Gemma’s poem and Memorial Trophy I am always reminded of Gemma when I hear or read the poem “The Face at the Window” by Berlie Doherty. It was a poem that Gemma did, along with many more, in Drama Festivals. Debbie and I have many fond memories of this poem and of Gemma’s acting. One particular piece was most memorable as she swung a set of keys and talked about how she had treated a patient. Some of the funniest performances were those that she did with Michael in the acted poetry sections. Gemma’s memory lives on with the creation of the “Gemma Harrison Memorial Trophy” kindly donated by Debbie to the Richmond Festival. It is for the adjudicator to decide who gets this wonderful “star” trophy, they have a completely free choice. This year Anita Downey presented it to a 6th form student from St Mark’s School, Veronica, who hadn’t won or been placed in any section but who she felt had talent. Anita hoped that by giving Veronica the trophy she may begin to believe that she had ability. Veronica was astounded at receiving the award as she had never won anything so prestigious before. It almost seemed that overnight Veronica’s confidence grew and she began to exhibit more belief in herself. Both of her A Level performances were brilliant, she couldn’t have done anymore. It was wonderful to see her blossom. It was as if Gemma wove some magic. It was amazing! I will have a story to tell next year’s adjudicator who must also choose wisely so that not only can Gemma’s memory live on but that once again she can have the power to alter someone’s life. I have included the poem that Gemma did so well all those years ago. Jenny Thornton The Face at the Window Berlie Doherty I used to catch the bus to school alone On a corner where the wind blew from the shore There was a church, and where I had to stand A garage where they brought crashed cars to mend. And one day, early morning as I stood And watched the traffic on the quiet road I saw a face in one of the crashed cars Whose door and wing and seats were torn apart r knew that there was no-one in the place And yet in that crashed car I saw a face. I didn't want to look and yet I must And each glance brought the moment of that crash. I knew exactly what the girl was like Twenty or so, and pretty, and her look Told me how suddenly the crash had come Her mouth was barely opening to scream She couldn't close her eyes or turn her head Or stop that moment. And was she dead? I couldn't turn away or look at her The car was empty yet the face was there. It stayed in front of me all day at school Next day I said I mustn't look, but still The woman's face was there in that crashed car And she and I touched hands with that same fear And every day that week we shared a glance That stopped our breath and chilled our blood to ice. Asleep or waking I would know that face. That smashed against the windscreen with such force That her make-up had been pressed into the glass And into my memory, never to be erased.