The retirement village that became a ghost town

Saturday, 13 December 2025

On this quiet street near Hagley Park, the decorative green letterboxes carry a message: “Resident Away.'

The surrounding gardens, once clipped and lush, have grown shabby with nettles and weeds. A stray cat prowls the grounds, and a shag has picked off the goldfish left in an ornamental pond.

Just four months ago, the Margaret Stoddart Retirement Village in Riccarton housed around 60 people and a full complement of staff. Today, it is home to just a handful of residents locked in negotiations with Ryman Healthcare, one of New Zealand’s largest retirement operators.

The company announced in August it was closing the rest home care facilities at Margaret Stoddart and its Woodcote village, two of its oldest developments. Built in the early-1990s, neither offered a full range of care, and the buildings were past their best.

It followed the death of Elisabeth Nicholls, who was found dead in an empty house after leaving Margaret Stoddart on the day she was admitted. The closure was unrelated, but it capped off a difficult few months for village residents and staff.

First to hear the news were the 40 residents of the care facility. A company letter assured them, “We understand that this village is your home and community, and we are committed to supporting you with care, respect, and honesty as we work through this change together”. Over the next eight weeks, they would be moved elsewhere.

The remaining 20 residents, who lived independently in surrounding villas, were told soon afterwards.

The Press has spoken to several current and former Margaret Stoddart residents about what followed and their concerns with how it was handled by Ryman Healthcare.

In a statement provided to The Press, Ryman’s chief operating officer Marsha Cadman said the company had taken a “respectful, resident-focused approach” to closing the facilities.

Affected care residents were “offered resettlement at more modern Ryman villages in Christchurch, or another location of their choice, at no financial cost”.

“Ryman has supported residents throughout the move, covering moving costs and offering additional financial assistance for related expenses, including legal fees.”

‘Closure by attrition’

News of the closure left the residents dumbstruck. “Everybody was just stunned,” recalls one former resident, who did not want to be named.

Initial shock turned to unease. Because they held occupation-rights agreements, the independent residents could not legally be evicted. Ryman promised they could stay with existing services intact, but warned that changes would follow the departure of staff and care residents.

What followed was a slow decline — what one resident called “closure by attrition”.

Ryman confirmed it would not re-sell any currently empty villas, nor any that later became available. Faced with a fading community and no option to move into a higher level of care if required, most independent residents chose to move, leaving a handful behind.

The result is oddly surreal. The main building, once a hive of activity, is mostly vacant and staffed by a single receptionist day and night.

Services continue, but in skeleton form. Exercise classes, once drawing more than a dozen participants, now muster five, soon to be two. One Friday happy hour drew about six people, including the hired guitarist. The most recent event attracted four.

The kitchen is closed. Those wanting a freshly cooked roast dinner must make do with a reheated frozen meal.

One remaining resident, Raewyn Idoine, compared the village to the forsaken hotel in The Shining.

“It’s like living in a ghost town,” she says. “It’s just weird.”

Like for like

Ryman told residents they could move to other villages on a “like for like” basis. Their weekly fees would remain the same, and moving costs would be covered.

Residents would be matched to new units by size, though if a home was deemed an “upgrade”, they might be asked to pay the difference.

Idoine, a retired businesswoman and director, moved to Margaret Stoddart in 2022. She expected to keep to herself: she was waiting to move to a planned Ryman development on Park Tce across Hagley Park. After years of delays, that project was abandoned this year.

The tight-knit community won her over. She grew fond of her north-facing, three-bedroom villa with all-day sun and an internal-access garage. News of the closure blindsided her.

“It was a complete bombshell,” she says. “Everyone here was in absolute panic mode. People were having palpitations. It was horrendous.”

Not wanting to live in a “derelict village”, she toured other facilities and chose a two-bedroom apartment at the newer Kevin Hickman village in Broomfield, on the outskirts of the city. She was later told it was no longer available. She was shown, and accepted, another unit directly above it but says she was not told the price.

Two months passed. Most of her neighbours had left. Ryman booked a moving date, but Idoine says she still had no contract and no price. During that time she underwent a heart procedure and suffered complications that kept her in hospital for nearly a week. With the care facility at Margaret Stoddart closed, her daughter flew from London to help her through recovery.

