‘She is, and you know she is. You’re too nice, Penny. Always were. Though, thinking about it, that is the only reason I’m here today.’ She turned to Wendy. ‘I wasn’t really part of the magic circle, you see. It was Nell, Dora and your mum. But she still asked me to come. And think about it, Karl – if she hadn’t, you would never have met Dora.’ Dora and Karl exchanged tender looks. ‘Oh enough, enough! Karl’s my old mate from Cambridge. I’ve been teaching classics there ever since.’

‘And will she let us forget it?’ Dora quipped. ‘No chance of a classical reference is overlooked. Moira makes sure we know our nymphs from our dryads, don’t you, Moira?’ she asked affectionately.

‘We need to borrow a bike to get round to the boathouses. They have a free system here that Nikos devised. He’s the local mayor.’

‘I must admit he sounds very intriguing.’

‘Right.’ Penny stood up quickly. ‘We’ll see you later, everyone. Where’s Stelios, by the way?’

‘Who’s Stelios?’

There was a brief silence before Karl replied, ‘A friend of mine. He owns a gallery in Thessaloniki.’

‘Karl is Director of Classical Antiquity at a museum in Cambridge,’ Moira explained.

‘Gosh, what a clever bunch you all are! I’ll have to listen and learn,’ Wendy grinned.

‘I very much doubt that,’ said Karl. ‘Sunbathing with your headphones on sounds much more instructive.’

They agreed to meet up later, and Penny and Wendy went off to find bikes.

‘Hmmm,’ Wendy breathed as they rode along, ‘bliss! Just feeling the sun on your shoulders and knowing it’s probably still raining at home . . .’

They rode past the first two boathouses to find Marigold out on her step, apparently polishing her door knocker.

‘Ciao, Penny,’ she called out, ‘and who’s this?’

‘My daughter Wendy.’ Penny wasn’t going to offer anything but the bald facts.

‘Off to see Nikos again? I’m sure he’s waiting for you.’ Marigold managed to make this short statement sound as if Nikos would be wearing a thong and tied to the mast for Penny’s personal gratification.

‘What a weird woman,’ commented Wendy. ‘She looks like the type who says she and her daughter are best friends and do everything together because she can’t accept she’s not twenty-one any more.’

‘She is. Only it’s my friend Nell’s daughter she’s best friends with, and it drives Nell mad. We’ve been getting some wonderful reviews on the island’s website for the boathouses – and then Marigold posted a really nasty one, saying it was dirty and dangerous. With photos. When we went round to have a look we realized it was actually her who’d been doing the posting.’

‘What a cow! Why did she do that?’