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                  It occurred to her that the manifestation of the boy she saw on the clifftop may have been a memory of one of the youngsters who’d played such a crucial role in her own toddler years. She scanned the snapshots closely, but none of the other children looked remotely like him. These poor youngsters were bony and slightly bedraggled. Their pale faces had that haunted look of the unwanted. The boy she saw crawling amongst the tall grasses in the bright sunlight was plump, well-dressed and she was quite certain – loved.
                  When the doorbell rang, Marisa had finished her drink and was at the section of the album devoted to her life in Bristol. She was posed in smart school uniforms receiving prizes at her junior school and in her stripy leotard at gymnastic competitions.
                  Marisa opened the door to Sam Carter. He stood reluctantly on the threshold, a potted plant held in his hands. The simple gift contrasted oddly with his designer suit. ‘I don’t want to disturb you, Mrs Coleman.’
                  ‘Not at all, please come in. Is that for me?’
                  Sam thrust the geranium into her extended hand. ‘It was Talia’s choice.’
                  ‘It’s lovely. I’ll put it out on the patio later.’ Marisa led her guest into the kitchen. ‘I’ve just made a pot of coffee. Would you like one?’
                  ‘Yes please.’ He perched on one of the padded stools at the shiny breakfast bar, shrugging off his jacket. ‘I’ve just come back from visiting a client. He’s shown an interest in the new power cruiser we’ve got in production, but the guy is seriously hard work. He’s not yet signed over the deposit. The chaps at the boatyard need it for manufacturing costs.’
                  For the first time, Marisa considered how tough it must be for salespeople. You really were completely at the whim of others. She placed a cup of coffee on the bar in front of him.
                  ‘Thank you. I don’t want to cause you any bother. Eliot told me that the doctor prescribed plenty of rest.’
                  ‘Oh, I’m much better already, thanks. Lots of sleep and good food has already done the trick.’
                  Sam took a breath and ran a hand through his thinning hair. ‘The reason I came was to apologise.’
                  Marisa crinkled her forehead. ‘What on earth for? I should be thanking you.’
                  ‘Well, I realise you were acting on instinct by running after Ellie and Jack. You know how close your place is to the cliff edge. I can’t thank you enough for wanting to protect them. You must think Talia and I are shockingly bad parents.’
                  ‘Hardly.’ Marisa slipped onto the stool opposite, having poured herself another cup.
                  Sam gazed down at the sparkling white granite. ‘It’s just that Talia is on this independence kick at the moment. It seems as if she and the other mothers are in competition over who can give their kids the most freedom. Occasionally, it looks to me like they’re playing Russian roulette with their own toddlers’ safety. But if I make a move to intervene, Talia tears me off a strip for being a ‘helicopter parent’’.
                  ‘It sounds like a minefield.’ Marisa was struggling to be sympathetic but failing. These people were blessed with healthy children, surely it was common sense to protect them from danger when the situation warranted it. She made a silent resolution that she’d never give in to peer pressure when she’d been rewarded with her own baby. 
                  Sam was now watching her expression closely. ‘It was wrong of us to cause you unnecessary stress like that. The party must have been enough of a strain for you. No wonder