Hunched against the wind that knifed through him, and trying to avoid the spray stinging his weathered cheeks even more, he didn’t see the body at first.
He had pulled his battered old overcoat tightly around himself, shifted his carrier bag of belongings from one hand to the other, watching as his feet sank into the sand, each footprint filling with water then draining away. He raised his head and, in the early grey half-light, saw what looked like seaweed in the ebb and flow of the sea on the shore. He squinted. Not seaweed, but hair, floating in the water. He moved closer. A girl, and a young one at that, pale face pummelled beyond all recognition and part of her scalp missing. Her body was at an awkward angle to her head – one eye gazing sightlessly up to the dark sky – lying like a broken puppet. Poor lass, he thought, poor, poor lass. He looked up and thought he could see a figure on top of the cliff where the end of the road had fallen into the sea. He thought he could see someone, but he wasn’t sure. A seagull wheeled and mewled above him.
The daughter of a top politician took her own life after a history of depression and eating disorders, an inquest has heard.
The body of Elena Devonshire, the 17-year-old daughter of MEP Catriona Devonshire, was found in December at the foot of cliffs in Hallow’s Edge, North Norfolk, close to the school where she was a pupil.
A post-mortem examination revealed Elena died from multiple injuries consistent with a fall. Toxicology tests also showed a small quantity of cannabis in her system.
Yesterday’s inquest was told that, between the ages of fourteen and sixteen, Elena had suffered from depression, coupled with an eating disorder.
PC Vic Spring from Norfolk Police said a text from the teenager to her mother had been discovered on the teenager’s phone, found in her bedroom at The Drift – the private boarding school she attended – which ‘strongly indicated’ she had intended taking her own life. ‘There was no suspicious evidence leading to her death and no neglect of care exhibited by the staff at her school,’ he said.
Norfolk coroner, Sarah Knight, recorded a verdict of suicide.
After the inquest Mrs Devonshire said, although her daughter had been treated for depression and an eating disorder in the past, she had since made a full recovery. ‘My daughter was looking forward to getting home for Christmas,’ she said.
Ingrid Farrar, one of two head teachers at the co-educational school, said, ‘Our hearts go out to Mrs Devonshire and Elena’s stepfather, Mark Munro, at this difficult time. The school has a robust pastoral care policy and we are more than satisfied we helped Elena all we could.’
Catriona Devonshire was elected to the European Parliament for the South and East on an independent ticket eighteen months ago. She has already proved an able campaigner in the area of human rights.
May
Despite the heat of the day, the window of the room was closed tight. Alex Devlin’s sister sat in her chair, staring through the glass. Outside, trusted patients were standing around smoking or sitting on the benches at the edges of the grass. One woman was talking animatedly to her nurse, who nodded, looking into the middle distance. The garden was lovely at this time of year – the lawn lush and green, roses blooming in the sunshine, the silver birches coming into full leaf, and Alex could almost smell the honeysuckle that climbed through the hedge of bamboo at one end of the garden. Birds chattered and hopped from branch to bird table and back to branch again. She badly wanted to be out there, away from the stifling air and atmosphere of Sasha’s room.
‘Sash? Would you like me to take you into the garden? It’s a beautiful day.’
Alex had been in the room for fifteen minutes and so far her sister hadn’t said a word. She damped down a sigh. It was really hard going to keep on chatting when the person you were talking to didn’t respond in any way at all. Not a sign she’d heard anything Alex had said. Not a flicker of expression.
She looked around the room. It was, considering the circumstances, a homely place, decorated in soft pastels. The bed had her sister’s own patchwork bedspread thrown over it. There were two pictures on the walls, both with the glass removed, of course: the first, a scene of beach huts and seagulls; the second, a small photograph of Sasha’s twins forever caught in a time of sunshine and ice creams. The shelves were full of Sasha’s favourite books, from Enid Blyton to Kate Atkinson. Did her sister need anything? The soap she’d bought last time was still in its wrapping. Not that, anyway.
She tried again. ‘Love, it’s gorgeous out there and really, really warm,