Grenfell’s former residents will never forget the fear and chaos of 14 June 2017, or the anger and grief that followed. They talk about the night everything changed – and their long battles to regain some kind of normality

Works as a consultant in Malta. Lived on the 21st floor

Grenfell was the end of London. I couldn’t stay in the UK. Now, I live in Malta. I rented from a private landlord on the 21st floor. On a rainy day, there would be clouds outside the window. I would sit in my living room and drink a coffee and look out towards Portobello. It was just great. The community was fantastic. Kids would play in the communal areas. You could leave your door open.

I was the chair of the Grenfell residents’ groups. I did it because the TMO [tenancy management organisation] was so inadequate. I thought: what the flipping heck is going on here? I’d never seen people treated in that manner before. Such contempt. There was a gentleman who lived on one of the higher floors who had gone three years with a condemned bathroom. The TMO wouldn’t do anything. We finally got it sorted for him, but only after getting a councillor involved.

I was lucky not to be in the tower the night of the fire. I had moved out the previous October. I woke up early that morning and looked at my phone. Someone sent me a picture of the tower burning. They said: “Did you used to live here?” I went into shock, but the interesting thing was that I wasn’t surprised. I’d discussed with other residents the fact that there might be a fire in a tower block.

My life was in tatters for months after the fire. I didn’t know what to do with myself. I’ve struggled with my work. I don’t look at the world the same. I can’t act the way I used to. I’ve looked back at the emails and letters the residents’ association wrote to the council and the TMO and I ask myself: were they too nice? Why didn’t we shout more?

I was disappointed to see that the Grenfell inquiry didn’t look at social housing and inequality. We’re not looking at the things that need to change to prevent another catastrophe. It may not be in a tower block. It may be on a railway, or in a hospital, or in our economy. Inequality isn’t changing and another disaster will happen.

Unable to work due to disability. Lived on the third floor

I moved into Grenfell in 2016. The council had told me that I’d be moving into an accessible flat, but it wasn’t suitable. The front door was too narrow for my electric wheelchair, so I had to leave it in the corridor.

The night of the fire, one of my children had earache. His father, David, was with me, helping out. I went to bed. The next thing I knew, David was waking me up. I wasn’t wearing my glasses, but I could see this big, orange light reflecting from the windows of the building opposite. I called 999 and explained that I needed help leaving the flat. About 45 minutes later, three firefighters arrived. They started swearing and freaking out because my wheelchair was blocking the front door. They were kicking it.

The firefighters asked me if I could stand up, but I couldn’t. They took the children and David and said they would come back for me. I was so scared they wouldn’t come back. I started to panic. I lost hope. I thought: I’m going to die here. What if the ceiling collapses? I prayed for my children’s future.

The firefighters came back five minutes later and dragged me out. They dropped me on the stairs. There’s a picture of me being carried out of the building. You can see how scared I am from my face.

The council put me and my three children in a hotel that did not have a wheelchair-accessible bathroom. They said that if I needed to go to the toilet, I should wear nappies. But I wanted to have dignity. After a year and a half, I was moved to temporary accommodation, but the kitchen hadn’t been adapted for me. I had to use a cooking hob that was placed on a table.

Now, we live in a ground-floor flat in Kensington. There’s damp and mould in the flat. The hob kept catching fire; it took years for it to be replaced. Although the council did adapt the flat for me, it doesn’t meet my needs. I can’t reach into the fridge, or load the washing machine, or open the cupboards from my wheelchair. I can’t reach the bathroom sink to wash my hands.

No matter how much I complain, it feels like Kensington and Chelsea council doesn’t listen. I’m not asking for much, just basic health and safety. A kitchen and bathroom that I can use. It makes me feel disgusted. It takes such a long time to get anything fixed and they fight me all the way.

I want to try to get out of my house, but it’s hard with my disabilities. The lift in my local community centre isn’t working, for example. I’ve asked the council if they can repair it, but they told me it wouldn’t be possible. I feel isolated.

A spokesperson for Kensington and Chelsea council acknowledged that “there were significant failings in how the aftermath of the fire was handled and [the council] has detailed these in its responses to the public inquiry. We apologise for the impact we know this had on the bereaved and survivors.”

The council stated that it was “committed to helping everyone find a home that feels like a home for life” and that residents who were unable to settle in their new homes would receive additional support. With respect to Mariko Toyoshima-Lewis’s property, a council spokesperson said that it had invested more than £100,000 in accessibility modifications including adjustable countertops, an adjustable dining table and electric windows.

In a statement, the former Kensington & Chelsea Tenant Management Organisation (KCTMO) said: “The inquiry’s investigations are ongoing and the inquiry has not yet reached any conclusions regarding these issues. It would therefore be inappropriate for KCTMO to respond to any further allegations made and to do so could potentially undermine the inquiry’s investigations.

“The Grenfell Tower fire was a terrible human tragedy, and everyone associated with the KCTMO continues to give their deepest sympathies and condolences to the bereaved, the survivors and their families.”