Babs, aged twenty, from Kettering, near Northampton. Studying humanities and economics. Mother’s a teacher, Dad’s a bank clerk. Saturday job at Boots the Chemist. Summer job at a handbag factory. Had holidayed in Greece, was planning a trip to Crete. Enjoyed horse-riding and dancing. Saturday night at the Mannville. Babs had a steak and kidney pie and two pints of cider. Landlord had a ‘late stop’ — we called them ‘lock-ins.’ It was raining, she fancied a walk rather than accept a lift, and was never seen alive again. The following evening her parents were watching The Onedin Line — I can still hear the theme tune in my head, I would have been watching too — when the police called to tell them Barbara was missing. Living in Bradford, they had talked about the Ripper and how she would never walk home alone. Found the next day (Monday) in a recess housing some dustbins, stuffed underneath a piece of old carpet weighted down by some stones. A red boot protruding from one corner. Sat in a slumped position, propped against the angle of where the two stone walls of the recess met. Legs bent at the knees and twisted towards the right. Head turned downwards.