Three months on and we still can’t plan for the future

Stephanie Meehan began 2011 living in Priory Hall and ended it not knowing what the future holds for her and her family

THIS year began full of hope for the future. After a five-year gap we eagerly anticipated the arrival of our second child.

March arrived, as did our daughter, Cerys. We were looking forward to a bright future with our young family. Oisín, my six-year-old son, was excited to have a new sister. I went back to work in October, just when the severity of the problems in Priory Hall came to light. It was a stressful time. Myself and Fiachra, my partner, tried to put a brave face on things in work and with Oisín but it was difficult.

We knew there were problems with the development. Just before Christmas 2009, Dublin City Council had moved their own tenants out due to safety concerns. However, it was not until much later that we realised how serious things would be. We were led to believe that the problems were being rectified as the developer had been ordered to fix the complex.

The full gravity of the situation came home to us in early October, only days before the evacuation order was made. Arriving home from work one Monday, I received a letter stating that due to problems with the development, all insurance coverage was being pulled on Priory Hall and no other insurance company would cover us. This is when I finally realised that this was not going to go away.

The following day, I was greeted by another letter, this time from Dublin City Council. At first I couldn’t believe my eyes. The letter stated that due to severe and immediate risk, they would be going to the High Court to seek an evacuation order of all residents at the earliest possibility.

The days leading up to the evacuation still have a sense of unreality about them. Everyone was in a panic. When would the evacuation happen? Would it be before Christmas? Where would we go? No one could provide answers. The council refused to meet with us and we were never given any indication of when the court action might happen.

I learnt of my family’s fate that Friday when I turned on the six o’clock news. The segment stated that the chief fire officer had told the judge that a fire could spread throughout the entire apartment complex in minutes and a fire engine had been ordered to remain on site until we had been evacuated by the following Monday.

This news shook me to the core. The fact that our children had been living in our home with such a threat hanging over them filled me with both guilt and anger. Guilt as a parent that, unknown to me, I had put my children at risk, and anger that the council had left me and my family in such danger for nearly two years without ever communicating the full extent of the dire circumstances.

We had 48 hours to move out and take everything we owned. What ensued could only be described as chaos — 250 people attempting to move in one weekend. Moving vans, families and friends came in droves to help empty hundreds of apartments. Yet, despite the chaos, people waited patiently for others to load their cars and create some space. Neighbours and the on-duty fire officers offered help where they could, and despite the long delays, tempers never flared.

We had no idea where to go or what to do with all our possessions. Luckily, our friends and family rallied round.

It was in court on Monday that I learnt where we would be living for the immediate future. Dublin City Council announced that rooms in the Regency Hotel had been booked for us and our neighbours after Mr Justice Nicholas Kearns had, on the previous Friday, ordered them to provide temporary accommodation while our homes were to be fixed.

I am not sure that I can ever find the words to express my gratitude to Mr Justice Kearns. The council had sought, with no regard for the human lives involved, to put my family and my neighbours out on the streets. But for the judge’s compassion, we would have been rendered homeless and forced to rely on the kindness of family and friends. To this day he is the only figure of authority to fully realise the human side of this tragedy.

When myself, Fiachra and our children arrived in the hotel that evening, there was no one from the council to meet us or answer our questions. The hotel had not even been informed that the rooms were going to be needed straight away as the council had provided no advance notice of our arrival or that the rooms were in fact for the people of Priory Hall.

Eventually we were handed a room key. We were given a single room, where we would have to live, get my son ready for school and take care of my six-month-old daughter, despite the lack of bottle-making facilities or other amenities for the children. While I couldn’t fault the staff, who made every effort to make our stay as comfortable as possible, the difficulty in taking care of children in these circumstances cannot be overstated.

After moving rooms three times in three days, we decided to unpack that Thursday as it became apparent we were there for the foreseeable future. The next day, arriving back from what was to become my weekly trip to court each Friday in the hope of learning if or when I could return to my home, I was approached by a very stressed employee of the council.

She informed me that a mistake had been made on their part and due to an upcoming poker tournament in the hotel, our room was no longer available. They insisted that we had to move again to another hotel and they needed the room back in the next half hour. Being forced to move infuriated me, as Oisín had only just settled in and he was devastated to move again. So regretfully I repacked everything and moved again to Bewleys, at Northern Cross.

We arrived at the hotel and explained our situation to an understanding council worker and asked if we could have adjoining rooms, at least then we would not have to sleep at the same time as the children. Thankfully, they had one available.

I was very reluctant to unpack, for the fear that I would have to pack again but, we couldn’t live out of a suitcase either. The hotel staff again were most helpful, regarding sterilising bottles and heating food, but this infuriated me even more — the pure fact that I had to ask somebody else to do it, when I should have been doing this in my own home drove home the reality of the situation.

THERE was a sense of relief, after two weeks, when we learnt of NAMA’s offer to provide some unused properties as temporary accommodation while our homes were to be fixed. This, however, was mixed with anger as again Dublin City Council chose to inform the press of their plans before letting the people involved know.

My anger may seem strange, given that the news provided hope for at least some stability for my family. However, you must bear in mind how surreal our existence had become. Our fate was communicated to us through the media. Friends and colleagues sometimes knew before me information that would have such huge bearing on me and my family.

I waited for 11am each Friday for the court to hear what plans the council had for my future. Both myself and Fiachra have always worked hard, to provide for our family, and to be helpless bystanders to proceedings that would have such an impact on our families future was hard to take.

Those few weeks in the hotel were the worst of my life. A hotel is for a short break, not for a home. We had many sleepless nights worrying about whether our home could or would be fixed, would we be forced to default on our mortgages, how will this effect the future we can give our children. To this day we still do not know.

For now we are living in temporary accommodation. We have yet to properly unpack as we’ve been living with the uncertainty of how long we can stay. The council has appealed the order by Mr Justice Kearns to provide temporary accommodation while a solution is sought to fix our homes. They argue that they are doing this for the benefit of the taxpayers.

Let me say that I never wanted to turn to the state for help. We did not save and sacrifice to scrape together a deposit, nor did we take out a mortgage so that four years down the line, I would find myself out on the street and relying on my government to house me.

I find the whole situation infuriating. How could I be expected to uncover the problems with my home? It took Dublin City Council almost a year and €40,000 to uncover the full extent of the problems. They were the building control authorities. They were the only people who could have uncovered the defects when it mattered most, during construction.

What home owner has the resources to do this themselves? Despite their obvious failure they and the Government have continuously sought to walk away from all responsibility. Why should I and my children be made to suffer for their incompetence?

Only hours before I wrote this I learnt, again through the media, that the cost to fix our homes amounted to €7.3 million. I have no idea if they expect me and my neighbours to provide these funds. Must I mortgage mine and my families futures to pay for the mistakes of a rogue builder, a government that was in hoc to developers and a local council unwilling or unable to carry out their duties.

Nearly three months on, we can still make no plans for the future. To this day no work has been carried out on our home, nor is there any plan for this work to begin. Our government still ignores us.

The reality is that this is not a problem of our making, nor is it one we can solve. We need our government to step up and take some responsibility for the mistakes of the past.