'Our Love Survived a Murderous Knife Attack'
‘I met Glyn in May 1999, at our uni bar. I was in the final year of my radiography degree and wasn’t really looking for a relationship, but when he asked if he could join me, I felt my resistance melting.
He was funny, interesting and spontaneous. Then after I graduated, he convinced me to spend the summer with him. We both got on well with each other’s families and friends - I knew Glyn had passed the test with my family when they teased him about his height and huge feet.
Three years on, we were living together (in the UK) and saving money for a trip to Australia. I would leave in June to meet up with friends, and Glyn would join me two months later. Every night, we’d pore over a big map, planning our trip.
Then, a month before I was supposed to leave, my grandmother died. Glyn wanted to be with me at her funeral, but he’d already promised to go to a mate’s bucks weekend, and I persuaded him to still go. I had no idea how much I’d come to regret that decision.
When the phone rang at my parents‚ house at 5am, I assumed it was Glyn, drunk and wanting to talk to me. I smiled as I stumbled down the hall.
Then I recognised his dad’s voice.
“Rachel,” he said quietly, “Glyn’s been stabbed.” I started to panic. All he knew was that Glyn was in hospital. As I hung up, my hysterical sobbing woke my family. My parents raced me to the airport where sympathetic airline staff squeezed me onto the next available flight home.
At the hospital, when I was told Glyn was in intensive care, I felt a fresh jolt of fear as I realised how badly hurt he was. I found his parents, and standing nearby were police officers. They explained Glyn had left the bucks do and was walking alone to his friend’s house when a man grabbed him from behind and held a knife to his throat. Instead of handing over his mobile, Glyn tried to get away and the man launched into a frenzied attack, stabbing him over and over. By the time an ambulance was called, Glyn had 25 stab wounds to his chest, back and neck. They told me it was a miracle he was still alive.
I was in shock. Glyn was unrecognisable, covered in tubes and bandages. I broke down and cried. The doctors told us the stabs had, amazingly, missed his vital organs and his arteries by millimetres. They’d operated on his lungs, which had collapsed. All we could do was wait. If his wounds started to heal, they could wake him, but just one infection could be too much for his body to take.
The police told us they had closed off the scene of the crime. And their next words left me reeling. “We’re launching a murder enquiry.’
I couldn’t give up on Glyn. Although he couldn’t hear me, I talked to him constantly and read to him, willing him to wake. My mum arrived and begged me to get some rest, but I wouldn’t leave him. His parents stayed, too, but he remained critical.
After four days, Glyn’s doctors decided to stop sedating him. It would take him a day to wake up and there was a chance he would relapse, but I was filled with relief. He was going to recover. I knew it.
I saw his eyes flicker open 24 hours later. He had a tube in his mouth, so he couldn’t speak. “You’re going to be fine,” I said, kissing him softly.
He spent the next two days asleep, too confused to understand what had happened. He couldn’t remember anything of his attack, but the police told
us they’d found DNA at the scene matching a man whose details were on record and they had arrested him.
Part of me wanted to break down and tell Glyn how horrific the past week had been, but I knew I had to be strong. To keep Glyn’s mind occupied,
I talked non-stop about Australia and the things we’d do once he was well again. I helped the nurses wash his hair and held his hand as he slept. He was determined to improve and when he was ready, l helped him make his first few steps across the room.
Two weeks after the attack, he was discharged. We were so relieved, but on our first night together, Glyn was subdued. “Are you OK with this?‚” he asked, looking down at his poor, savaged chest. I told him a few scars could never change the way I felt.
But his confidence began to decline. He felt guilty about putting everyone through so much. He slept most of the day, frustrated at how weak he felt.
After a week, he was ready for a trip outside, but he was jumpy, flinching whenever someone was behind him. His physical recovery was only the beginning - he now had to deal with the emotional scars.
As the weeks went by, we took more trips outside. We still talked about Australia, but we both knew he wasn’t well enough to go. Then he said, “l
think you should go without me.” I protested but I realised he was right. If I went, it would be the motivation he needed.
I agreed to meet my friends in August, with Glyn joining me in October. Almost immediately, I sensed a change. He started eating and exercising
and, by me end of June, I could already see how much stronger and more confident he was.
Leaving without Glyn was the hardest thing I’ve ever done, but I called him every day. And from the moment I saw him in Brisbane in October, I could see it had been worth it.
He looked like his old self again.
After three fantastic months, we returned to London for the two-week trial. Glyn had to relive the stabbing and come face to face with his attacker, who showed no remorse. But, as the guilty verdict was announced, the relief we felt made his court ordeal worth it.
We returned to Australia and it was as if the horror was finally over. For the next six months, we travelled, surfed and made friends. Now we are back and he’s looking forward to our future as much as I am. I’ll always be amazed by his strength and will to survive.’