Every Wednesday at 6pm, William Church watches his son James’s face burst on to his computer screen. James is four years old, with blonde curls and his father’s eyes, which light up at the sight of his Dad.

A TV blares in the background of the room James is in, so it’s difficult to hear what he’s saying, but William perseveres.

He opens his son’s favourite storybook. But the picture on the screen is fuzzy, and often freezes. By the time it’s back, the boy has become distracted and wanders off. William longs to reach out and scoop his son into his arms. But he can’t.

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Following a legal ruling in 2011, British courts now consider video calling a sufficient way for fathers to keep in contact with their children (stock image)

This continues for an hour. James trundles back and forth, pressing buttons on the laptop and burbling to his father. He tells him about his day at nursery, his new toy, what Mummy made for dinner.

Then, come 7pm on the dot, even if the pair are mid-conversation, the laptop is shut — and William doesn’t see James for another week.

Since his relationship with James’s mother, Sue, broke down in 2013, William, 34, an accountant from Edinburgh, has become a ‘Skype dad’.

This hour of virtual visitation via the computer-based video chat programme is the only regular quality time he spends with his son each week.

According to a contact order granted by a judge after a long legal battle, he is supposed to see him in person for a week every month, too, though this often falls through. Last month, for example, his wife didn’t get to the airport on time, so James missed his flight to see his dad.

James and his mother now live in Newquay, Cornwall, 530 miles from William’s Scottish home. The couple were married for 11 years, and had lived in Edinburgh together. When they separated it was amicable at first and William, who had moved to a new flat in the city, saw James every week. Then, one day, he arrived at the old family home to find it empty — and Sue gone.

‘I don’t know what his address is. It is torture. I get messages from [my ex-wife] saying James too tired, busy or doesn’t want to go on Skype. I worry it’s doing our relationship more damage than good. Most weeks, I don’t even say goodbye.’ William Church

She’d moved to Newquay with her new boyfriend, taking James. Two years later, Skype has become William’s lifeline: his only regular means of watching his son grow up.

‘I don’t know what his address is,’ says William. ‘It is torture. I get messages from her saying he’s too tired, busy or doesn’t want to go on Skype. I worry it’s doing our relationship more damage than good. Most weeks, I don’t even say goodbye.’

Though heartbreaking, William’s situation is, sadly, not unique. Since a landmark legal ruling in 2011, the phenomenon of ‘Skype dads’ has exploded.

In the case, reported under the headline ‘Let them use Skype’, Britain’s leading family law judge, Sir Nicholas Wall, granted permission for a divorced mother to move to Australia with her two young children, leaving their father in Britain. It seemed the justification was that the father’s relationship with his children wouldn’t be affected, because he could use video calls and instant messaging to keep in touch.

While the invention of FaceTime — the Skype equivalent for Apple devices (both are free) — means more options for long-distance communication, experts raised concerns that the case set a worrying precedent for fathers trying to stop ex-partners fleeing abroad. Communicating over digital devices, they said, was no substitute for face-to-face contact.

With increased likelihood of meeting partners from overseas, thanks to an expanding jobs market and routine foreign travel, it’s little surprise that, today, there are thought to be thousands of Skype dads in Britain.

Adam Gigante's ex-partner moved to Australia, leaving him with a contact order granting 20 nights a year with son Luca (pictured here with Adam) - ten in England, ten in New South Wale - and a weekly Skype session

When a relationship breaks down, returning home is often the first thing on a partner’s mind. When that partner is the mother, more often than not, she’ll want to take her child, too.

Adam Gigante knows this situation all too well. He met his ex-partner, an Australian national, in 2003, and they moved in together in London. In 2009, they had a son, Luca, now five. When they split, in 2011, Adam moved out, while Luca stayed with his mum.

Then, she announced she wanted to move back to Sydney to be near her family — and intended to take Luca with her. A custody battle ensued.

‘As she was the primary carer when we went to court, she was able to say the support of her family would make her a more effective mother in Australia,’ says Adam, 38, a compliance officer for a financial services firm. ‘She said it was in Luca’s best interests to move. The court acknowledged that. I was left with a contact order granting me 20 nights a year with him (ten in England, ten in New South Wales) and a weekly Skype session.’

Adam, 38, from London, says Skype is much better than phone calls, enabling him to see five-year-old son Luca growing up in Australia, watch his mannerisms and monitor his behaviour

They’ve adhered to the order since Luca left in July 2012. ‘He was two when it started,’ says Adam. ‘A relationship with a two-year-old is about physical contact, so that was difficult on Skype. It was harder to be a father to him then.

‘Now he’s older, he’s used to it. We recently changed the timing of our session to his Saturday night (my Sunday morning), so I can read him a bedtime story. That’s made a huge improvement. Previously, it was at his breakfast time, when he was too full of beans.’ While Adam would, of course, prefer to see his son in person, he says Skype is much better than phone calls, enabling him to see Luca growing up, watch his mannerisms and monitor his behaviour.

