Exhilarated, hair thrashing more wildly than ever, Clancy strode to the handrail that marked the beginning of Zig-zag Path, pausing to drink in the full glory of the view. Sea, sea, sea, right to the curved horizon. Catching the sun’s rays and tossing them into a million dancing lights, the waves ran constantly, restlessly inshore. To catch sight of the swaying reed beds and winding creeks of the salt marsh between Nelson’s Bar and Brancaster she had to swivel to her right and look almost behind her. The Nelson’s Bar headland seemed to have erupted through the gentle, flat scenery all around it, right out into the sea.

At Clancy’s feet the handrail zigged and zagged steeply down, out of sight after the first few sharp bends. She gave in to its lure, her feet slapping the ground as she followed it down, the sea closer with every step, the hiss and crash of the waves louder.

At last she reached Zig-zag Beach, a triangle of pale sand gritty with countless broken seashells. For several minutes she watched as the waves chased each other up the beach almost to the high tide mark of tossed seaweed, then fell back with a disappointed tshhhhhh into the giant blue and white canvas of the sea. The gulls called to her like lost souls, riding the wind on their perfect wings, then they moved off as if realising she had no food to share.

It didn’t take her long to explore the beach, turning pungent heaps of kelp with her toe, shells crunching beneath the soles of her trainers, but as she breathed in the briny air she was filled with a oneness with the place, almost a feeling of belonging. Or just longing?

Finally, she began back up the path.

She’d toiled to the halfway point, the muscles of her calves pulling, when she was surprised by sounds from behind her and two panting teenaged lads in dripping board shorts jogged up to overtake her.

‘Hello. ’Scuse,’ said the lead boy, sprinkling chilly seawater as he passed. His dark curls were a bit like Aaron’s. The second boy’s hair was slicked back against his head. He grinned, and puffed past her too.

‘Hello,’ she said to their departing backs. Where the hell had they appeared from? Intrigued, she followed as their bare feet picked a way through grit and stones until, at the top of the path, they swung right. Clancy was just able to keep them in sight as they ran a hundred yards to where there was a dip in the clifftop, pausing to confer as they backed away from the edge.

Then, with Tarzan yells, they sprinted right off the top of the cliff, arms windmilling for balance as they plummeted from view.

Shocked into action, Clancy broke into a run, hardly feeling her feet touch ground until she reached the spot where the boys had vanished. Cautiously, she peered over the cliff edge, almost dizzy with relief – or at the way the sea swirled below – to see two heads bobbing in the waves.