‘How is your dad? Takis, wasn’t it?’ They all thought of the charming Takis, who, despite a face that looked like a Greek Mr Bean and his habit of wearing crumpled linen shirts and shorts, had won them over at once with his friendly hospitality.

Yorgos grinned like a madman. ‘Takis! Yes! He has gone to Kyri. My brothers and I run this place now.’

‘Where is Kyri?’ Moira asked.

‘A dot in the ocean, full of goats and relatives. Best to keep far away. Where are you staying?’

Penny started to look anxious again. ‘At the back of the town. A nice house big enough for four,’ Nell supplied swiftly.

‘Have you been to Lefkas? Is entirely new part of Zanthos. Not enough room in the town for tourists, so they develop Lefkas. For the young people. Now, you must stay here for the day as my guests!’

‘Well . . .’ Penny began.

‘Brilliant,’ interrupted Dora. ‘We’d love to.’

‘And you must eat with us also. I will tell my wife to let my brothers know. She will cook you a wonderful lunch! Yassas, famous English ladies.’

‘Did you hear that?’ Moira commented. ‘Tell his wife to cook. Some things don’t change.’

‘Don’t complain,’ Dora reprimanded her. ‘This is a definite improvement. Lunch here with Yorgos and his brothers, back to the house for a siesta, and then tonight let’s go and see this Lefkas place.’

‘Didn’t he say it was for young people?’

‘Come on, Penny, we’re only going to look at it,’ Dora said. ‘A couple of cocktails and you can be back in bed with a nice cup of cocoa.’

Penny settled back on her sunbed under an umbrella, refusing to rise to Dora’s comment. She wasn’t as silly and naive as Dora was making her out to be. And anyway, maybe now they’d met Yorgos, things weren’t so bad after all.

‘Do you have a changing room?’ Dora asked him.

He nodded enthusiastically. ‘Not like when I was a child and we had to lock the toilet to keep the hippies out!’

Dora strode off to put on her bikini. No unseemly messing about with towels in the great British holidaymaker tradition for her.

The individual changing rooms were clean and well lit. They even had locks. As Dora stripped off her dress and delved into her bag for her bikini, her eye was caught by a copy of Vanity Fair left by a previous guest. She sat down as if she had been suddenly winded.

On the cover was a large photograph of Venus Green. Venus Green, blonde and beautiful winner of a reality TV show, budding megastar with a voice and personality like a young Kylie Minogue.

Venus Green, whose PR, best friend and mentor Pandora Perkins had been for the last five years. Until the little bitch had dropped her three weeks ago and appointed a rival thirty years younger.