SPECIAL INVESTIGATION: First step to life of freedom

INSIDE the refuge is a sophisticated system of door locks, intercoms, panic buttons, surveillance screens that monitor the entrances, and the alarm system that would trigger if any of them were breached.

These are normally the tools of confinement but here, they represent liberation. The women who come here are breaking free from domestic violence, and while this may be a restricted space, it opens up limitless possibilities.

For some women, that’s exactly how it works. Once safely behind the fortified door, they never look back and never go back.

For others, the experience is not so dramatic. The refuge is a temporary respite from one of the more intense episodes of abuse and they’ll head home once they feel the storm has abated.

“Every case is individual,” says manager, Geraldine Mullane.

“We advertise our service as short-term crisis accommodation but we don’t define it more than that.

“It’s about a process. For some women, coming here is nearly the end of the process because she’s been making plans to leave her partner for some time.

“For others, it’s still a very early stage in the process. She might be an emergency admission in the middle of the night and have no bigger plan than just getting away to somewhere safe.”

At the refuge, safety is paramount, so it might come as a surprise that this one, Cuan Saor, one of 20 in the country, is on a busy shopping street in Clonmel, Co Tipperary, rather than hidden away in some remote location.

“There’s certainly no secret about us. It’s very likely that at any one time, somebody is watching the building.

“There’s a pub across the road and if you sit inside the window, you have a great view of our front door.

“But there is safety in being so central. The Garda station is around the corner and there is CCTV on this street. You’re not isolated. If somebody kicks off at the door, they are not going to stay there very long or they’re going to become very obvious to people.

“It also means the women are close to shops, doctors, schools, the community welfare office, the library — everyday things — so it keeps some bit of normality for them.”

At Cuan Saor, they don’t underestimate the importance of normality, particularly when children are involved.

There used to be bedrooms with shared kitchen, laundry and living space, but they have been converted to four self-contained apartments so the women have privacy and independence and can cook, clean and relax on their own schedule.

They can come and go as they please, although they must check in and out with staff for safety, and while there is a 10pm curfew, exemptions apply for genuine reasons.

Large families can be accommodated as three of the four apartments have two bedrooms and there is any number of beds, bunks, sofa beds, and cots that can be put into use if needed.

The high-walled back garden is a sanctuary in itself and the indoor playroom is a joyful mix of toys, activity space, art, and self-affirming posters.

Some female visitors are allowed, usually grandmothers or other close relatives, but only in a communal area away from the apartments.

The only men let in are tradesmen, known representatives of the St Vincent de Paul and other charities that support the refuge and the occasional father of a victim.

Partners of the women do not get past the door. No exceptions.

The cost of staying is €5 per night or €30 per week, but nobody is turned away.

Still, it won’t suit every woman to stay here. The refuge can’t take pets for example.

“We had a hamster for a while once, a child got it for Christmas, but we’re not set up for animals. That is an issue. It stops some women leaving because he’ll take it out on their pet. How do you get around that?”

Another issue that can arise is what to do about older male children. The refuge can’t take boys once they reach the age of 18, but mothers fear leaving a son behind.

But the main reason the refuge doesn’t take in every woman who approaches is that it simply can’t cope with the demand.

The refuge accommodated 78 women and 91 children last year, but it had a total of 401 women using its services which include outreach clinics, court accompaniment, advice, workshops and child supports.

Most were at some stage in the process of ending an abusive relationship and the refuge would like to think it could be the safety net for them all if accommodation became a requirement.

“We are in touch a lot with other refuges and we’ll arrange for a woman to go elsewhere if we can’t get her in here, but we’ll also get her back here as soon as we have space because it’s important for continuity that she’s close to her local services and doesn’t have to tell her story over and over again.”

It’s a delicate balancing act. Some women will plan their escape carefully, gradually squirrelling away passports, birth certificates, and legal and welfare documents at the refuge where they are held for safe-keeping, before finally making the break.

“They’ll say, ‘I’ll be ready to come on Friday’, and you’re trying to work it that you have a place for them and hoping there isn’t an emergency in the meantime.”

Emergencies are usually signalled by a call from the gardaí, a GP, or emergency department & staff who have a woman in their care. “We’ll go to her and see is she going to come here but she might say she’s not ready but if you could just bring her a packet of cigarettes, you’d be a life-saver.

“So we’ll get her a packet of cigarettes — whatever it is that will get her through the night. But at least we’ll have made contact and she knows now who we are and where we are when she does want to come to us.”

The service at the refuge, however, is far more comprehensive than nicotine craving control. Once admitted, the women will have a needs assessment carried out, be helped get her social welfare entitlements and supported through any courts process.

Crucially, she will also be assisted to find longer-term accommodation, a huge challenge at a time when social and voluntary housing stocks are under enormous strain.

This refuge is also developing systems to work with women with drink or drug problems so that they don’t have to be turned away as they may be at other refuges that lack the necessary resources and expertise.

Where children accompany a woman, or she discloses dangers to children left at home, the staff must contact a social worker, a requirement under the Children First guidelines.

That may make mothers nervous but child support worker Mary Barry is quick with reassurance.

“Everybody has this idea that the social workers will take your kids but let’s be clear — she is not the perpetrator here. She is actually making her children safe by coming to the refuge. It’s actually really positive.

“She’ll see what we put in the referral before it goes and when the social worker comes here, we’ll sit in on the meeting if she wants and you will always be looking at her positives and strengths.

“All the research says kids are affected by domestic violence. Even if they’re asleep and don’t actually see anything, they see the aftermath.

“They see the damage, they know if mam and dad aren’t talking. Even if it’s only verbal abuse, they do pick up on that. Kids are like sponges, they take everything in.”

One to one support and group sessions are available for the children as well as play therapy and art therapy, although the latter depend on time donated by final year students in the field as the private cost is prohibitive.

Social work students also provide valuable support to the court accompaniment programme.

With the equivalent of just 10.4 full-time staff to run a 24-hour refuge and helpline, outreach clinics, training programmes, advice and information and all the child-related services, the refuge could not survive without voluntary labour.

It also requires financial donations as it was state-funded for 80%-85% of its needs last year, but has advance warning of cuts to come later this year. The staff took a 12.5% pay cut last year and night shifts are now covered by staff who sleep over rather than dedicated night workers.

Given the highly skilled, demanding and sometimes emotionally draining nature of the work, and the instances where men have vandalised staff cars, it bothers the manager and board of the refuge that the workers’ salaries cannot be protected.

“But it’s great to hear a woman say how good it is to have peace here, to have no one shouting and roaring at her,” says Geraldine.

“You would hope that once they feel that, they get an idea of what it would be like to be away from the abuse permanently and we can start working with them towards that.”

They are realistic about the task, however.

“We provide a great place here but when women move away physically from an abusive relationship, that’s only part of it.

“They generally still love their partners. And he’s going to be nice to them sometimes so they’ll crave that part of the relationship.

“It’s actually a question we would ask — do you love him — because we accept there are emotional ties. Breaking those ties can be just as hard as physically walking away.”