by Rita Harling
Brian didn’t get on with one of Seamus’ brothers. I am not sure why. Maybe it was because the brother did not agree with the business arrangement that Brian and Seamus had together. I know that the brother didn’t like Brian either. Seamus’ brother was not as placid as Seamus was. If Brian was ever in the same company as him there would be a tense atmosphere and taunting looks between the pair.
Sadly that year Seamus passed away. He had been out with his wife and son, driving around looking for copper. He got out of his van on a building site and went to investigate the yard. To his wife and child’s horror a very large cement-block wall collapsed and crushed him. I believe that his wife and child ran to his side. His last words to her were of love and concern. He asked her to take the child away as he did not want his son to see his father die like that. He then took his last breath and sadly passed away.
A year later, on Seamus’ anniversary, Brian and I were in bed. I was just dozing off to sleep when I heard an enormous crash. We both jumped out of bed. I was screaming as Conor was in the front bedroom that faced onto the main road. The noise seemed to be coming from that direction. We could hear banging and crashing of glass. When we opened the bedroom door, we could see the windows were all coming in. We had no idea what or who was smashing them. I ran to get Conor from his cot. To my absolute horror I found him in the cot screaming with glass and rocks around him. Thank God Conor was not injured. It is a miracle that he didn’t get any cuts, especially with the amount of glass and rocks in his cot.
Brian ran out of the house to see what had happened. He got dressed and went out in the car to see if he could catch up with the perpetrators on the road. He managed to catch them, only to discover that it was Seamus’ brother. He had been out drinking, drowning his sorrows on Seamus’ anniversay Obviously his hatred for Brian was still festering, and he had taken that hate out by breaking every window at the front of the cottage that night.
We stayed awake for the remainder of the night. Brian tried to patch up the windows, but it was no use. We called a glazier the next morning to repair the windows. Before they were repaired, Brian went to the halting site where the family lived and returned with Seamus’ parents. He wanted to show them what their son had done. Brian demanded payment for the damage. The parents argued that they were not happy about that. I brought the mother to the window at the front of the house and told her to look inside. She was horrified when she saw the cot. She apologised for what her son had done. They both feared retaliation over the attack on our home. It never happened — at least I don’t think so. Things settled down and I heard no more about it. I didn’t see any of Seamus’ family again after that night. Life at Mitchelstown Cottage was getting extremely dangerous. Brian’s notoriety was increasing, for all the wrong reasons.
Time went on and Brian decided to build a shed at the back of the house. The man that was building it was terribly nice and quiet, and it was good to have his company every day. George was his name. While George was there doing the work, I was happy, as it was keeping Brian away from me. I was sorry when he finished the shed, as I knew the abuse would start again.
Brian had started bringing Joey home with him each day after they had finished the milk round. Joey was a nice kid. I was very fond of him. He was with Brian a lot. Joey had also been helping Brian and George to build the shed. I was worried though. Brian was not a good role model and I felt he was a bad influence on Joey. I didn’t want Joey to become one of Brian’s sidekicks. Unfortunately Brian would eventually use Joey as his lackey.
Joey had lived in Ballymun in his younger years until his family moved to Blakestown. He was one of five children. Joey had witnessed violence early on in his young life at the hands of his mam’s ex-partner. The violence was not only used on his mam, but also on Joey. I think that this violence led to Joey’s troubled teenage years. Sometimes he could be an angry young man, but most of the time he was loving and affectionate. He was never afraid to give me a hug or to be affectionate with the kids. Later on when he gradually moved into our lives, and was living with us on a permanent basis, I noticed how childish he could sometimes be. Joey was not the big man that he thought he was when he was around Brian. He was very impressionable and wanted to please people.
I think Joey thought Brian was invincible. The poor lad soon discovered that Brian was not invincible — he just didn’t care about the consequences of his actions. He loved to be cared for, and was like a child when you made a fuss of him. I would often throw the duvet over him if he had fallen asleep on the couch, and he was happy that you cared enough to do that for him. When I look back I realise that Joey and I had both lost our fathers at a young age. We were both vulnerable. I think Brian preyed on our vulnerability. If either of our father’s had been alive Brian would not have got away with what he did to us.
