As I walked in to the office for my first day at my new job as a refuge worker last Monday, a job I have thought about applying for many times over the ten years since leaving my abusive ex husband, I walked in excited at the prospect of how I could, and would potentially help the women living at the refuge. I have always had a picture in my mind of what a refuge would look like, what it would offer the women and children that sought its safety, and it has always been rosy.

Leaving after my first 8 hour shift, I felt somewhat deflated. Disenchanted by what we, as a society, offer these women. And thankful, no, way more than thankful, that I had parents that could take me and my children in, and help and support us in every way we needed. We were the lucky ones.

Don’t get me wrong, a woman should seek the safety of a refuge as soon as she can, the benefits of a refuge far outweigh the downsides. The actual space a refuge offers is far greater than I imagined. This particular refuge has one or two bedroom self contained flats, with a living area and galley kitchen, secure gardens, a communal living area for activities and chill out time, a children’s play room, and a room full of washing machines and driers. Staff are onsite from early morning till late evening with security bridging the gap and rules have to be signed by each resident when they check in, with the most important rule by far, keeping the address confidential at all times. The staff go way beyond their pay check to help and guide the women and their families, fighting the whole way to overcome the many obstacles they face.

But aside from the space, the safety, and the amazing staff who fight these women’s battles with constant emails and calls to relevant services, the Home Office, social services, children’s services, solicitors, housing officers, local councils, HMRC.. the list is endless… there isn’t much more we are offering these women that I believe we can be proud of.

For a start, the rent horrified me. Yep. Rent. You don’t stay in a refuge for free you know, not even if you’ve left with a bag of clothes and three kids. The rent, believe it or not, at this particular refuge, is over £350 per week, on top of which is a weekly service charge- somewhere in the region of £25

"Most refuges are Not For Profit, and so housing benefit funds each woman’s stay. If you’re lucky enough to be eligible for the full amount of housing benefit, that should pay the majority of the bill. But, if you’re a woman that wants to cling onto your job, you’re screwed. Your housing benefit will be a lot less and you may have to cough up the rest, or at least some of it. "

I was mortified to see that over three quarters of the women staying at the refuge were in arrears, some, up to £3500.

One woman lives in her flat with three children, she has no food in her cupboards. We give her bits and bobs from the dry store to tide her over until the food bank delivery on the following Monday, but it’s no where near enough to feed her and her three young children for a week. She hasn’t yet been granted any benefits, so she is completely penniless. She relies solely on donations, and occasional vouchers from children’s services.

The flats, although spacious, are almost empty. A bed and a wooden cupboard stand sadly in one of the bedrooms. And in what would be the front room, a single black two seater sofa sits up against the wall, the faux leather on the seat peeling badly, its worn and shabby. When you speak, it echoes, there’s no soft furnishings to soak up the sound. I imagine the woman who will come and occupy these bare rooms, sad and terrified from her journey to get here, cooped up behind these cold plain white bare walls, safe, but alone with her dark memories, wondering if the windows are safe, wondering if her abuser will find her, wondering what’s next. The flats are void of any warmth for their occupants. Just a lick of paint, a charity shop rug, a few paintings on the walls would no doubt be a welcome addition to these rooms. Other refugees may not be like this, I can’t profess to know, but something tells me this is probably the norm.

I have so many questions. Why is there such little funding to keep these places happy and welcome places for these women and children to live? It wouldn’t need much.

Why are these women being made to live in debt? How can a woman re clothe her children, save for her own new furniture, knives and forks, plates, cups, high chairs, if she is spending all her money on paying an extortionate rent? How can they get back on their feet with so much pitted against them? All the while, the perpetrator sits back in their family home, calling the shots, withholding money.

It’s an all too familiar story. Although I did not use a refuge, my ex stayed put in our three bedroom house, alone, while I bed shared with our three kids. He kept all our belongings, disposed of our passports and other documents- birth certificates, marriage certificates, driving licence… before I even thought about applying for benefits or legal aid I had to find the money to replace these much needed forms. When it did come to applying for legal aid, luckily that all went quite swimmingly, however, court proceedings take time, especially children’s matters. Two years after I left him, I had moved on into another relationship and we were living together. Still no support from the children’s father, and although I had applied for child maintenance through the CSA, they hadn’t so far managed to get a penny out of him, and due to my circumstances and moving on with my life my legal aid was withdrawn. Was I no longer considered a victim of domestic abuse? To add insult to injury, a true master of deception, he declared himself bankrupt, and despite still living in our £750k home, and running a business under the radar, he started getting legal aid.

I fought the man who had physically, mentally, emotionally and financially abused me and his children through court, racking up some £30k of debt in the process, whilst he played the system. Of course I won, there was too much evidence against him. But tell me, how is that fair? Through previous work with women who have been through the legal process with their abusive ex’s, this is not uncommon. I have watched women break down as they’ve told me how they were treated by the courts, stories of unfair treatment, their abusers using their public persona (which is always charismatic and butter wouldn’t melt) to manipulate and control the judges opinions.

I know each case is different, and there’s never an easy way to sort these domestics out, but there are many women that have not got a fair deal, and I count myself as one of them.

It’s had to result in a massive rise in cases of domestic violence and deaths since the Covid-19 lockdown for people to wake up and start thinking about how we need to help victims of domestic abuse in more ways than we already do. But it should have been done before!

Where were the free train tickets before? And if they were ‘a thing’ before, why wasn’t it common knowledge?

Why wasn’t there a ‘safe space’ in Boots stores before?

Why weren’t people angry about domestic abuse the way they are now?

Because it’s always brushed under the carpet. Always.