‘I have a good feeling about this place,’ Moira had announced. ‘I think we should sleep on the beach and save our money for food and travel. The gods will look after us.’

And so they had. And the gods had done their bit. No one stole their luggage or paid them any unwelcome attention. And they had agreed on one other thing.

‘Basic rule of adventure,’ Dora had grinned round at the other three. ‘Never tell your parents. At least, not until you get home!’

‘Can you imagine what my parents would say if they knew I was sleeping on the beach?’ Penny had giggled.

Nell had only met Penny’s parents a few times, Dora maybe once. They were the backbone of the tennis club, the golf club and the church flower rota.

None of them knew Moira’s parents – a housewife and a father who was an evangelical preacher. ‘My dad would have me crucified,’ Moira said.

‘I hope that’s a metaphor,’ shuddered Dora, who came from Wembley, which although suburban was close enough to London to have some of its reflected gloss.

‘I just won’t ever tell mine,’ Nell had announced, and ditched Sevenoaks and all it stood for forever.

‘Oh my God!’ Moira woke up with a start. ‘I slept right through Ios!’

‘Maybe just as well,’ consoled Penny. ‘It might have been a big disappointment.’

‘Yes,’ seconded Dora, ‘it’s probably more stag night from Basildon than jolly nymphs and shepherds.’

As they fought their way up the stairs through the throngs of heavily laden locals and stood on the deck in the pale morning sunshine, they were stunned to find a giant cruise ship moored in the harbour behind them.

‘Look at the size of it!’ Nell marvelled. ‘We never saw any of those before.’

The harbourside was almost as packed as Piraeus. Huge groups of Chinese tourists thronged all along the quay deciding which boat trip to take, and behind them a row of about thirty cafes were all full to bursting.

None of them spoke as they looked round, trying to get their bearings and see at least something they recognized from their original visit.

Dora, eager to unpack and have a shower, hailed one of the larger taxis, and Penny gave the driver the address. Only she noticed the slight raise of the eyebrow as he registered the location of the house where they were to spend the next week. ‘Endaxi, ladies, OK, OK. No problem if you lose your handbag there. You are next to the police station.’

Moira thought this a strange comment, but decided to let it pass.

‘How has the weather been?’ asked Nell. The quintessential holidaymaker’s first question.

‘Too hot, kyria,’ the man replied over the sound of all his religious symbols knocking together as they dangled from the rear-view mirror. ‘Easter wet. Processions all happen in the rain and then the heat arrive and not go away.’