I was still attending the hospital for regular check-ups for my gallbladder. The doctors had told me that I may need more surgery to have my gallbladder removed. I had been in excruciating pain. The doctor told me that there could be numerous gallstones. He said that it was not uncommon for a woman who has previously had a hysterectomy to find that she also needs to have her gallbladder removed. There is a wall of muscle that divides these two organs and once one of them has been removed the other one weakens, causing problems for the patient and necessitating further surgery. The thought of going back to hospital didn’t appeal to me, but I was in so much pain I knew it was inevitable.
I had another appointment that week in St Vincent’s. However, during that week Brian was abusive again. On one occasion he threw the microwave out the patio door — it smashed into pieces on the ground. I was clearing it up when my brother Joe arrived to visit. When Joe saw what had happened he immediately wanted to go into the house and confront Brian, but I wouldn’t let him. I knew too well that Brian would try to have Joe done for trespassing and assault. Joe was trying to protect me, but I knew at the time that if he went in and confronted Brian it would only make things worse.
I decided to leave Brian that week. My sister came to the house and gathered my belongings and some of the kids’ things. We went and stayed in Mary’s house. The following morning, Mary accompanied me to the hospital for my appointment. We were sitting in the waiting area when Brian came through the door, hurling abuse at us. I was mortified. He demanded to know were his son was. We told him that Mary’s daughter, Emma, was minding him. He left. I saw the doctor and he gave me the date of my operation.
On the way home Emma called. She was hysterical on the phone. Brian was at her house and was trying to break in. Mary alerted a neighbour, and the gardaí came. Brian was cautioned and left. Again he was getting off lightly. I, on the other hand, was worried about what he might do to my sister and her family. I was so worried about their safety and getting them involved in my problems that I returned to Mitchelstown Cottage that night, much to my sister’s dismay. Mary had pleaded with me not to, but I didn’t want to put her through any further hassle or harassment from Brian. I felt so bad that both Emma and Mary had been affected by Brian and his violent outbursts.
I had settled back in at the cottage and was trying to bring some normality to my life. That wasn’t easy while living with Brian. I knew that life would never be normal as long as I stayed there with him. At the time I was just trying to survive and keep my family together, which meant keeping my head down and tyring to not get Brian annoyed. Brian continued to steal and he continued to attract a number of undesirables. I do not know where or how Brian managed to get to know these people.
Joey was also still hanging around too much and I worried about him. He was a good kid but he was young and he appeared to really want to please Brian. It seemed like he craved a father figure. Unfortunately, he picked someone who only cared about himself to fill that role. Brian would shape and mould Joey into what he wanted him to be, as he had done to me. Joey would soon be under Brian’s control, and once Brian had him, there would be no getting away without a fight. Brian
would ruin this young man’s life. Forever. Brian was a control freak who used violence to empower himself. Poor Joey was soon going to discover that.
On another occasion, I had been out in the car with Brian. When we got back to the house and the car had come to a stop in the driveway, Brian got out and opened the shed doors so that he could park the car inside. It was not unusual for him to do that, so I remained in the car until it had reached its final parking spot. When Brian had parked the car inside the shed, I got out but before I could head for the cottage, Brian locked the front and side doors of the shed. He then took a plank of wood and began to beat me with it. I was crying and begging him to stop and tried to take cover behind whatever I could. At some stage I must have cried out my father’s name. Brian responded by yelling: ‘There’s no use calling your Da now He can’t help ya!’
The beating went on for about twenty minutes, until Brian had eventually pleasured himself enough by controlling me, and gave up. He then went into the cottage to watch television as if nothing had happened. I stayed in the shed, crying and trying to understand what had just occurred. I went into the kitchen and made a cup of tea to try to calm myself, while drawing hard on a cigarette. I was shaking violently and I inspected my body for bruises. I didn’t call the police, as I did not see the point. I didn’t think they would come, because they hadn’t come before when I called them. This random act of violence was not unusual for Brian.
