I didn't leave my house for a decade

'In the early years I tried leaving many times, but my husband would threaten to kill me and I was demoralised enough to believe him'

When my husband John died from double pneumonia at the age of 54, I was relieved. It felt like a paving slab had been lifted from my head. We'd been married for 30 years, and for the last 10 of those, I hadn't been outside our five-bedroom house in Northampton.

I left school at 15, which most people did in those days, and got a job as a waitress, which I loved. The cafe was next door to a cinema where John worked as a projectionist. I knew from the moment we met he was terribly insecure. He had ginger hair, walked with a limp and had been badly bullied as a child. But I hoped my love would change him. We got married when I was 19, and a year later I gave birth to our first baby. By 28, I was a mother of six.

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Tags: story