the phone call

It's been so long since my last blog. I think one part from the story is missing though and that's when the phone call happened. 

So there we were still, we had been at refuge for maybe seven or eight months. There were conversations and crying with support workers that felt quite desperate. The rental market was so competitive, and we were so very undesirable with the only income being universal credits and three children compared to a contracted mechanical engineer on 50k plus.  We went to one viewing where I asked the children to pretend they were pensioners and be very quiet - be totally unlike our natural selves to present the impression we were dull and would be perfect house tenants. I look down and my littlest has found a pair of reading glasses in the lounge and is wearing them. Mechanical engineers don't do that.  Meanwhile my husband is living in a four bedroom house and would not move. There were three of us sharing a bedroom. 

The demand for a home was high and the whole building wanted somewhere safe to live. Every week I attended the housing hour where you look at bidding on properties. You get a postcode, and a house description but no photos. It feels a little vague when it's so massively important.  However, there was a house that came up that would work, still a 30 min drive to school but in a safe area. I put the bid in and thought no more about it. Until, the phone call came telling me I was successful and we had been given a council house. After nine months at refuge we got a home, ready in three weeks. The four hour school run daily would soon be over. We were delirious!