‘A massive beam fell from the roof, my father’s friend ran forward and pushed him out of the way, but unfortunately, his friend caught the end of the beam on his head and was badly hurt with a fractured skull. He was in a coma for a long time, everyone thought he would die, but eventually he made it.’ Harry stared at the window. ‘My parents sort of adopted him. I forget his real name, but we called him Theio, which is Greek for uncle. The blow left him with poor vision, and not a lot of sense.’ Harry smiled fondly. ‘He was a simple soul, always fun, and good-humoured too. We all loved him.’

‘What happened to him?’

‘When my parents got older and couldn’t look after him, they paid the monks at the convent, on Syros, to take care of him. Theio loved the churches. Sometimes we’d take him to one and he’d just sit there, smiling and gazing at the candles and the gold chandeliers, but most of all he loved the icons, especially the virgin and child. He would kneel before it and gaze up with the most adoring expression.’

‘What a moving story. Did they find his family?’

‘Theio wouldn’t allow it, he would rather they believed him dead than burden them. We should go to Syros one day and lay some flowers on his grave.’

‘He died?’

‘I’d think so. I haven’t seen him since I was a boy, and he was an old man then. I guess he’d be near a hundred now. My parents and grandparents are long gone. I mean, there are lots of hundred-year-old Greeks, believe me. You just have to go into any village kafenio to see them sipping their morning coffee – but come on, what are the odds?’

*

Before long, they left the bus in the centre of Athens. Harry’s excitement was contagious. In a taxi to the foot of the Acropolis, he muttered statements like: ‘The cradle of Western civilisation,’ and ‘The birthplace of democracy.’ On top of the great flat rock, Shelly stood in awe under the magnificent columns that skirted the Parthenon. She photographed everything. Harry led her around the walls where they looked down on the city and pointed out landmarks. She zoomed in, knowing the enjoyment she would get from her pictures later.

Harry studied his watch. ‘Eleven thirty, quick, we’re running late! We have to get back to Syntagma Square for something very special!’

They raced down to the street, jumped on a packed bus without a ticket and hoped an inspector didn’t get on. When he did, they squeezed through the other passengers and got off from the middle doors, laughing like naughty children. A short taxi ride took them to the houses of parliament.

‘You’ll have to jump out at the lights, is not allowed to stop now because the Evzones are changing guard,’ the taxi driver said.