"Remember?"

Originally posted at Vintage Fee on Thursday, 14th March 2013.

Remember how everything was okay? How it wasn't home but it was safe and clean and suitable for my baby?

Remember when I let myself relax for just a moment, and actually convinced myself that things were on the up?

Two weeks ago, myself, my partner and a friend who lived in the same temporary accommodation as us approached our local council about some concerns we had regarding our living situation. Nothing major; unsecured CCTV, fire alarms that didn't work, staff lying to residents and hearing staff lie to authorities who were inspecting the property - one of which being the council themselves. we stressed that we loved the building itself. The rooms were spotless, light and airy and we felt like we were part of a community when we were there. Given that nobody is there because their situation is ideal, we all got along great and our families meshed together into a happy home. I was excited to bring my baby home to that house. Everything was set up and ready, I loved the location and I was surrounded by a support system I felt positive about.

The evening of our complaint, a member of the management staff visited the building and entered the dining room, where most of us gathered to socialise throughout the day. He was a short, runty Asian man who looked like a shrew and barely spoke any English - I had only seen him once since the day we had arrived and been shown around by him. He asked if anybody had any problems. We said no. He then specifically asked me, telling me he was disappointed that I had gone to the council instead of approaching him. I hadn't actually given my name at the council - I had mostly gone for moral support - and we were told all complaints would be anonymous, so I was upset to be singled out in front of a room full of people. I explained that my partner would be more than happy to speak with him when he got home that evening: he is better with words than I am, and the complaint had been made in his name anyway. It was a conversation he was keen to have and, to be honest, I was keen to avoid. I can't stand confrontation. A meeting was arranged for 7.30 that evening. The member of management (I still don't know his name) did not show up.

A few days later, the owner of the building arrived. She was a tall, skinny German woman who would have done well for herself as a prison guard in the war, both in attitude and sternness of face. My partner and I were on our way out to the launderette, and were carrying things to the car. When my partner was safely out of the way, Mrs K (the German) told me to stop where I was. I was carrying a large laundry basket (at 38 weeks pregnant) and didn't want to be hanging around. Especially not with this woman, who I found incredibly intimidating.

"What's your problem?", she asked me.

"I don't have one. I'm just on my way out."

"I hear you have a problem. So go on. What is it?"

"I don't. My partner will talk to you. I'll go and get him." She just glared at me while I scurried off to get him. He came in, said he absolutely wanted to talk about his issues but was tight on time.  He explained that he'd had plenty of time to speak at the meeting that was arranged previously, but that nobody had showed up.

"Just tell me now. Is it about the cctv? It's got to go somewhere. It's hardly a big deal".

"Actually, your footage is unsecured and the woman monitoring it doesn't have an SIA license. You're breaking the law."

"Oh. Well like I said, it's got to go somewhere. What else?"

"I really need to go. I'd like to talk to you properly about everything, not rush it now."

"Well I won't be here again any time soon so you can talk to me now."

He left. She had no interest in listening to him, so there was no point trying to reason with her.

For the next week or so the staff made my life hell. Every time my partner was out, I was confronted. I was getting nervous and stressed, and my partner was frustrated that they would only confront me, never him. It got to the point that as soon as my partner drove away, a quiet phone call in another language was made and a member of the elusive management team would arrive within minutes. My bedroom door would be knocked, or the dining room would be entered, and I'd be aggressively asked if I had a problem. Nonetheless, it was better than the streets. It was a clean home and I was surrounded by friends. I stayed quiet, kept myself to myself and hoped they'd get bored soon.

On Monday morning, I unlocked my bedroom door and allowed two builders to enter, as they were changing a window to make it more fire safe. I stayed out of my room all day so as not to get in their way; I chatted with a friend in the dining room in the morning, we took her daughter for a walk then came home and made lunch together. After lunch, the Littlest Asian showed up. "I want to talk to you in your room", he said. I followed him in.

