I EAVESDROP.

It's a dirty habit, I'm not ashamed.

In London last weekend and walking near Tower Bridge: a girl, crying, and a boy, grabbing at her arm to turn her to face him, bending so his eyes were level with hers.

Pointing at me: "See her? She's normal." Pointing to a couple nearby: "See them? They're normal."

To the girl: "We're not like them, we're not normal. Let me tell you about us."

I didn't need to listen any longer to know what came next: we're special, he would have told her. We're passionate, we argue because we love each other more than any of these dull, workaday people know how to love.

Oh, pet. Special is not sobbing, leaden-souled, in the Square Mile at 1am. Special is not whispering fables in a shiny girl's ear until she loses her sheen.

There was a young girl in Liberty on the phone to a friend, having a conversation I've had with friends a hundred times. "I don't know if he likes me. We were together and now he's ignoring me. Then he gets in touch and then ignores me again. It's like... I don't know, like, what to do."

Oh, pet. He's plastic-hearted, he's not for you. It's hard not to put a hand on these girls' arms and tell them, look, we've all been there; this is what happens next.

It seems so pointless to have had all this experience, of my own and of friends', and not be able to impart it to younger women, to give them half a chance of avoiding the heartache - or worse.

Clare's law has been rolled out across Scotland this week. Not a law, actually, but a scheme, it was fought for by Michael Brown, the father of Clare Wood who was murdered in 2009 by a man she had met online. She reported his behaviour to the police but it wasn't enough to prevent him entering her home, strangling her and setting fire to her body.

It is of great credit to Mr Brown that he has taken the hurt of his daughter's death and tried to use it to stop damage to other women.

But is it enough? To ask for information about a new partner means suspicion has already been aroused and if suspicion is aroused then really, in their heart, the girlfriend probably knows this man is not right.

There are few things more painful than watching a beautiful, intelligent, livewire friend slowly allow herself to be isolated until all that's left is she and him. There's no way to break through. The only option is patient waiting for, at best, a realisation that this relationship is not healthy, or, at worst, a cataclysmic event that forces action.

How many women, who have had an abuser set to work on them - pouring poison on their familiar and platonic relationships, isolating them, filling them full of desperate love - will take police advice of previous convictions or information and do the right thing with it? Few.

And where to go with this information when local authority funding to Women's Aid services is being cut across Scotland, when it is a struggle for domestic abuse charities to find the financial support they need?

I fully believe it is better to have access to information than not but most domestic abuse victims have enough information about their partner: they know how they are and what they are.

Just as valuable information to share is that of prevention. We know the signs: isolation from family and friends; small criticisms, or large; a desire for control; jealousy; quick anger; guilt, shame and intimidation; intensity then indifference.

If I were to set a law it would be the sharing of experiences between women and girls, a clear code of acceptable and unacceptable.

It would be preventative work with young women to set out clearly, so clearly, when to nest and when to fly.