As mothers we never dare to delve into our worst-nightmare scenarios. What if we might murmur to each other, and then shake our heads, telling ourselves itll never happen to us if were just good enough mothers. Yet here we are. And the steady beep of the heart monitor is the only evidence the child in front of us is aliveIts Labor Day weekend, so of course we went to the beach. Like we do every year. For a barbecue picnic with my best friend Rose. Its the perfect traditiondrinks, games, burgers, music, laughter. Together with our husbands, my two teenage sons and her two daughters, we all arrived as the sun was still shimmering over the water, the whole evening ahead of us.But nothing goes to plan. Old secrets emerge, tempers flare. And so we parents decide to leave the beach, telling the teenagers to enjoy themselves, reassuring them someone will be back to collect them in an hour or two. But when I return a little while later, I know something is really wrong. Our teens are slurring their words, stumbling to the car. Its clear they have been drinking and Im shocked. I never expected our kids to behave this way. Im bracing myself to have firm words with them in the morning, but the next day my concerns fade to nothing, when seventeen-year-old Bella claims my son Finn assaulted her. Finn insists he would never do that. And I so want to believe him. Because I brought my son up right. Because a mother would know, wouldnt she? What I dont know is that the answer to what happened that night on the beach may be a matter of life and death for one of our beloved children
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