She gets on the bus in her school uniform, and her backpack is almost as big as she is. Careful blonde ponytail with a white ribbon, starched socks (the long ones but rolled down because she’s not a rebel or a goody-two-shoes), pale blue checks, skinny wrists and Mary Janes. REM’s ‘Losing My Religion’ is creeping through the speakers when the drivers change over, the bus thrumming under a canopy of European green. The new driver cranks the volume and Taylor Swift comes blasting down the aisle Shakin’ it Off. We both bob or heads slightly, self-consciously, and my shoes start to feel too big for my feet and the seat I am in is swallowing me. I want to lean forward, conspirational, and tell her everything will be ok, but what do I know.