Would you bend the rules?

Sarah was Palestinian, Christian, 67 and single again. This was courtesy a process of familial attrition which started when her family fled Haifa for the Lebanon after the Jews moved into the Arab areas of Haifa. The family settled (if you want to call it that) in one of the refugee camps in East Beirut. Her father died soon after the move, though I don't quite remember how. Her husband and eldest son were tortured and killed by Samir Geagea's Phalange when they attacked the camp during the Civil War. She fled with her daughters across the Green Line to Muslim West Beirut, where she found more kindness than she had with her fellow Christians. Towards the end of the civil war, their home (donated by the PLO, if I remember correctly) was hit by a suction bomb from an Israeli warship. One of her daughters died immediately, the other a month later, in hospital. She remained in Beirut until the end of the war, with her son and daughter-in-law. Through a series of moves I didn't have the time to track, what remained of the family found themselves in Jenin (of all places) in the late 90s. They were in Jenin in 2002. To cut her long story short, the son died. Sarah and her daughter-in-law came over to the UK soon afterwards. The daughter-in-law, during the last of a long series of breakdowns, killed herself a year after arrival.

Sarah had been granted asylum ('I'm Christian, so.......', she said sadly, by way of explanation. Whatever. Thank God). The problem was accomodation. She'd been put up in a series of grotty, dangerous hostels where her neighbours included the odd crack addict, pimp and knife-wielding extortionist. Sarah, throughout her years of suffering and exile, had managed to keep herself defiantly middle class. She'd worked as a secretary for a few years after coming to England, and had some money. This was a matter of great pride to her. It also made her a prime target in the hostels. Now she was too old and too sick to work. But since she was not a priority, Housing kept her at the bottom of the list. She didn't have a ghost of a chance of getting a proper flat anytime soon. Rather than live in a hostel, she's been relying on the kindness of a succession of friends, mostly people from her church.

Sarah had arthritis and depression. She'd been depressed for years, and the idea of treating it with a pill or therapy had been given up a long time ago. The idea that this woman's demoralization could be reduced to a diagnosis was as ludicrous as it was useless.

The only thing that could make her life a bit more bearable was a flat.

As the social workers and doctors involved in her care, we could spin her situation in such a way that she'd become a priority for housing. The question is, should we?

After all, she's just an old, unemployed, sponging asylum seeker.