I took no pleasure strangely from knowing that Tony was in custody. I felt fractionally safer obviously but that was it. I'm sure prison isn't a particularly nice place, but it certainly isn't like the reality that suddenly began to unfold for me.
Amongst hospital visits and hanging around the police station on that Sunday I had to see my children. The strangest thing about the whole situation was that my then barely three year old asked straight away on seeing my bruises if her Dad had done it. Both my children wanted to care for me, to make me better and wanted to know why, how Daddy could do this to Mummy when he had told them that he loved Mummy. There simply are no explanations.
It took in total 3 hours just to give my statment and for the police to take the required photographs. By the time we eventually arrived back at my brothers it was gone 10 o'clock at night a whole twelve plus hours gone never to be recovered and all because of Tony.
I didn't want to but I wasn't allowed to go home, couldn't be left alone. I had to be woken every 3 - 4 hours to make sure there was no lasting damage! Clearly they are just referring to the physical effects.
The following day I thought I would take it easy, maybe have a bath try and soak away some of the aches and pains. Hopefully my Dad would come and get me so I could spend some time with my children. The police phoned, they needed yet more details and further photos. It had to be done straight away as they were running out of time in which to continue holding Tony without a charge. More photos were taken an additional statement was given.
I received a phone call later that evening. Tony had been charged. Police had apparently pushed for attempted murder, the CPS however had downgraded the charge to a s.47 assault and threats to kill.
Attempted Murder. Strong words, was it really that bad? Had he really intended to kill me. Then the reality of the assault hit home. Tony wanted to and had tried to kill me. With all the comings and goings and the practicalities that had to be taken care of I had pushed the memory of the assault from my mind and had even started making jokes about it.
I havent mentioned my Mum yet. As a Mother I cannot comprehend how I would begin to deal with either of my children standing in front of me in the state I was in. My Mum is my rock, ever the practical one, always the leveller and calmer. As she was caring for my children her face didn't react, her eyes did. I have never seen such sadness or despair in anyones eyes. I recalled all the lies that I had told to cover Tony's actions all the times I'd avoided seeing my Mum so I didnt have to lie, looking in her eyes I knew that I had to see it through to the bitter end as she wouldnt survive seeing me like this again.
My Mum was also the person that cleaned the scene. She was the one that wiped her daughters blood off walls and doors and had to strip a bed that had gone from white to mainly red.