‘The capital, Hermoupoli, is dotted with churches and cathedrals, both Orthodox and Catholic. Majestic buildings of outstanding beauty and architecture tumble down the hillside and look out over the warm Aegean Sea. Among sponge divers and shipbuilders, and fishermen and florists, tavernas await with their gastronomic delights and amazing hospitality.’

She looked up again. ‘I’ve just thought, wasn’t Syros the island we all went to when I was a little girl?’

His eyes narrowed, peering into the depths of a distant memory.

‘My first holiday, Dad. You and Mum nearly wet yourselves laughing when Gran Gertie tucked her skirt into her knickers and held my hand while we paddled. Don’t you remember? I tripped and grabbed her skirt and nearly pulled her pants down.’ Shelly stopped and smiled. ‘There’s a photo somewhere.’ She studied his face, looking for some recall. ‘You bought a white hat that said KISS ME QUICK.’

A smile spread over Gordon’s face. ‘Oh . . . yes.’ The toast popped up.

‘I couldn’t read “quick”, remember, Dad?’ Overwhelmed by the happy memory, joy had been a rare visitor in that kitchen for so many years. She slathered her toast with butter and jam. ‘You’d ask, “What does my hat say, Shelly?” and I’d read so carefully, spelling it out. “Kiss – me—” and you’d sweep me up and kiss me all over and blow raspberries on my belly until we were all exhausted from squealing with laughter.’ Amused, then saddened, she remembered the big, generous man with a wide smile that her father was in those days.

They sat, lost in reminiscences, lonely in the brick cottage until Shelly continued. ‘I told Mum she looked like a film star in her white bikini and she said, “Thank you, you look like a princess in yours.” I can hear her voice . . .’ Silence united them again then Shelly said, ‘It’s an odd thing, Dad, but I’ve forgotten almost everything from before . . . you know, and then that holiday comes back as clear as day.’

Gordon grunted. ‘It was Gertie who insisted we went to that island, Syros. It was really important to her, like she was on a pilgrimage. On most days, she’d disappear after lunch, and return all red-eyed and clearly upset at dinner time. Your mum tried to get her to drink a strong cup of tea, to calm down.’

‘Wouldn’t she say where she’d been?’ Shelly asked.