On the landing of the third floor, the paint is flaking and the neon light flickers like an old memory. The neighbor across the hall leans on her broom and shakes her head. “Two years,” she murmurs, pointing to the closed door. “She hasn’t slept here for two years.”
This door belongs to Monique, 72, retired secretary, tenant of a small social housing flat she once called “my little nest.”
Today, that nest is almost always empty.
Or rather, it has become a kind of second home that she visits when it suits her.
And now the landlord wants her out.
Since I Started Doing These January Tricks To My Apple Trees, My Harvest Has Doubled Every Summer
The invisible tenant at the end of the corridor
The story began with small absences no one really noticed. A drawn shutter for a few days, then a few weeks. The mailbox slowly filling with supermarket flyers and brown envelopes. At first the neighbors thought Monique was visiting family or in hospital.
Then the rumors started. Someone saw her more often in a seaside village 300 kilometers away, where she owns a tiny studio inherited from her parents. The social housing flat in the city slowly turned into a ghost apartment.
The hallway stayed quiet. Too quiet.
For the lady opposite, nothing changed and everything changed at the same time. She used to hear the kettle whistling through the thin wall, the TV with the volume a bit too loud, the cough in winter. These little signs that say: “Someone lives here.”
Now, she only hears her own fridge hum. She counts the days between Monique’s brief comings and goings. Two or three times a year, the old tenant appears, drags a suitcase inside, opens the windows, spends a few nights, and disappears again.
For the building manager, that was the last straw. A report was filed. An investigation into “effective occupation” was launched.
Behind this closed door, there’s a bigger issue than a simple neighborly dispute. Social housing is supposed to house people who have nowhere else to live, not provide a comfortable backup pied-à-terre. Thousands of families wait for years on waiting lists while some apartments remain half-empty, lights off most of the time.
Officially, tenants must occupy their social housing as their main residence. Sleep there most nights of the year. Pay their bills there. Receive their mail there. Live there for real.
When the landlord suspects a second home arrangement, they can go as far as asking for eviction.
Which is exactly what’s now happening to Monique.
“It’s my right”: the retiree fights back
On paper, the case looks simple: a retiree who mostly lives in her inherited studio and keeps her social flat as a fallback. In real life, it’s much messier. Monique swears she has “no intention” of abandoning her social housing. She says she spends “the winter months” there and that the seaside studio is too humid during the cold season.
She waves electricity bills showing a tiny bit of consumption, a voting card registered at the city address, a doctor still listed nearby. For her, that proves the flat is her reference point.
For the landlord, it proves almost the opposite.
The housing office checked the meter readings. The numbers barely moved over twelve months. No internet subscription. No regular water consumption. The concierge saw almost no one coming or going.
A control visit found a clean apartment, but almost frozen in time: the same box of cereal open on the counter for months, hardly any food in the fridge, the calendar stuck on last year.
A report described a “non-regular occupation, similar to the use of a second home.”
Eviction proceedings were launched. The words sound brutal on paper. They sound even more violent when addressed to a 72-year-old woman.
For the social landlord, the reasoning is clear. The rules require fair use of a scarce public resource. A flat kept “just in case” is a flat not offered to a family crammed into a hotel room with two kids. *That’s the part of the story we rarely see when we just look at one closed door in a hallway.*
But for Monique, losing this apartment would mean cutting the last thread tying her to the city where she worked, where her doctor, her old friends, and her memories are. She calls the eviction “a social death sentence.”
In court, she contests everything: the definition of “main residence”, the interpretation of her bills, even the right of the landlord to question the rhythm of her life.
How far can you go before your home stops being your home?
This case touches a fear many tenants have but rarely voice: can you lose your home just because you’re away too often? The law, in most cases, speaks about “effective and constant occupation” as a main residence. That doesn’t mean you can’t go on holiday, visit grandchildren, or spend a few weeks with a new partner.
It does mean that your social housing can’t quietly slide into the role of a holiday flat or permanent backup plan.
The line is thin, but it exists: electricity, water, insured belongings, regular presence, and a life that truly unfolds there.
People often get lost between what feels morally acceptable and what the contract actually says. We all know retirees who divide their time between two regions, students who keep a room “just in case” while mostly living with a partner, families who leave for months to care for an elderly parent. These are real lives, not tidy legal cases.
The big mistake is waiting until the landlord asks questions. By then, every detail becomes suspicious: a low bill, a quiet neighbor, closed shutters for too long.
Let’s be honest: nobody really reads every line of their lease before signing.
