While our soldiers are out in the Gulf, their families are left behind facing an uncertain future. Women's Editor Christen Pears finds out how one Army wife is coping.

IN the corner of Hayley Kimsey's living room, the television is turned on, and images of the war in Iraq flicker across the screen. For Hayley, whose husband, Russ, is serving with the Army in the Gulf, it's tempting to scan all the news bulletins, hoping to glean any information about his whereabouts. But it's tortuous at the same time.

"I know I shouldn't watch but I just can't help it," she says a little sheepishly as she turns down the sound.

Russ is a corporal in 1st The Queen's Dragoon Guards, based at Catterick Garrison. Four weeks ago he flew out to Iraq, leaving Hayley at home with the couple's four children: Jessica, seven; Kiel, five; Charis, three and Teya, who's just 12 weeks.

Like all Army wives, Hayley has become used to Russ going away for extended periods. Since he was posted to Catterick last summer, he has been in Canada for six weeks, as well as on various training courses and exercises in the UK. This time, however, it's different.

"You know it's dangerous, you know what could happen but you just have to get on with it. I'm lucky because I've got the kids and they keep me busy," she says.

Teya is having her bottle and Charis is running in and out of the house, playing with her friends. The older two come back from school and, within a few minutes Jessica is off to Brownies. They're like any normal youngsters, but they do know what their dad is doing. The couple believe it's important that they understand why Russ is away and, before he left, he sat down with them and explained what was happening.

"He told them that Daddy had to go far away, where there is lots of sand and lots of camels, to sort out a bad man," Hayley says.

"When he went to get on the bus to go, it was nine o'clock at night but we kept them up so they could see him off. We wanted them to know this was something different, that he wasn't just going off to work."

She's hoping that he'll be back by August, in time for Kiel's birthday, but she's made no promises. "You can't pretend to them. They have to know the truth."

Jessica, who's the oldest, was hit hardest, crying and saying she missed her dad. She did, however, get the chance to send him a message via the garrison's Gulf Radio. "I've no idea whether he heard it but it was for her as much as him because she knew she'd done something," says Hayley.

Russ was one of the last in his regiment to go and Hayley says she's grateful for the extra few weeks they had together.

"We knew it was going to happen at some point. Every time he came back from work I was wondering whether he'd tell me he had to go but we didn't talk about it until we knew for definite."

But although she has tried to put it out of her mind, she knows the risks. Before Russ left, they discussed what she would do if anything happened to him, whether he wanted to be buried or cremated.

"You don't want to think about it but you have to. Every day you wake up at the moment, it seems like someone else has been killed. You just hope he's not one of them."

During the first few days, she had two phone calls and a letter, but she's had no contact for almost two weeks. She knows he's safe from the weekly reports from the Army but she can't relax.

"I know I would be the first to be told if something had happened but you just can't help worrying. If he could just ring to let me know he's fine, it would be okay, I would feel better. But not knowing where he is or what he's doing is awful. You don't know whether they're on the front line or the back or whether they've witnessed anything.

"I feel sick all the time. It's like when you're nervous about something and you have butterflies in your stomach. It's there constantly. I've spoken to other wives and they say they feel the same. You don't want to eat because you feel so sick. I think there are a lot of us who are surviving on coffee and cigarettes at the moment.

"If you think about it, where they are and what they're going through, it just makes it worse. You have try and put it out of your mind and concentrate on other things but it's really hard."

In their immaculately tidy living room, there are photographs of Russ everywhere, pictures of Russ and Hayley's wedding, Russ with the children. But as soon as he left, she put away all of his clothes. She didn't want to be reminded that he'd gone, didn't want to see his dressing gown hanging up in the bedroom.

One of the hardest things for the couple is the fact he will miss Teya's first few months. They bought a camcorder before he left so Hayley can record the landmarks of her growing up - saying her first words or starting to crawl.

'They change so much in that time and I hate the thought he won't be there to see it. That's one of the worst things for me and for him too," says Hayley.

With Hayley's family in South Devon and Russ's in Bristol, she doesn't see them regularly but she's never alone.

While we're talking, Simon Thomas, one of the Army welfare officers calls in. The easygoing Welsh NCO is one of two working at the Families Office. He's been in the job a year and has seen a huge increase in the volume of his work since the build-up to war started.

He says: "For the last year or so, we've been doing general welfare work, giving people general information about things like housing. Now we're doing anything and everything." And, proving his point, he offers to feed Teya while Hayley deals with a crying Charis.

"We try and help out whenever we can. Sometimes someone wants help with a financial problem or they need a lift somewhere. A lot just want a cup of tea and a bit of reassurance. Basically, if we keep the wives happy, we know the boys will be happy because that's what they're all worried about."

Usually a coffee morning organised by the Families Office will attract ten to 15 people but recently, there have been about 60. Simon says: "There's usually a bit of stigma attached to coffee mornings - whingeing wives and all that - but I think people have realised that they need the support and that there are lots of other people who are going through the same thing."

Hayley adds: "Everyone really has pulled together - basically because we're all in the same boat. My friends are over every day and my next door neighbour has been brilliant. I'm not sure how we'd all cope otherwise."

The Families Office organised a Mother's Day lunch at the weekend and although Hayley says she enjoyed the get together, she says it made her miss Russ more than usual.

"He left a Mother's Day card for me and told me not to go out on Saturday because there will be some flowers delivered, but in some ways it makes it harder because it just reminds me he's not there. At a time like that, you just want the whole family to be together but, at the end of the day, there's nothing we can do about it. We are just going to have to sit and wait."

01/04/2003