Takis rushed out and started to pick up the debris. ‘Ariadne!’ he commanded. ‘This is not the time. Help me with this mess.’

Still white-faced with anger, she bent over the broken glasses and started to pick them up.

‘I will replace them instantly,’ Takis apologized.

‘Don’t worry,’ Dora whispered to the professor. ‘Tomorrow we’ll go on a boat and I’ll show you where I think she could be hidden.’

Ariadne, whose hearing was sharpened by years of listening out for goats wandering off to distant parts, lifted her head fractionally and looked at them.

‘I’m so sorry you can’t get anywhere with the authorities,’ Penny said softly to Nikos. ‘I know how frustrating that must be.’

‘It is,’ he replied, his eyes softening. ‘My power means so little, it seems. Thank you for understanding.’

Marigold watched the interchange intently. Suddenly she grabbed the baby back from Nell, on whose knee she had been sitting happily. ‘Aren’t you at least a little shocked by your friend’s behaviour?’ she whispered to Nell in an almost-audible tone. ‘I mean, she has a perfectly nice husband at home. And here she is making a spectacle of herself. At her age, too,’ she added spitefully.

‘I’m really not sure it’s any of my business,’ Nell replied crisply. ‘And it certainly isn’t any of yours.’

‘Oh, really?’ Marigold reached for her bag, got out her purse and slapped down a ridiculously large amount of euros. ‘I’m not sure I should be colluding in this. There are certain things one should take a moral stance about. I find I’m not hungry after all. Here’s our contribution. Goodnight!’

Marigold swept off towards the taxi rank by the harbour.

‘I’d better follow her, Mum,’ Willow apologized. ‘I know she can be a pain in the arse, but she is Ollie’s mum. I’m sure she doesn’t mean it.’

Nell watched the departing figures. ‘And good riddance,’ she muttered to no one in particular. ‘Now we can start to enjoy ourselves.’

The next morning, Dora and Karl met in a cafe by the harbour and looked at the small row of boats offering day trips round the island. They waited deliberately for the popular ones to leave and headed for a rather dilapidated vessel whose skipper looked as if he’d be happier in the bar than on a boat. His fisherman’s jersey had more holes than a string vest, and his eyes were distinctly rheumy and red from a hard night’s drinking.

‘Really?’ asked Karl dubiously, eyeing the better-maintained little boats leaving the harbour. ‘Are you sure?’

‘Really,’ asserted Dora. And then, softly, though it was unlikely the skipper spoke much English, ‘He’ll be happy to go wherever we want him to, and there are no other passengers to get in the way.’