looking for love and you thought you'd found it - among a gang of drug dealers.
You started staying out nights, pretending you were with friends. I'd trawl the streets, hunting for you. Then you'd breeze in: "Sorry, Mum, it won't happen again." I'd throw my arms around you and try to believe it would all be all right.
But, of course, it wasn't. I was devastated when I discovered you were taking crack cocaine, aged 15. I pleaded with you to stop.
A year before you went missing, we moved out of our council flat in Peckham, South London, and into a lovely three-bedroom detached house in Crawley.
We wanted to give you a new start, away from the drugs and the squalor. It was a huge sacrifice for the other children, who had to say goodbye to their friends, but we loved you so much that we were prepared to try anything to keep you safe.
But you carried on disappearing back to your old haunts. You became paler and thinner. "I know I need help, Mum," you sobbed.
I was so used to you vanishing for days that I didn't worry at first when I didn't hear from you. It was only when the days turned into weeks that I began to panic.
The police discovered you were last seen at Camberwell Magistrates' Court on a shoplifting charge. Fined £5, you'd left the court with just £1 in your pocket - and vanished into thin air.
Your drug-addled friends were quizzed by the police, but they all claimed to know nothing.
Every day since then has been torture. I miss you so much my whole body aches with longing.
Some nights I dream that I find you. I hug you and beg you to come home. You smile gently: "Sorry, Mum. I'm not ready yet," you whisper. "I'll be home soon." I wake up sobbing.
So much has happened since you went. You adored children, so you'll be thrilled to know your sister Mandy has a seven-year-old son, George, as well as her little girl, Ellie, ten.
And five years ago, your brother Joe became a dad. He's named his little girl, Kara Carmel, after you. She loves looking at your photo. I tell her: "This is Auntie Carmel. She isn't with us right now, but one day she'll come home and will love you so much."
Remember how you called him Yo-Yo because you couldn't pronounce Joe? All the little ones call him that, too. I close my eyes and I can hear your voice.
The house will be full at Christmas. But nothing can disguise the aching emptiness because you're not here.
I know you'll understand why I haven't bought you any presents. For the first few years after you went, you always had a stocking stuffed with bath products and your favourite chocolates.
But seeing those presents still under the tree on Boxing Day was unbearable.
If you can't join us this Christmas, please just ring and let me know you are OK. Honestly, darling, that's all I need.
If you have seen any of the people featured or if you are on the missing list and can't face calling home, ring the National Missing Persons Helpline on Freefone 0500 700 700. You can make a donation to the charity at www.missingpersons.org or by calling the helpline.
Read more: http://www.dailymail.co.uk/femail/article-424084/Please-come-home-Christmas.html#ixzz11QcGTUMV
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