Ten minutes later, they were striding uphill, panting and perspiring. ‘Slow down!’ Shelly cried.

‘I can’t. We have an appointment. We’re running out of time. Come on!’ he called, taking her hand and tugging her onward and upward. They staggered up steps, panted up pathways, and blazed up backstreets too steep for cars or scooters. Finally, they arrived at the top of the hill and from outside the great monastery of St George, they looked down on the harbour town of Ermoupoli and the port of Syros.

‘What an amazing view! Have I got time to take some photographs?’

‘Not now, we’re late,’ Harry said quietly. ‘Whatever happens next, I want you to understand that I have done this with your best interests at heart.’

Shelly nodded. ‘I understand, but what have you done?’

‘You’re about to find out.’ He knocked on the great oak door, and after a moment, it was heaved open by a hooded monk. ‘Father, this is Shelly Summer, great-granddaughter of Gertrude Smith who died in 1998.’

‘Welcome. Please follow me,’ the old abbot said, lifting his head enough for them to see a clean-shaven chin and a kind mouth below his cowl. They followed him through the most beautiful church with cream marble columns and stunning murals on the walls that depicted religious scenes. After the church, they passed through cloisters to a row of monks’ cells, and Shelly noticed one with the door slightly ajar. ‘Please go in,’ the abbot said.

Harry held his arm out, inviting Shelly to enter first. Her nerves jangled.

‘Don’t be afraid,’ Harry said as she peered at the wizened monk sitting in an armchair, inside. ‘Shelly Summer, I’d like you to meet your grandfather, Adam Smith.’

Shelly gasped. ‘My grandfather, Adam? Gran Gertie’s son? Oh, my goodness!’ Completely overwhelmed, she felt her tears rise as she dropped to her knees at his feet. ‘Grandad Adam, this is a miracle, to meet you after all these years of wondering what happened to you.’

Suddenly, she realised the truth. Gertie believed this was her punishment, to have her son taken from her. To believe he was dead, and then discover he had become a monk.

Shocked and confused, she turned to Harry. ‘How did you find him?’

‘I didn’t. I’ve always known him, but didn’t make the connection until I heard Gran Gertie’s tape. I told you an English architect saved my father’s life by pushing him out of danger, but the architect was badly injured himself.’ Shelly nodded. ‘That man was Adam. He was in a coma for a long time, and had no memory when he finally regained consciousness. The monks adopted him, and as he recovered, some of his memory slowly returned over the years; then, he decided to join the order.’