Amelia had been rather subdued since going out to Falmouth with the other children the day before. (‘How was it? What did you get up to? Did you have a lovely time?’ Maggie had pressed, only to be met with a shrug and a set of abbreviated replies. It was okay. Not much. They were all right.) She’d probably found them a bit intimidating, Maggie imagined, seeing as they were a year or two older than her. Peer pressure could lead vulnerable younger ones into all kinds of trouble, as she’d seen at first hand, working as a secondary-school teacher. She just hoped Amelia had enough resilience to say no to any older teenagers trying to encourage her into bad behaviour.

‘We could wander inside to have a look at the underground magazine next,’ she went on brightly, striding across the tussocky grass. Out at sea, she noticed a cruise liner moving slowly through the water, plus a few sailing boats, and she found herself imagining cargo ships returning from faraway shores, full of gold and pearls and spices. ‘Did you know the word “magazine” has two meanings, by the way?’ she went on, just in case Amelia was confused by her suggestion. ‘In this instance it means . . .’

Amelia didn’t seem very interested in the issue of etymology, though. ‘Um, so, Mum, anyway, I’ve got something to tell you,’ she blurted out just then, interrupting Maggie’s explanation.

‘Oh,’ said Maggie, disconcerted. She pulled her jacket around her a little tighter – that sea breeze was quite something. ‘What is it?’

‘Just that I’ve been in touch with Dad lately,’ Amelia said, the words dropping like – well, like a whole magazine of weapons, frankly, Maggie thought to herself in horror. What? ‘And – yeah. Basically, I want to meet him.’

It suddenly felt like the most enormous effort to breathe. Maggie stared at Amelia’s perfect cupid’s-bow mouth as she said these impossible words, the wind whipping long strands of dark hair around her face, like Medusa’s snakes.

‘Mum,’ prompted Amelia. ‘Now you need to say something.’

‘I . . .’ Maggie cast about wildly, but the words simply weren’t forthcoming. Amelia had been in touch with Will and wanted to meet him, she told herself, incredulous. She glanced over her shoulder as if half-expecting him to come striding over towards them from the gift shop. The trouble with you, Maggie . . .