What price friendship?

We were delighted when our friend told us that she'd finally split from her boyfriend. When we first met him he seemed great - he was the life and soul of the party and loved a laugh. We spent some mad nights out together, drinking and generally having a blast. When it became evident that it wasn't all it seemed, however, things changed. It transpired that the happy facade masked a bitter, abusive man. He was in debt to the tune of thousands of pounds and spent his evenings coaching our friend through loan application after loan application, as his own credit rating was stretched beyond repair. Nothing was ever good enough for him, and there was an altogether darker side that only came to light when she left him the first time. She spent that weekend in my flat, crying and telling horror stories about how life was with him. By the Sunday afternoon she had secured a place in a women's refuge and had organised emergency school transport for her fourteen year old son. Sadly it was the same old story, and by Monday evening she was back at home with him, "making a go of it". At this point we began to draw away from the situation but it was hard. I've known her for over ten years. She took me in when a relationship of mine ended. We've spent many nights in each other's company and I consider her a close friend of mine. But where is the line drawn? At what point do you leave someone to their own devices? Once you've exhausted every line of reasoning? Once you're convinced that they simply won't, or can't, listen to the truth? And is that your truth or the objective truth? In this case she eventually found the strength to leave. Admittedly the catalyst was a beating which culminated in him stamping on her ribs with a booted foot, before spitting in her face and heading off for a restful night's sleep. So she packed a bag and finally got out. The negotiations since then have been protracted and have occasionally involved myself of the Other Half - me in the role of shoulder to cry on and him in the role of six-foot taker-of-no-shit in an abortive attempt to recover some of her belongings from their shared flat. As things stand currently he has no idea where she lives, although he shows up in her local pub every so often. She is working two jobs and is comforted by the knowledge that her son is forging a new and stable life with her parents. They are in regular contact and she is hopeful for his future, and for their future relationship. Her abusive relationship will, hopefully, be consigned to that ever-growing pile we all tuck away and label "experience". It wasn't her first violent relationship - she escaped to a refuge when her son was small after his father became increasingly unstable and the beatings became ever more frequent and vicious. But I hope it will be her last, and I thought that finally she could find some peace. With all this in mind, we were cautiously pleased to hear on Friday night that she's met someone new. He's lovely, we're assured. Genuinely a happy, caring person, with no sign of a violent or bitter streak. She's sure we'll love him when we meet him and she thinks he might be "the one".

Except we won't be meeting him any time soon as he's currently on the run, having broken the parole conditions that granted him early release from a seven year sentence for murder. So I'll ask you again: at what point do you give up on someone and entrust them to their fate?

In other news, Small Person had an eye test today and did so well that she won a brand-new pair of funky pink glasses. She is desperately excited and can't wait to get them next weekend. Her father was quick to point out that my defective genes are to blame but I contented myself with the knowledge that at least she's also inherited my intelligence, sense of humour and the ability to tell when she needs a wash.