No matter how many times Brian attacked me or whatever pain he had put me through I never understood why he did it. My body had been through enough due to bad health and it was now taking a battering from him. This was a person that at one point I had loved, and I could not understand how on earth he could put me through this life of hell. I had had a sheltered childhood and I had never experienced any form of violence in my life. I really didn’t know what way to deal with it and I felt ashamed.
I was raised well by my parents. We were raised with values and morals. We were always taught that it was wrong to hurt anyone else. I went through my life looking for only the good in people. I couldn’t fathom how Brian could be so cruel to me. I will never understand how someone can do that to another human being. It scares me to think like that. What sick pleasure can anyone get from this behaviour? I used to try so hard to understand why Brian would torture me like this. I thought about other women that may be going through the same abuse and wondered how they were handling it. I had gone through life unharmed by any human being. My parents did not believe in using any form of violence towards us when we were growing up. My dad believed that it was better to sit with a child and explain to them what they had done wrong and what had resulted from their actions by pointing out the consequences. This is how I deal with my own children.
Even though I was still apprehensive about remaining in the relationship with Brian, I was also feeling apprehensive about the looming surgery. I was petrified and thought of little else. Past experiences haunted me and I worried about possible complications. I was admitted to St Vincent’s and underwent surgery to have my gallbladder removed. I stayed in hospital for three days. I had the operation by keyhole surgery, which meant that I had no open wounds this time, thankfully. It would make it easier for me to cope at home with Conor. He was heading for his first birthday, and not yet walking, which meant that I was still lifting and carrying him.
On the evening that I came home from hospital, my brother Joe arrived at the house to see me. We sat and chatted and Brian joined in. Later that evening Joe and Brian decided to go for a couple of pints in the local pub, Dolly Heffernan’s, which was about a quarter of a mile to the rear of the cottage. If Joe had known what was really going on with Brian, I have no doubt he wouldn’t have gone out for drinks with him. The night was closing in and there was no sign of them returning, so I decided to go to bed as I was tired and and still sore from the operation.
Later that night I woke up to find Brian standing over me, he was digging my arm with his fist, trying to wake me up. I sat up in the bed and asked him what was wrong. I gazed at the clock and saw that it was 4.00 a.m. Brian closed and locked the door. He told me to stand in the corner. I was still half asleep and confused. He again told me to stand in the corner. I refused and lay back down. Then he dragged me by the hair and pulled me from the bed, demanding that I stand in the corner. I knew what was about to happen. He launched into an attack and punched and kicked me so much that I grew too tired to fight him off. I was on the floor, curled up in the foetal position. He was above me kicking and digging my delicate body. I was crying and begging him to stop, but he wouldn’t. I was afraid that Robyn would hear and come to her mam’s aid and be the recipient of one of his blows.
He was like a madman. He lifted me up by the back of my neck and threw me onto the bed. Then he tried to strangle me. I could feel my airways blocked and my face was filled with blood from the pressure. My eyes were bulging from their sockets. Then he let go, leaving me gasping for air.
After he released me, Brian calmly undressed and got into bed. I fled the room. I sat on the sofa for hours, crying, not knowing what to do. I checked on the kids and they were fine. I thought: why had he done that? What will I do? If I call the gardaí, will they come? If I call them, what will he do? All of these questions went through my mind until I convinced myself not to call them. I should have, but I didn’t. I was too afraid. I should have been stronger, but I was too weak to fight and my heart was hurting. I was still exhausted from being in hospital and was recovering from the operation. I knew that someday I would leave Brian and Mitchelstown Cottage, but I would need a plan. I would need to have a place to escape to. I would need some money of my own and I would have to find somewhere safe to stay.
I later found out from my brother Joe that he had left Brian at around midnight that night. I guessed that Brian had gone offside afterwards to score some type of drug before he came home and attacked me.
