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She liked it there, laid back with no pressure and other kids passing through from time to time. Tasha had moved in with Jayne – a single carer who had fostered for many years and was ‘very experienced’. The more babies her mum had the easier the groupings became. Back then it was just her and the boys, an ‘awkward’ sibling group to place altogether. Tasha was the oldest by five years and had been ‘placed’ on her own when the children had first been removed. Here it came again, they were so kind and generous – how do you say “thank you but how the fuck do I fit seven brothers and sisters in one locket?” Tasha gave Sue and Rob an awkward hug and left them to interpret the tears in whichever way they wanted. Tasha felt tears prick the back of her eyes. We wanted you to have something to treasure forever”. “Sixteen is a very special birthday Tasha. It was a navy velvet jewelry box and inside was a beautiful gold locket. A couple of books (‘teen lit’ Sue had done her homework), some smellies from Lush, some pyjamas (from Primark – Tasha checked there and then) and a small package Sue was excited about her opening. Sue encouraged Tasha to move on to the presents – all wrapped meticulously in the same paper. And Rob and Sue of course, and Rob’s mum – which was nice. For Tasha it was like counting her chicks.
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They had all been helped with their cards to some extent – but they were all there. Ricky and Will who were living with Pam and Dave, Tara, Amy and Tillie who were with Rita and Richard, and the babies, Louis and Harrison who had been adopted but still allowed to send birthday cards and would meet up once a year as part of the ‘plan’.
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The reality was probably very different – which is partly why Tasha never planned to track her down.Īnd there they were. She imagined her living in a brightly painted cottage like on Ballamory, grey hair in a bun, a flowery apron on as she went about her chores, and freshly baked bread cooling on the table. Tasha had never met her but she was the one constant thread in the family, and she always remembered birthdays. There it was though, Aunt Esme’s hand writing all the way from Inverness – always C/O Social Services but it didn’t matter. Nothing from her gran, nothing from Jayne her previous foster carer – the list in her head went on. Nothing from her mother, obviously nothing from her father. The cards that weren’t there were like knives stabbing her heart. “Start with the cards” said Sue excitedly. It was in stark contrast to the birthdays that had come before – images flashed before Tasha’s eyes – she pushed them hurriedly away. She really did appreciate how hard they were trying. “Thanks! That’s lovely!” Tasha said, and meant it.
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“Happy birthday to you, happy birthday to you, happy birthday dear Tasha, happy birthday to you” they sang in awkward unison. 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.
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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.