There is no danger, either, of Luca forgetting what his dad looks like. Adam’s positive experience is mostly down to Luca’s mother’s co-operation, though, and Adam knows he is lucky. ‘It is pretty appalling to be a parent on the other side of the world,’ he says. ‘But it could be a lot worse. If his mum didn’t want to help, it wouldn’t work. She encourages him to pay attention. If she didn’t then, legally speaking, it’d be almost impossible for me to do anything about it.’

When one partner moves abroad, British courts lose jurisdiction of the case three months after it ends. So if conditions of contact aren’t fulfilled, the partner left behind has to go to a foreign court

This is one of the Skype dads’ biggest challenges. When one partner moves abroad, British courts lose jurisdiction of the case three months after it ends. So if conditions of contact aren’t fulfilled, the partner left behind has to go to a foreign court.

Realistically, this is more likely to be the father. This is a reflection of the fact that, in the majority of cases, the mother is the main carer, says Catherine Thomas, managing director of top London divorce solicitors Vardags.

Added to this is the lack of legal aid — public money to help fund certain cases — which was dropped from child contact cases two years ago.

This, says Thomas, is a ‘genuine tragedy’. ‘In the past, if a father felt the mother was being unreasonable, or not complying with visits or video calls, he could potentially get legal aid and ask a judge to make a decision. Sadly, this is no longer an option.’

John McKay, 50, a sales manager from Basingstoke, was so desperate for help in improving his Skype calls with his three-year-old daughter, Rachel, which began when his girlfriend moved with her to Portugal in 2012, that he applied to the charity Families Need Fathers for support.

‘Any dad who wants to be a dad in this situation faces huge costs,’ he says. ‘As well as weekly maintenance, I’ve had to buy a house Portugal so I can see my daughter, and I’ve changed my car as I racked up such a big mileage driving to and from the airport.’

John admits his split from Rachel’s mother was acrimonious, and she now has a new boyfriend in Portugal. His Skype calls with his daughter three times a week are difficult. ‘The camera sometimes points to the corner of the room, so I can only see her if she’s in a certain chair,’ he says. ‘Or sometimes, she’ll be eating or having a bath at the agreed time, so the last thing she wants to do is Skype. Once, she closed the laptop mid-call accidentally.’

'Jake can show me his schoolwork and if I’m travelling, I give him a tour of my hotel room,' says Skype dad Mark Tudor, 42, from South Wales. 'It helps make up for things like not being able to take him swimming'

Their pre-agreed Skype times are often cancelled or changed at short notice, he says, and their last call was two weeks ago — because her mother says she is having trouble with her internet connection.

‘Maintaining a relationship through Skype is just impossible,’ he says. ‘I don’t understand how judges can say it’s sufficient contact. I love my daughter and miss her every day.’

But others have more encouraging reports of fatherhood by Skype. Mark Tudor, 42, a medical products agency manager from South Wales, divorced three years ago. His ex-wife moved 30 miles away with their two sons.

His younger son, Jake, now ten, was keen to start video calling his father. Mark, who travels for business, was unable to commit to regular face-to-face time, so he requested Skype calls as part of his contact order when his wife was granted custody. They use it several times a week between visits.

‘Our relationship has come on so well,’ says Mark, who has a new partner, Sarah, with whom he has a 15-week-old son. ‘Jake can show me his schoolwork and if I’m travelling, I give him a tour of my hotel room. It helps make up for everyday things, like not being able to take him swimming.’

‘When Jake comes to visit, we feed the ducks and go out on our bikes,’ says Mark Tudor, of his ten-year-old son. ‘You simply can’t replicate that through a screen’

But, he adds, video calls could never replace being physically together. ‘When Jake comes to visit, we feed the ducks and go out on our bikes,’ he says. ‘You simply can’t replicate that through a screen.’

Michael Robinson, author of The Custody Minefield, a guide for divorcing parents, says ‘good’ Skype relationships are rare. ‘Getting younger children to sit still is difficult and the technology is often unreliable,’ he says. ‘For the relocating parent, it’s an inconvenience. For the parent on the other side, keeping the relationship going can be horrendous.’

He adds the priority for judges in such cases should be what’s best for the child — often lost amid parents’ fraught legal battles. ‘There are risks to a child’s welfare from severing or diminishing relationships with one parent. The Children’s Society found those whose involvement with their father is dramatically reduced are 40 per cent more likely than average to suffer depression.

‘After a separation, a child’s world can change dramatically — losing one parent, schoolfriends,extended family. It’s like a multiple bereavement.’

William Church fears this is what his son is going through. Frustrated by their lack of Skype contact, he is returning to court next week, seeking an order with regard to the timetable of video calls imposed by the judge.

‘He’s very confused,’ says William. ‘One day, he will want to hear what happened between me and his mother and I’ll be able to hold my head up and say I fought every day for us to have as much contact as possible.

‘I’m doing my best to have a relationship with him — but there’s only so many times you can say “I love you” through a screen.’