The day after she was discharged, Ryman asked her to sign a contract if she was to move that same week. Only then, she says, did she learn the apartment was considered an upgrade and that she would need to pay $170,000.

She had already given her curtains away, and some of her belongings were boxed up. But she refused to sign.

“They showed me the apartment. I chose it. No one else has had to pay the difference, and they all of a sudden think they can charge me $170,000? I don’t f**king think so.”

She says it was emblematic of a process that lacked compassion. Care residents were moved within days of the announcement. Some left in taxis with their possessions in the boot. She had heard from residents whose belongings were left unpacked in their new units.

“I’m a hardened, tough old cow, and I can cope with anything in life, but I can’t believe how emotional and fragile this process has been,” she says.

“I'm just pissed off. I've not wanted to upset people, but it's gone too far now.”

‘I’m not moving’

Geoff Price has carried on at Margaret Stoddart even as it empties around him. A long-time Riccarton resident, he values the short walk to restaurants and bus routes. The nearby park is “heaven” for his dog.

He came to the village following a medical scare because he wanted to stay local. He doesn’t want to go to a larger village elsewhere in the city.

“I'm not moving,” he says. “I was 70 when I moved here, and I will make the next decision on my location at age 80. I'm currently 72.”

He has a generator and is prepared to use it if the electricity is cut off.

Price says the closure process left residents shaken. There was no prior consultation; they were simply told what was happening and left to absorb the shock. Like others, he had watched the impact on some of his former neighbours and the staff.

“The way it was done instigated an atmosphere of fear,” he says. “I can’t believe how badly this has been handled. It's terrible for older people, having to be uprooted and shunted out…. There are people who have just been traumatised.”

Like other residents who spoke to The Press, he praised the village staff who themselves were impacted by the closures, and said his concerns were with upper management.

Another resident, who asked not to be identified, knows the upheaval well. She had moved to Margaret Stoddart after her previous village was closed.

She expected to stay only temporarily while the planned Park Tce complex was built. She nevertheless came to appreciate its proximity to the city and the freedom of not needing to drive.

She says she was offered a choice of two replacement units at the new Kevin Hickman village, but neither felt right: one faced a busy thoroughfare, and the other looked straight into a brick façade.

She will now spend the Christmas holidays living in a “ghost village,” suspended between staying and leaving. Like Price, she worries about the effect it has had on the more vulnerable residents.

“For those people to just pick up and move has been horrendous,” she says. “I don’t think that people should be able to treat the old like this.”

The cost of leaving

It is rare for a retirement village to be closed by choice.

Nigel Matthews, chief executive of the Retirement Village Residents Association, said the group did not hear of situations like this often.

“By and large we get very few complaints of this nature,” he says.

“In most situations, operators are very good. Clearly, it appears some have fallen through the cracks with this one.“

Contributing to the issue is the pricing structure of retirement village units. Independent residents typically pay an entry fee equivalent to the price of their unit. When they leave, they are refunded the amount minus a “deferred management fee”, typically capped between 20 and 30%. They do not receive any capital gain.

The result is a significant loss of purchasing power. If a resident buys in for $500,000 and stays five years, they may leave with only $350,000. While house prices in the outside market — and in other villages — have risen, their capital has shrunk.

It matters less if a person dies, but makes it difficult to move between operators.

Asked to respond to the residents’ claims, Ryman Healthcare’s statement from Marsha Cadman said that it had been a “difficult decision” to close the care centres.

She said that because the closure “did not affect independent living at these villages”, no independent resident was asked to move. The company had supported any requests to relocate to more modern villages.

“We have taken a consistent approach across all resettlements and resident requests, and we are proud of the respectful, resident-focused approach taken throughout this process.“

As Christmas approaches, former residents of Margaret Stoddart are settling into new lives across the city. Some are at Kevin Hickman, a 20-minute drive away. Others have gone to villages in Beckenham and Papanui. Idoine has been keeping track and plans to hold a reunion next year.

Shortly before publication, Ryman Healthcare contacted her to address her concerns, and a resolution may be forthcoming.

She says it should not have come to this, and was not just about her.

“This is a much bigger issue,” she says. ‘The whole thing was just not handled properly.“