She hefted several large stones and piled them against the cement behind the nest. After levelling the dip, she hurriedly kicked the flipper tracks flat and added her own footprints. No evidence of the turtle remained. She sat on the edge of the cement and scrabbled in the detritus at the bottom of her rucksack for a pen or marker. She found a bottle of scarlet nail varnish that Eve had insisted she try. Perfect! After making sure no one was paying attention, she daubed three large dots of polish onto the wall to mark the spot. She would return.

*

The town still slept, apart from some activity and subdued light coming from an alley that led off the quayside. Beach-side café lights went on. The smell of fresh bread reached her and she imagined the baker tipping racks of crusty cobs off oven trays. Moments later, a door opened, and the baker, rotund and wrapped in an enormous white apron, hefted a wicker basket of bread into the street.

‘Ela, psomi! Come, bread!’ he yelled. On hearing the cry, lights went on and women appeared, taking one or two loaves.

‘Kaliméra,’ they called to each other, their smiles as bright and sincere as their well wishes for a good day.

The scent of fresh bread made Shelly’s mouth water and her brain cry out for strong, rich coffee. In the shade of a magnificent mulberry tree, Shelly drank from a bottle of water to soothe her throat.

Again, she recalled that first holiday on the island of Syros, only remembering her childish delight of building sandcastles with her father. He had her running up and down the beach with buckets of water for the moat. There were ice creams, and warnings about not eating her dinner if she had one more! And of course, the sea. But if she really concentrated on taking her mind back, remembering how it was, then perhaps the hay fever that made Gertie sniffle and her eyes water was not hay fever at all. Did Gertie really go to her room every afternoon? Shelly suspected she would have to visit the island of Syros to find out the answers to her questions, or perhaps Gertie would reveal all on a later cassette.

Flat water in Kea’s bay glinted with a web of refracted sunlight, like a giant turquoise dreamcatcher holding down nightmares. Shelly could imagine Gertie’s terrible experience here, screams of terror and fear. In a blink the image disappeared, leaving nothing but peace and beauty.

The taverna owner’s eyes shifted her way as he unlocked the restaurant door, clearly surprised to see a stranger at his table before eight in the morning.

‘Kaliméra!’ he called, which she knew meant good morning. ‘One moment, I come.’