Atear rolls down Shama Omar’s face. She is describing the pain of her disabled daughter’s death last year, after 29 years of attentive care. It is a familiar tale of delays and stretched health service resources. “If the GP had seen her on that day, my daughter would have not died,” she says. Now, she is surviving on one cooked meal every two weeks, deciding on whether to pay for council tax, food or water next. “I need to take cancer medication, which gives me hot flushes but I can’t afford to have the fan on all the time,” says Omar. “I had to think whether to spend £4.60 for the bus here, that could have helped me make meals for two days.” Omar is among the millions waiting to see what further support government may offer for energy bills. On Friday, the industry regulator announced yet another rise in the price cap, pushing average household bills to £3,549 a year from October. By January, two-thirds of households in the UK are expected to be in fuel poverty. Omar sits across the table in a snug booth within a community centre in Leicester. The facility is run by the the Zinthiya Trust, which was founded by a charity worker, Zinthiya Ganeshpanchan, to alleviate poverty and provide support to survivors of domestic abuse. Its work is part-funded by the British Gas Energy Trust, which is increasingly working on helping its customers, and those of other suppliers, pay their gas and electricity bills, along with support in clearing debts and finding extra cash through benefits checks. In Leicester, it is immediately obvious that, while the soaring energy bills are often presented as a standalone issue, it is in fact just one in a stack of problems that are mounting up for many people who have complex circumstances. Part of the Zinthiya Trust’s work involves helping women escape domestic violence, providing emotional and practical support. Staff are even concerned about the costs of heating its safe houses. Around us, a coffee morning is just finishing – the women in attendance have studiously been crafting, drawing butterflies and flowers on canvas bags. Their children rattle round, as the school holidays draw into their final weeks. Outside, students from De Montfort University are celebrating their graduation in the sunshine, being snapped in their gowns. Inside, the unfolding horror of the reality of the cost of living crisis is becoming clearer. The community shop sells single toilet rolls at 60p, and pasta by the cupful, so tight are some budgets. The trust’s employees relate a cascade of gut-wrenching stories: the elderly person panicked by an incorrect energy bill that read £150,000; the indebted student from Syria caring for her sick brother struggling to pay for the warm temperatures he needs in their flat; the woman whose supplier refused to speak to her as the bills were in her abusive husband’s name. “I’m scared when anyone says ‘winter’,” says Ashy Gosai, who works for the trust, miming heart palpitations: “People are making that decision: do I feed myself or keep my household? Either way, there are going to be casualties. We live in a country where people want to come and set up shop, they want to start a new life and this is the life we’re giving our own people.” Her colleague Sherin Ali adds: “People also just need emotional support, a smile. It’s very difficult.” A few doors down, Sharon, Tracy and Gill, none of whom wanted their surname included, work in Zinthiya’s advice centre where they offer in-depth practical help to everyone from former offenders and survivors of abuse to those with severe mental health problems. Many of their clients are from south Asian backgrounds and need help interpreting communication from their energy company. Some do not realise that utilities need to be paid for. Some have already spent the first of two £326 cash payments for universal credit claimants that landed in July on school uniforms or days out. “It was too tempting for them not to spend it,” says Tracy through the Covid protective screen. She conducts much of her work while on endless hold calls to energy companies. Sharon says she is still frequently attempting to address problems arising from the collapse of scores of energy suppliers, which has clogged up advice lines and caused billing problems. As well as financial help, the trust is trying to get people to reduce their power consumption, through turning off appliances, fitting radiator reflectors and draught proofing. A stash of energy efficient lightbulbs greets visitors on arrival at the centre. Online advice to use microwaves to optimise power use has generally been ignored, says Ganeshpanchan. “Asian women do not want to cook baked beans,” she says, nodding at the nearby lentils in the shop. Firdos arrived speaking no English from India on a spousal visa in 2018. She shows me where on her wrist her husband used to grab her, describes his non-stop verbal abuse. “He kicked me out. It was very tough, I was completely dependent on him. The trust did everything for me – immigration, accommodation, food, benefits,” she says. The staff are clear that there is help available – from universal credit and housing benefit, to fuel vouchers and the warm home discount. “But it’s just not going to touch the sides this winter,” says Gosai. “As [the money-saving expert] Martin Lewis said, you get to a stage where there’s nothing left in your toolkit,” says Sharon. “That’s frustrating. You get to a situation where you can’t help people. You always find a way through but it’s becoming much more difficult.” Jessica Taplin, the chief executive of the British Gas Energy Trust, says the problem is not just about money. “Financial support this winter will be helpful but these are very complex lives,” she says. “Each family is different, aren’t they. It’s a web. Often the solution is quite transactional but it takes much longer than that – you don’t want to encourage dependency but equally you can’t pull back the carpet.” The government is waiting until after a new prime minister is installed on 5 September before unveiling significant fiscal support. For families suffering severe hardship, it cannot come soon enough.