IF Kate and Gerry McCann appear unnaturally stoic and dignified in the face of all the criticism, abuse and accusations that have been thrown at them over the past few weeks it is probably because, for them, the worst has already happened.

They have lost their child.

Nothing anyone hurls at them now - not the hurtful internet slurs, not the recent British newspaper poll which revealed almost half the public thinks they could have been involved in their daughter's death, not the Portuguese police accusations, smears and leaks to the Press - nothing could possibly hurt or harm them more than that.

They are enduring agonies no parent should ever know.

Yet even before they were named as suspects - on the flimsiest of evidence - I have listened to people in the supermarket or at the school gates, even some friends and family, say that there's "something not quite right about the McCanns" and "no smoke without fire" (whatever that means), that Kate has a "cold, hard face" (what sort of face would they have if they lost a child?) or that they don't trust the "so controlling" Gerry (can anyone blame him for doing anything it takes in an attempt to find his daughter?).

And I have always been reminded of the similar sort of malicious rumours and cruel speculation that surrounded the disappearance of my former chemistry teacher's wife in my home town not long ago.

At first, people were sympathetic when she failed to return home after attending mass at the local chapel. But it wasn't long before the idle talk started. He had a temper, some said. Perhaps she ran away to escape him. There was word she had gone to Dublin to make a new life for herself.

As the weeks, then months, went by with still no sightings, the gossip intensified. There was talk about what went on "behind closed doors", suggestions that, perhaps, he had been violent. People wondered if he could have murdered her.

As with the McCanns, people couldn't resist gossiping and surmising, filling the gaping holes in a story they really knew little about with their own wild theories, suppositions and assumptions.

It was heartless and cruel and none of it rang true. I had been on various school trips and outings with both my teacher and his wife. They were a lovely couple, warm and giving and relaxed in each other's company. They did a lot for the local community.

He was extremely supportive when she studied for an Open University degree and proud and full of praise for her when she qualified as a librarian. They had a large, loving family and all their children had done extremely well at school.

Now he was seen walking round town looking haggard and downcast. If he was aware of what the gossip mongers were saying, I don't suppose it bothered him as much as the fact his wife was gone. For him, as with Kate and Gerry McCann, the worst had already happened.

Her body was eventually uncovered in a ditch. It emerged that she had been raped and murdered by a youth who did some gardening work for them.

It is worth reminding ourselves that the McCanns, just like my former chemistry teacher, remain innocent of any involvement in their loved one's death. And unless they are tried and found guilty in a court of law, that is one of the few facts of this tragic case.

This fragile, tormented pair have not been found guilty of anything, other than, perhaps, leaving their child unattended and for that, they have suffered punishment enough. They, more than anyone, will be beating themselves up about that sorry lapse every day for the rest of their lives.

Now, more than anything else, the McCanns deserve our compassion, sympathy and support.

Before the funeral, I sent my old teacher a condolence card. They were a lovely couple, I wrote. I recalled the trips I had been on with them and told him what a wonderful family he had.

And I felt utterly ashamed, because I should have written all this to him months before, when he really needed to hear it.

A FRIEND couldn't believe it when she looked at her eight-year-old son as he came out of school the other day. "I hadn't noticed how tight his shorts are on him now, he must have had a huge growth spurt," she said. "How embarrassing, I'll have to go and buy him some larger sizes." Just then, his six-year-old brother came out of his class, in a pair of huge, baggy shorts, dangling down almost to his ankles. "Oh no," she said, suddenly realising they were in each other's shorts: "I was in such a rush, they dressed themselves this morning...