"Hopefully"

Tommy, my Pathmead's housing officer, came round this morning.

He said they've found a two bed temporary for me and my son, down an alleyway, within the perimeters of my son's school.

I felt angry tears spike my inner eyelids. Worse than a secure, affordable council flat but better than a hostel.

Then he said:

"We have to wait until the flat becomes void for you to move in."

Excuse me?

"The person living there has to be evicted before you can move in. I think the court has issued the bailiffs order already."

"What? What? When is my bailiffs order coming? Who is this person? A family? A family is being evicted so we can move in?"

"I cannot give you details of the case. Hopefully the flat will be void when you are evicted so we can move you in."

"And if it isn't?"

"Well you might have to go into a hostel in the interim."

"What? No. No. That can't happen. It can't." Where oh where oh where will the council fucking put us?

"Don't cry mummy," says my son coming up to me, arm around my waist, little hand stroking my wet cheek.

"It's okay son, it's ok." How we mothers are forced to lie.

"I can't be made to do this. Even if we get this two bedroom that others are being evicted from, it's still insecure. Look at this... look at this..."

I showed him one of the letters I'd often receive from the council, this one dated
2006:

Dear Ms de Nim,

Re: Your current temporary tenancy

Camden Council currently has an arrangement with Pathmeads Housing Association to provide you with temporary accommodation at you [sic] current address. This arrangement may be finishing later this year..."

"We've never felt secure here. Never, never. Is this how it's to be forever? Eviction after eviction after eviction?"

I showed him my article in the cnj, switched on my computer so he could read what I sent to the Guardian.

"Look after your mummy," said Tommy as he left.

It's not his fucking job. I wanted to scream. Nothing, nothing came out of me, just pain from my eyes, hot as might be in a hellish situation such as this.

On the form I had to sign, he wrote that I was "distraught".

Why do you bother Tommy? Nobody will fucking care.

Your hopefully, my hopefully

The system doesn't care.