‘Aphrodite,’ she said with the slightest incline of her head. ‘Athene. Hermes. Delighted to see you.’

‘That makes one of us,’ replied Athene with an icy smile.

‘Hera, babe!’ grinned Hermes, flying down to kiss her hand. ‘Not being funny, but you are one haughty hot tamale.’

‘Charmed,’ said Hera, her eyebrow raising a fraction to show she was not displeased. Zeus knew this look and snorted in derision. Although he had to admit, if only to himself, that his son did have a point.

‘What rock have you been hiding under anyway?’ Zeus hissed at Hera as they stared each other down.

‘I believe you relinquished the right to know my whereabouts around the time you judged Miss World then married Miss Puerto Rico,’ said Hera, beginning to unpack her bag at the head of the table.

‘Actually,’ said Zeus, pushing his ex-wife’s belongings out of his space, ‘it was Miss Venezuela. Miss Puerto Rico was the runner-up.’

‘He married her six weeks later!’ giggled Aphrodite.

‘Stay calm, Father,’ whispered Athene, grabbing Zeus’s hand. ‘You know what she’s like. Don’t let her get to you.’

‘Right,’ said Hera, pulling one of two golden chairs from the head of the table. ‘Time to get started. Places, everyone.’

‘It’s just us,’ said Zeus, yanking the chair back out of her hands. ‘No one else has come. Yet.’

‘Is that so?’ scowled Hera, grabbing the chair back again. ‘Perhaps it was because you asked them?’

‘Oh, hush, you simpering shrew!’ said Zeus, seizing the chair that Hera now refused to relinquish. ‘I suppose you could have done a better job?’

Zeus could feel his former spouse pulling at the chair with surprising strength for one so slight. Their eyes locked for a moment in passionate loathing.

‘As a matter of fact,’ said Hera calmly, ‘I already have.’

‘Really?’

‘Really.’

And, without so much as a hair out of place, she suddenly let go, sending Zeus flying. He landed head first with the chair on his bottom and scraped what dignity he could off the floor. He turned to face her. This time there was no doubt about it. She was smiling.

‘YOU VICIOUS, HAG-FACED OLD—’

‘Come,’ Hera snapped, clapping her hands crisply.

‘You can’t command us as if we were dogs,’ said Athene, taking her place at the table.

‘If the collar fits,’ muttered Hera, as voices and footsteps blustered towards the hall. ‘Ah. They’re here.’

Zeus and his children saw a mass of bodies struggling to squeeze through the great golden doors at the same time.

‘How did you—?’ Zeus began, as his Olympian family bustled around the table.

‘Simple,’ said Hera, taking her place at his right-hand side. ‘I asked.’

‘Ye threatened us, more like,’ grumbled Poseidon, seating himself in a chair shaped like a shell. ‘Told me that if I didn’t come, ye’d boil me barnacles—’