ISABELLA PURVES was last seen alive in 2004. Her routine had become familiar with her local community in the Canonmills area of Edinburgh: dressed in her hiking boots and laden with a rucksack, she would buy a copy of the Daily Mail with the minimum of conversational effort, and then go for a walk.

And then she disappeared, aged 85. In the brief moments since, when locals wondered where she went, they always came to the conclusion she'd moved.

That was until Purves' body was found last week. Police believe she died five years ago in her tenement flat, but went undiscovered until a leak was reported to the council.

Anyone looking for a community racked with grief yesterday over the apparent neglect of a neighbour would be better looking elsewhere. There is shock at how long she lay undiscovered, mail piling up three-feet deep at her door, but not much soul searching.

"It may appear that with that lady lying dead for so long that this community isn't close knit," said Cleo Gifford, a 34-year-old bar worker who used to live in the same stairwell as Purves. "But there wasn't really anyone who knew her. Another elderly person passed away on this street and there was a huge turn-out for that.

"People will say, no-one looked out for her, but I don't think she wanted to be reached out to. But the area has changed. Not just this area, but other areas have as well."

Canonmills is a pocket of tenement flats between the Georgian terraces of the New Town and the leafy mansions of Inverleith Row. Like most city centre neighbourhoods, flats that once housed families are now rented by students, pensioners and young professionals.

In many ways the changes Canonmills has undergone are no different to any city centre neighbourhood.

One consistent feature for more than 20 years has been Hershaws hairdressers, opposite Purves' flat. Leslie Forster, 40, has worked there for 16 years. She said the biggest change happened when a major supermarket opened nearby.

"Tesco changed things," she said. "There used to be a butcher's, baker's, we had everything, and you would just meet people. Having a supermarket makes things less personal."

Forster, like many local shop keepers, knew Purves. They would exchange polite, perfunctory words many years ago, but that was it. In the words of one long-time resident, Purves "kept herself out of everyone's sight and everyone's mind. That was how she wanted it".

Ironically, several totems of a closely knit, established community lie within a minute's walk from Purves' front door: three churches and three pubs.

Signs of change are also evident. One shop has signs in Polish and English. The local primary has been converted into flats. Prices begin at £200,000.

Giovanni Cilia, 59, runs Fioritalia, a florists, underneath Purves' flat. He has lived here for 20 years.

"People do know each other," he said, "but I am Italian and in Italy the friends, the relationships are much deeper. For me it is not enough here."

Around the corner from Purves' flat, two foreign residents of Canonmills are preparing a barbecue. Jason and Lisa Derr moved to Edinburgh four years ago from Seattle in the US and Sweden respectively. They help their elderly neighbour with her rubbish, but admit to little contact with most others.

"Back home we lived in a neighbourhood of 60 houses, so if you had a house party everyone was invited," said Jason, 33. "Everyone went to school together so everyone knew each other growing up. Here, I know who my neighbour is across the street but haven't a clue what his name is."

"I'm from a farm in the middle of nowhere," said Lisa, 24. "There were maybe three other farms in the area. When someone's cattle would run away everyone would help get them back."

What emerges is not a picture of a community riven with neglect or selfishness, but rather of an independent woman whose death went unnoticed because it fell through the gaps of a changed Scottish society. Pensions are no longer collected in person, neighbours can change on an annual basis, and family are frequently distant.

Sadly, according to Age Concern and Help The Aged in Scotland, the newly merged charity for the elderly, cases such as Purves' will become more frequent.

"There are more single older people and more transient populations," said Lindsay Scott. "There is not an awful lot you can do about it unless we can get back that sense of community there used to be a couple of generations ago, even 20 years ago. People tend to keep themselves to themselves, don't want to seem to be nosy. Maybe its a product of the me' generation. I even see it. Growing up I knew everyone on the street. Now I hardly know anyone."