Claire, 49, had to escape her violent relationship
WORDS: CHELSEA HEATLEY, SARAH WHITELEY
Singing Fleetwood Mac’s Dreams into the mic, I smiled over at my partner Justin, then 39, as he strummed his guitar. It was April 2010 and performing on stage at our local pub was one of our favourite pastimes.
We’d always been musical. I was 16 when we met, working at the pizza restaurant where Justin, then 19, was manager. We both loved rock ’n’ roll, and those early days were full of music, laughter and love.
After our daughter Hannah* came along in 1996, and our son Jack* 16 months later, life got busy. Justin and I hardly spent any time together as he cared for his terminally-ill dad and I raised the kids while holding down a teaching job. And when I did see him, he was snappy.
But now, in 2010, with the kids older and Justin’s dad no longer with us, Justin and I had more time together, doing things we loved – singing, dancing and laughing like teenagers again. We started performing as a two-piece at local venues most weekends.
Only, soon it stopped being so fun. While Justin loved our new bustling social calendar and joining our rapturous friends for a drink after a show, he didn’t like me going out without him.
‘Where are you off to looking like a sl*g?’ Justin spat one day in January 2011 as I got ready to meet a friend. He’d always had a bit of a temper but he never usually spoke that sharply. My skirt wasn’t that short, but I hated arguing so I told him I’d change. But weeks later, I was heading out to a charity music event with Jack, then 15, when Justin blocked the front door.
‘You’re not going,’ he barked. Marching past me to the kitchen, he grabbed the empty plastic laundry basket, shoved it under the kitchen tap and started filling it with water. I looked on, confused, before he lunged forward, tipping it over me, soaking me from head to toe.
‘What are you doing?’ I cried, but he was silent as he then grabbed a bag of flour and threw it over my head.
‘Stop it, Dad!’ Jack yelled. I could tell he was as frightened as I was. Justin stormed out of the room as I comforted Jack. Then scurrying upstairs, I showered, wondering what I’d done so wrong.
That night, I slept in the spare bedroom. It felt so surreal – I couldn’t believe the man I loved had just done that to me, and in front of our son.
LIVING IN FEAR
The next day, Justin apologised. ‘I don’t know what came over me,’ he said. I’d
