By the time Derek and I married, he’d already started hitting me.
We’d met five years before, when I was just 16, and he was charming at first, sending flowers and chocolates, and sweeping me off my feet. But very quickly, he became controlling.
I thought if I could only try hard enough, I could ‘fix’ him, but of course, I couldn’t. Instead, as the years went by, the violence escalated. I often had to ring in sick due to my injuries, which led to a warning about my attendance. But I felt ashamed of what I was going through, and went to pains to hide it.
I learned to tell the most phenomenal lies and excuses: "I walked into the door, I fell down the stairs, the dog head-butted me". I knew my friends and colleagues didn’t really believe me, but in that situation, people often don’t have the courage to ask any more questions. When I said, "I’m OK, everything’s fine," the conversation ended there.
Things finally came to a head when, after 11 years with Derek, I ended up in hospital and the nurses called my manager in.
When my manager was saw my injuries, he was stunned, and at first didn’t know what to do. But then he contacted the HR department and when I returned to work, a woman from the HR team drove up from London, handed me her business card and said: "I know you don’t want to listen right now, but when you’re ready, and you want to leave, we can help you."
At last, I knew I could get help if I just reached out and took it. It was still a few weeks before I found the courage to call but when I did, they were incredible, arranging a transfer from my job in Edinburgh to a branch in London, over 400 miles away.
Having this support as I rebuilt my life meant the world to me. I arrived in London carrying just one small holdall. The one thing I had to hold onto, giving me hope, was my new job.
My employer also arranged for me to see a solicitor, so I could start divorce proceedings, and gave me time off to sort out my financial affairs and living arrangements.
They even told the staff at my old branch that I’d left my job all together, so when Derek inevitably came to look for me, they couldn’t tell him where I’d gone.
Sadly, I couldn’t turn to my family for help, which can be the case for a lot of women and men who are experiencing domestic abuse.
That’s one of the reasons it’s so important for colleagues to understand the signs, and reach out a helping hand if they can.
Saying, "I know you might be having a hard time at the moment, but I’m here if you need me" could be what it takes.
People are often afraid to offer this kind of help. They think they have to be an expert, or to get very involved to make a difference. But just putting the number of a domestic abuse helpline on a notice board could be enough.
When you reach out like this, you give a person suffering abuse a light at the end of the tunnel. You could be the lifeline someone is waiting for – and you might even save their life.
The retail industry against domestic abuse campaign has been launched by the Retail Trust , a charity that supports the more than three million people working in retail in the UK – one of the country’s largest employers – and the Domestic Abuse Alliance.
Homewares brand Dunelm is among retailers to have signed up to the campaign so far by pledging to train all its managers on domestic abuse awareness. Businesses are also being urged to create a domestic abuse policy and join the Employers’ Initiative on Domestic Abuse, which provides free resources to aid employers.
