He looked a little hurt and stared at the table. ‘Of course, sorry.’ Another awkward silence. ‘I don’t suppose you’d help me with Pat, you almost being a vet and all.’

‘No, no!’ She shook her head. His shoulders went up again and she remembered he was hurting too. ‘I mean, yes, I really would like to help with your dog, but I’m not almost a vet. I haven’t even started training yet.’

He let out a sigh. ‘Great, thanks, that’s really ace.’

*

‘Shelly, tea!’ Eve called from the back of the surgery. ‘Shelly! Did you hear me? What’s up with you today? You seem distracted.’

‘Ah, sorry, daydreaming, didn’t sleep too well.’

‘Want to talk about it?’

‘No thanks. It’s just something I heard, playing on my mind. I’ll buckle down to the lab results. Do you have anything special on?’

‘Nothing I can’t handle. Have you booked your holiday yet?’ Shelly shook her head. ‘Well, please do hurry up. I’m waiting to book mine but can’t until you’re sorted. If you can’t decide which island to visit, why not book for Athens and you can simply go on from there?’

‘I’ll do it today, promise.’ She thought about DJ and swore to herself. She’d phone him after work. No more putting it off. Her mouth dried just at the thought. What could he want after all this time?

Through Google, Shelly discovered the Britannic sank in 1916 and now lay just over a mile from the small Greek island of Kea. She wished she’d taken notes while listening to Gertie’s cassette. What year did Gertie board the Britannic? She’d check the moment she got home.

Was it possible to dive the ship? Wouldn’t that be amazing? She YouTubed the wreck, then Kea, and explored the island online. Wouldn’t it be great to fulfil all her holiday requirements in one convenient location? Was there a dive outfit on the island? Yes! Now she longed to be there. However, it wasn’t on the tourist trail and hadn’t an airport. She’d have to fly to Athens, and take the fifty-minute ferry to Kea. She hesitated; it was the end of May, the start of the egg-laying season for turtles all over Greece. Before listening to Gran Gertie’s tape, she had considered Zakynthos, turtle beach, to photograph them, but with patience and good luck, it was possible to capture this phenomenon on any quiet sandy beach around early June.

When Eve saw Shelly log off for the day, she eagerly turned towards her. ‘So, have you booked?’ she asked. ‘Where’re you going?’

‘All done. Next weekend, the island of Kea, Greece.’