Tom spent a long time trying to decide whether to speak to the solicitor he had met socially through the local Rotary Club, or whether to make an appointment with a firm in another town, where he had no connections and would simply be a stranger seeking advice.
Despite the intense feelings of humiliation that dominated so much of his life these days he chose the man he knew and respected, knowing that whatever was discussed would remain confidential. This was why one morning towards the end of March he sat in the office of Jack, one of the senior partners. They had gone through the normal enquiries about family and health.
‘So, how can I help?’
Tom guessed the solicitor was approaching fifty and although he wouldn’t count him as a friend, he had always enjoyed the older man’s company at the various charity events which they had attended. Tom was someone who held his head up and looked people in the eye when he spoke, but he answered by talking to the hands resting in his lap.
‘It’s extremely difficult for me to explain what has been happening.’
Jack knew better than to interject with comments along the lines of, ‘I’ve heard all sorts of things in here’, or a similar bland statement, and remained silent.
‘Gemma’s been beating me up. We’ve been married for nine years. She’s always had a temper, but over the last two years she’s increasingly lost control of it. The first incident was a slap across the face because I was late for dinner. She apologised straight away and I made no more of it, though it shook me a lot. The next time something happened she threw a cup, which hit me on the back of the head, but did no physical damage.
‘The violence seemed to ... creep along ... becoming worse almost without me realising. Each time the item thrown was that bit heavier, or it was hurled with greater force, always when I wasn’t expecting anything. Shortly before Christmas she chased me up the stairs with a carving knife. I had to lock myself in the bathroom. After a while I was worried that Amy might be in danger, so rang the police.’
Tom stopped and looked up. Jack felt he could speak.
‘What happened?’
‘I ended up in a cell at the local station. They thought it was me who was violent, but they released me without charge. I want to know what my options are.’
‘I need to understand a lot more before I can advise you. Have you ever confided in anyone about this abuse, to a friend or family member?’
‘No one.’
‘Mmm. So even your own doctor doesn’t know and isn’t treating you for depression or any other condition, such as stress or anxiety, which could be related to this situation in the home?’
Tom shook his head.
‘Have you ever ended up requiring medical attention because of an attack or had to take time off work?’
‘I’ve had to go to the local casualty department on several occasions, but I always made out it was an accident in the house, or an injury from a game.’
‘That’s a pity, although there’ll at least be medical records of the treatment. I would suggest that you confide in a trusted friend and get them to take photographs of your injuries soon after they’ve occurred. Maintain a log of events in a spare diary and for goodness sake make sure you keep it somewhere secret. Use it to outline what happened, with as much detail as possible to support the visual evidence. Do you think your neighbours might have overheard any of these attacks taking place?’
‘No, we’re a bit too far from anyone for that.’
‘What about Amy? Is she aware of what’s going on?’
‘I didn’t think so, but I’m beginning to worry that she might know a lot more than I had realised. We had a social worker and police officer to the house a short while after I had been detained at the station. Amy was their main concern as well.’
‘Does Gemma work?’
‘She’s a teacher.’
‘Would you say she’s a good mother?’
Tom thought about this for a while. In truth, he couldn’t say she wasn’t.
‘Your options aren’t great. You could leave the house and pay maintenance and you would probably get regular access unless your wife convinced the court that you were a danger to her or your daughter. That scenario wouldn’t be a good one. You could try to win custody of Amy, but that would be a difficult road indeed to tread.
‘Firstly, you would have to recount in front of others what has been happening to you in private, which wouldn’t be easy. I can make a bit of a guess as to how much courage it’s taken you to come and talk to me today, with just the two of us. Then you would have to convince the judge that Gemma was a bad mother and, by your own admission, she isn’t.
‘It would be almost impossible to get her out of the house, which means that you and your daughter would have to leave and someone would have to look after her when you’re at work. Unfortunately, the practicalities work against you. The judge will consider the welfare of the child above everything else and my call would be that he would let them stay in the home and you would get restricted access at agreed times.
‘Although these days we’re all meant to be equal under the eyes of the law, I’m afraid old ideas and prejudices retain a strong influence in many situations, and this is likely to be one of them.’
Tom was crestfallen.
‘What do you suggest?’
‘If you want my honest opinion, and that’s what you’ll get anyway, I would stay clear of the courts and recommend that you start by getting some emotional support for yourself. At least tell your doctor what’s been happening. And, if you can, go along to one of the organisations that provide specialist guidance to couples when their marriage is going through difficulties. There are a lot of very good ones around.’
‘That’s what the police officer advised.’
‘Did you put the idea to Gemma?’
‘Yes.’
‘What happened?’
‘She split my head with a pan and I ended up in casualty.’
‘Bloody hell, Tom! What did you say at the hospital?’
‘That I’d hit my head on a cupboard door.’
‘I don’t know how else to advice you at the moment,’ said Jack looking at his watch.
‘Sorry. I’ve kept you too long.’
‘Bugger the time. Come on. There’s a first class restaurant around the corner. I’ll stand you lunch.’