‘What, boring goody-goody Penny? Penny in the Alice band?’

Nell thought of this morning, when she’d looked out her window and glimpsed Penny climbing alone onto Nikos’s boat, and smiled.

‘People aren’t always what they seem, you know. Me included.’

‘Come on, we’d better go and rescue Naomi from Marigold. She’s probably breastfeeding her by now.’

‘She doesn’t!’ Nell replied, shocked and repulsed.

‘No,’ giggled Willow. ‘But I do sometimes have to remind her, politely of course, that Naomi is my baby!’ She reached out her hands. ‘Come on, old Mum, let’s have a hug.’

Nell hugged her back, feeling blissfully happy. She didn’t grudge Penny her Nikos. Seeing more of Willow, and holding her little granddaughter in her arms at last, would be more than enough for Nell.

Dora finished putting on her makeup and checked herself in the wardrobe mirror. She had on her bronze off-the-shoulder number and, with her satisfyingly suntanned skin, decided she looked pretty good. She’d always tanned easily, and one slight benefit of getting older was that your tan seemed to last longer.

She got down her Mulberry shoulder bag and began to transfer makeup, hairbrush, wallet and room key into it. She didn’t know why she was going to all this trouble, since she was only having dinner with Karl. Still, he might be old but he was fascinating. He’d been involved in digs in Egypt, Syria – he’d almost wept when he described how beautiful Damascus used to be, the city of roses – as well as helping find Viking hoards closer to home in Staffordshire.

Downstairs she said good night to Cassandra, who was on reception, and handed over her key. They had decided to eat at a small restaurant round the bay rather than the usual one on the harbour.

Dora, always exactly ten minutes late, which she had decided was the required time to be cool without being rude, looked round the restaurant. It was charmingly chaotic, with a few wooden tables and chairs on one side of the narrow road to the harbour and others right on the beach. It had a play area put aside for children where numerous small people were bouncing up and down noisily. Dora decided Karl must have opted for the beach, probably to get away from the children, when an attractive older man with short, immaculately cut hair, wearing a smart pale blue suit, stood up and addressed her from an adjoining table.

‘Karl?’ she demanded, her jaw almost dropping at how different he looked.

‘Professor Karl Brinkley at your service, ma’am,’ he bowed.

‘What have you done to yourself?’

‘I decided if I was going to have dinner with a beautiful woman, I ought to make a bit of an effort. So I went to the barber. Greek barbers are the best in the world, you know. So then I had to get out a clean suit.’