“For minimum wage earners, Melbourne’s rental market is not an option,” he says. “Many better paid workers including teachers and nurses are also paying more than 30 per cent of their pay to their landlord.”

Last March, Justin Eastley injured his foot at work and lost his income as a self-employed handyman.

Soon after, the family were evicted from their home when the owner moved back in. They had no savings and no family in the state. They stayed with friends for a while, but Mr Eastley said they left so as not to be a burden.

When they weren’t sleeping in their car the family would use what money they had left to rent cheap motel rooms for the night, telling Lily they were going to stay in a castle.

The idea of sleeping in a different ‘castle’ every night was magical for Lily, but she soon started asking to sleep in the car — the only constant in their lives.

By day the family would sit for hours at the Frankston Community Crisis Centre trying to edge their way up the seemingly endless queue of people in need of crisis accommodation.

‘‘There’s so much shame associated with being homeless. You just feel like running away from it all — but you have a child so you fight for it, put absolutely everything into it and don’t give up until somebody takes notice.’’

The money Ms Cook earned as a part-time dance teacher was merely enough to afford food, but the dance school was an outlet for she and Lily.

‘‘It was an escape from reality,’’ she says. ‘‘The only place where we weren’t treated like we were homeless because nobody knew that we didn’t have a place to sleep that night.’’

After two months, she contacted Hanover Welfare Services and credits them with saving the family.

‘‘They took us in,’’ she says. ‘‘We were surrounded by people who understood what we were going through. One of the hardest obstacles to overcome when you have been homeless is getting your confidence back and reconnecting with society.’’

Like Hanover, the staff at Anchor find crisis accommodation and transitional and permanent housing.

But Lisa Stockheim says there is no quick fix to the housing crisis.

‘‘Low socio-economic high-rise apartments have failed in the past and are known for being hot spots for violence. But it needs to be acknowledged that there are many people living in this type of accommodation who are keeping their home well, who are just like anybody else.’’

Ms Stockheim says the key exists in creating community partnerships.

‘‘We look to local churches, community groups, businesses, local caravan parks where people can pitch their tent for the night. We have generous people in the community who open up their homes for the night.’’

Dandenong property developer Lennie Desouza agrees. He can’t understand why developers aren’t working in partnership with the Department of Housing Services and organisations like Hanover and Anchor.

Mr Desouza moved to Australia during the 1970s as an Indian migrant and says the experience of moving to a new land, where people have difficulty affording a home, ignited a desire in him to develop affordable housing.

He now leases and sells properties he has developed as cheaply as he can. He has given one of his Noble Park properties to Hanover to be used as transitional housing.

‘‘Developers need to be more flexible, more open to negotiating a price for the development.’’

Just before Christmas, Hanover moved Sarah, Justin and Lily into transitional housing in Hallam.

Today, a three-wheeler bicycle is parked out the front near a sign advertising Mr Eastley’s handyman business. Inside, photographs of Lily hang proudly on the walls. But for the family, rebuilding their life has just begun.

‘‘This is the first moment we’ve had to actually sit down and process what’s happened,’’ he says. ‘‘The most important thing I’ve learnt is not to be ashamed. This could happen to anyone. Shame makes you fall into the category of people who are forgotten.’’