A boy called Tom was walking home from his club when it started to pour. He was getting soaked, with a fair way still to go, when a car slowed beside him. It was an adult he sort of recognised — a friend's parent, maybe — offering him a lift out of the rain. It was a genuinely kind offer, and the warm dry car looked lovely. But his family had a clear rule about getting in cars, and nobody knew where he was. The person was probably completely fine. Tom stood in the rain, the door open, weighing a small certain discomfort against a rule that suddenly felt awkward to follow.