"Where you have been smoking, you have burned the carpet", he said. My partner and I don't smoke at all. I explained that. "Well that is amazing to me", he shouted, "because I can see the marks on the floor and it wasn't like that when you arrived". I informed him that there had been two builders in my room all day and that I could assure him it wasn't due to smoking: neither of us smoked, I'm 9 and a half months pregnant and I don't even have candles, straighteners or ANYTHING that could cause a burn in my room. I left, confused as to what the mark could be. My partner came home shortly after and examined the mark, which was greasy and brown and not a burn mark in the slightest.

When my partner left to collect his daughter from school, the man came back and told me I had broken the contract by smoking. I explained again that we don't smoke and that my partner would like to talk to him about the accusations. He said he wouldn't talk to him, only to me. And then he left.
He and my partner arrived back to the building at almost the same time that evening. An argument erupted. He said that he had never said we smoke. Then that we shouldn't smoke in the rooms. He yelled in my face that I was a liar. He told us to get out for breaking the rules by smoking. He said the council had found a home for us anyway. My partner asked him to say that on tape; he immediately denied having said it. Eventually he told us he knew we smoked, we were a danger to the other guests and to be out by 9.30 the next morning. We packed our things, I cried, eventually we fell asleep, not knowing where we were supposed to spend our next night.

At 9am he banged on the door and asked me why I wasn't gone yet.

"You said 9.30, and my partner isn't back from dropping his daughter off at school yet", I said. I still felt incredibly fragile and had spent the morning fighting back tears already. "Tell him to hurry up. I want you out now." He told me. Then scurried off to another room.

My partner arrived and was livid at him for stressing me out again. They argued again, we walked out with the last of our things and made our way to the council. The council told us we had forfeited the right to temporary accommodation by smoking in the rooms (we don't smoke.) and to find a friend with a comfy couch because the wait for a house is still 10 - 12 months. We asked to speak to a senior officer to appeal the decision.

While we waited for the senior officer, I received a phonecall from a friend still living at the old accommodation. She told me that Runty had announced that sadly we had to leave. The guests began arguing "no, you forced them out for something they didn't do when she is 9 months pregnant" and he told them people should be careful who they complain about, and that we should never have gone to the council. An independent builder was working in the house and was shocked to hear we didn't actually smoke, so asked to examine the mark. He said he didn't know what it was but it certainly wasn't a cigarette burn. Runty shrugged and said we hadn't seemed happy being there anyway, so it was for the best that we left.

We relayed this information to the senior officer and, luckily, she took our side. We were offered a b&b 20 miles out of our city. It is skanky as hell. Ten families share a bathroom (with no lock, as it has been snapped), and we are asked to keep all food in our rooms and not linger in communal areas. The walls and beds had things smeared on them (god knows what). The stained carpets are 2 inches away from the walls. I have to climb 3 flights of stairs to reach my room. I am due to give birth next week and the thought of my baby being here breaks my heart. But we can't complain - we could be on the streets. It is better than nothing. And it is only a year.

Of course, there is the issue of the six week rule. It is against the law to keep a family or a pregnant woman in b&b accommodation for longer than 6 weeks, yet it is reported that councils across England are guilty of this in 800% more cases this year. Not only that, but the length of time that it takes councils to take families from poor conditions and give them homes is impossible to report because of the illegality of it: councils have no figures to provide because any figure beyond six weeks is a broken law. Yet my council told me a year. They told my pregnant friend with two existing children a year for two bedrooms. They don't even try to stay within the six week law. When I asked why the length of time was a year and not the six weeks that the law dictates, I was told that there are too many people to house, they are only just housing people who were made homeless 10 months ago and there is no breakfast provided here - it is fully self catering so it is only TECHNICALLY called a b&b for the purposes of the contract. In the same way that the guest house we were thrown out of was. What a nice little loophole.

The moral of the story should be to keep quiet, but no. Why should we keep quiet and allow somebody to lie to and mistreat our family? The moral of the story will have to be endurance. I need to get through the next year so that my baby has a good home. I'm doing this for him. And that's all that matters.

Attached is a photo of the carpet mark that lost us a home, if anybody is interested. I almost bloody wish we DID smoke, so this whole thing could have been worth something!