It was a quaint notion, but very much of its time.

The then Glasgow Corporation thought the idea of a Women's Refuge a thoroughly bad one – their reasoning being that it would split up families. We all know what a happy family it is when one of the spouses is being regularly battered.

Nevertheless the doughty pioneers who campaigned for a home where women could escape abuse with their children were made of stern stuff, which is why, this summer, Glasgow Women's Aid will be commemorating the 40th anniversary of that first refuge in Abbotsford Place in the Gorbals.

Mary O'Donnell, one of the original committee, has vivid memories of the first three room and kitchen. She cheerfully admits they were so naive at the start that they operated an open-door policy. "We suddenly found 10 women and 18 children had moved in. Things were so overcrowded that some women moved back with their husband."

The original notion, Ms O'Donnell remembers, was the brainchild of an Irish feminist and social worker from Dundalk who arrived in Glasgow via California. It was on America's West Coast that Maura Butterly came across the women's aid movement, and persuaded a group of Glasgow women that they should replicate it in a city where there was no shortage of victims of domestic violence.

It took them a year to persuade the authorities to provide that first flat and then the one next door, which eased the pressure a little.

At the time she was a primary teacher "Most of us had a job, others had young families. We were having weekly meetings, finding volunteers, driving round in a van collecting furniture where we could. There was a great sense of camaraderie."

Then, as now, the major headache was lack of funds. Lois Hobbs, who took over as treasurer in year two, remembers nagging everyone she could lay her hands on from the local authority to people who ran breweries or shipyards. And, with the rest of the committee, she took the pitch round women's groups in churches and anyone else they thought might contribute.

"In the beginning it was really hard to persuade people of the huge need for premises like these. When we finally got some money from social work I think they thought if we opened the house, that would be the end of the problem," Ms Hobbs remembers.

"We also had real difficulties at first getting the women re-housed and if they couldn't move on, others couldn't move in even though we had people banging on the door. Then when we finally got the housing department involved they wouldn't offer accommodation if there were outstanding rent arrears, although these were in the husband's name. But when one of the women tried to commit suicide because of her situation, that woke a lot of people up."

Prior to Glasgow Women's Aid opening its doors, much of the violence remained a hidden problem. "The women were ashamed," says Mary. "The prevailing culture was that it must be their own fault. And before we set up, desperate women would be put in a hostel for three weeks and then their husbands would be asked if they would take the woman back."

But if the ever-present need for funds hasn't altered much in four decades, the quality of what's on offer has moved on beyond recognition. In place of volunteers trained staff now operate in the Bell Street office and drop-in centre, and throughout the four refuges in the city. And huge strides have been made in addressing the problems of the children growing up in a violent household.

Marie Farry, who's about to take up post as children's team leader, has been working with children and families in the Glasgow Women's Aid outreach programme. Part of that task is to provide follow-up support to women and children when they've moved out. The Scottish Government now funds a programme set up to help children who may have been traumatised by their experiences in the home.

They can have weekly meetings with someone who will help them to feel safer and more confident. Older children will be given a mobile number where they know they can always find a trusted adult. The toddlers will often work with a play therapist.

"For the wee ones, play is a language they find easier to help express their emotions," says Farry, "and also to tell us what has been happening in their lives. Ideally we will also be able to work with their mother too. Sometimes it's the first occasion they've had the time and the right environment to relate properly to their child and play with them."

"Every child is different, but they all need to feel safe. Maybe we can't turn their lives around, but we can teach them to feel better about themselves, and teach them too what healthy relationships look like."