My family was unaware of the extent of Brian’s behaviour. I kept a lot hidden from them. In some ways I was ashamed that I had chosen him as a partner. I especially kept a lot hidden from my brother as I was afraid that he would intervene on my behalf. I did not want him to get himself into trouble because of me and because of my choices. I knew that Joe would have done his utmost to help me if he had known the full extent of Brian’s brutality. As time went on, it became more obvious to people what was going on in our relationship. Things changed and people began to get angry when they realised what Brian was doing to me. My brother tried to help, and I know that some of his friends had threatened Brian and told him to keep his hands off me. Threats did not bother Brian and he still carried on attacking me.
I had never before witnessed or experienced the disrespect and violence that I received from Brian. I had never heard my father raise his voice to my mother. Any male figures in my life had always been respectfull and honourable. I was so shocked that I did not know how to react, or, more importantly, how to deal with it.
At the beginning of our relationship my family liked Brian to a degree. Although, maybe they were just saying that because I seemed happy. Joe said that he liked him in the beginning, but as time went on all their views changed. Mary despised him, and to this day she cannot even mention his name. She even finds it hard to have a conversation about him.
Months passed and I was still living in this hell. Brian took more and more pleasure in brutalising me and tormenting me in any way possible. He would lock me in the house and lock me out of the house. He’d take my mobile phone (sometimes smashing it), my house key, car keys, the house phone, even the kettle so I couldn’t make a cup of tea.
Brian even cut my clothes off one night as I got ready to meet my pals Karen and Martina for a drink. I had not seen them for sometime, and I would not let them visit me there. I had told them what Brian was up to, and didn’t want them coming to the cottage. I preferred to go out and meet them so that I didn’t have to worry about Brian coming back at any minute. They had seen the bald patches
on my head that Brian had left after yanking my hair out.
It was not very often that I got to see my friends. If I saw them once every six months I was lucky. If I told Brian that I had arranged to meet them, I always worried about what his reaction would be. He always caused a big fuss and commotion when I told him, so, often, it just didn’t seem worth it. He did not like the relationship that I had with my friends and I think that he thought that they posed some type of threat to him, plus he knew that they really disliked him.
I had arranged to meet Karen and Martina for drinks that evening. We were to meet at Karen’s house at 8.30 p.m. I was looking forward to catching up with them, hearing all the latest gossip and having a giggle. Brian was to babysit the kids while I went out, which was going to cause another problem. Brian didn’t like doing things because he had to, he only liked to do things because he wanted to.
That evening I got ready: I showered, dressed, blowdried my hair and applied my make-up. I was delighted to be going out, but I was also nervous. I was nervous of an argument erupting before I went out, and worried about a possible argument when I came home. As I got ready, Brian lay on the sofa watching TV He said nothing and his silence was really worrying me. I knew something was brewing. When I was ready I told him that I was going to call a cab and then I looked for my mobile phone, which I couldn’t find. Alarm bells rang in my head and I suspected that he had hidden it. When I told him that I couldn’t find it, and that I would have to use the house phone to call the cab, things spiralled out of control.
Brian marched from the livingroom to the kitchen and pulled the house phone from the wall socket. He wrapping the cord around the phone and shoved it into a press under the TV I didn’t dare try to retrieve it as I knew what the consequences would be. I just calmly sat on the sofa facing him and asked him why he was doing what he was doing. He had known for weeks in advance that I was going to meet my friends. I begged him to call me a cab, but he refused. It was nearly 9.00 p.m. and I knew that the girls would be wondering where I was. Then I heard the tone of my mobile phone ringing; it was coming from Brian’s direction. Realising that my intuition was right and that Brian had in fact taken my phone, I got annoyed and stood above him demanding that he give it back to me. I was getting frustrated because I knew that it was Karen calling, wondering where I was. I kept demanding that Brian give me back the phone so I could take Karen’s call. Brian jumped up from the sofa and growled at me that I was not going out. The violence started and he pushed and pulled me around the room.