On the table were a pile of presents and cards, fresh fruit and orange juice and she could smell croissants warming in the oven. She went down stairs and could hear that Rob and Sue were already up and busying themselves in the kitchen. Tasha pulled on her dressing gown from the back of the door (pink, of course, new for her when she arrived and very fluffy – probably Primark – she kept forgetting to check the label). They were kind and thoughtful and trying very hard to do the right thing. If she had been a boy they would have gone out and bought new.

She wondered if the foster carers had stipulated the sex to go with the room? Or maybe they had said gay or transgender fine too as we have pink curtains already? She snorted a laugh out loud. She could make out the chest of drawers, the desk piled high with her GCSE revision, the striped duvet fresh and clean and clearly bought to ‘match’ with the room – pink for a girl. The rose velvet curtains were slightly open allowing light to gently seep in, dust particles dancing in the glow. She had stopped having that ‘where am I’ thought that jolts you when you come too in a strange bed.