Monique’s story echoes other silent conflicts: empty apartments in buildings that echo, lists of applicants that stretch over years, landlords torn between empathy and duty. The plain truth is simple: **social housing is designed for primary lives, not parallel ones.**
Some tenants feel guilty for spending a few weeks elsewhere. Others don’t see the problem in transforming their flat into a seasonal base. Between those two extremes, there’s a grey zone where many live, half-legitimately, half-anxiously.
That’s where Monique has been standing. Until the system finally rang the alarm.
What this story changes for everyone living in social housing
Once the shock of eviction proceedings fades, Monique’s case leaves a very practical question hanging in the air: what can other tenants do to avoid reaching this point? The first reflex should be simple: talk before disappearing. Inform the landlord in writing of long absences, especially if they go beyond a month or two.
Explain where you’re going, why, how long, and how they can reach you. Attach supporting documents if needed. Keeping a trace of these exchanges can weigh heavily in your favour if questions arise later.
Even more concrete: keep living traces in the apartment. Real ones.
Some common traps are surprisingly banal. Canceling every bill to “save money” when you’re not there. Leaving the fridge unplugged, cupboards empty, curtains closed for months. Asking a cousin to collect your mail so the box looks clean, which ironically makes the flat seem even more deserted.
When life scatters us between several places, we tend to improvise. We think, “It’s temporary, it’ll be fine.” That’s human. And that’s exactly how small irregularities pile up and become big red flags for the landlord or the city.
**We’ve all been there, that moment when reality catches up with the story we were telling ourselves.**
The lawyer who agreed to comment on Monique’s case sums it up in one sentence:
“Keeping social housing as a comfort option is legally risky… and morally explosive when you remember the waiting lists.”
For tenants trying to navigate this without getting burned, a few concrete markers help:
- Keep the flat as your genuine living center (doctor, voting address, daily life).
- Avoid ultra-long absences without written notice to the landlord.
- Maintain normal consumption levels: not extravagant, not almost zero.
- Refuse the temptation to treat the flat as a vacation home shared with a second address.
- Ask for legal advice as soon as you feel you’re drifting into a grey area.
In Monique’s hallway, none of this was ever really discussed.
The silence did the talking for her.
The door, the corridor, and the people we don’t see
Behind every closed social housing door, there’s a private story nobody fully knows. A widow who sleeps at her daughter’s to avoid being alone at night. A seasonal worker gone for months, telling himself he’ll “come back one day.” A retiree tired of city noise, who quietly settles by the sea and keeps a foothold in case the dream turns sour.
Monique is just one name among thousands. But her fight against eviction forces everyone to look up from their own doormat and see the wider picture.
On one side, there are those who wait. Families confined in too-small rooms, people living in their cars, applications that disappear into online portals and cardboard files. On the other, there are flats that light up three weekends a year, like sparsely used hotel rooms paid by public money.
Between these two realities, the law tries to draw a line. It doesn’t always succeed with nuance or softness, especially when age and fragility come into play. But it reminds us of something uncomfortable: **a social home isn’t just mine, it’s also everyone’s.**
For Monique, the judge’s decision will fall in a few weeks. Maybe she’ll keep her keys, under certain conditions. Maybe she’ll have to turn them in and say goodbye to this corridor which has aged with her.
For her neighbor, the one with the broom and the sad look, the question will linger: how long do we wait before saying out loud that someone is no longer really there? And for any tenant reading this, a quiet doubt can become a useful reflection: where does your home actually live, day after day?
Sometimes, the answer isn’t where the name on the doorbell suggests.
| Key point | Detail | Value for the reader |
|---|---|---|
| Effective occupation matters | Social housing must be a main residence, not an occasional second home | Helps avoid risky situations that can lead to eviction |
| Signs the landlord looks at | Meter readings, neighbor testimonies, presence of belongings, regular mail | Lets tenants understand what may trigger an investigation |
| Communication can change outcomes | Written notice for long absences and documented explanations | Offers concrete tools to protect one’s tenancy in complex life situations |
FAQ:
- Can I spend several months away from my social housing without losing it?
You can be away for extended periods, but the flat must remain your true main residence, with proof of ongoing life there and ideally written information to the landlord about long absences.- What evidence shows that a home is still my main residence?
Regular electricity and water use, mail and official documents sent there, your doctor and voting registration, and neighbors seeing you regularly are all strong indicators.- Can a landlord really evict a retiree for non-occupation?
Yes, age doesn’t cancel the obligation of effective occupation, though judges sometimes consider vulnerability and specific health or family reasons.- What should I do if I have another small property or I split my time?
Declare every address honestly, keep one clear main residence, and get legal advice if you’re using social housing while owning or inheriting another place.- What if I’m away caring for a relative or for health reasons?
Explain the situation in writing, keep documents (hospital letters, care proofs), and show that the social housing remains your central home, not a forgotten spare key.
