‘For some reason she seems to be jealous of Nell, and wanted to ruin it for us. Apparently she used to be a bit of a rock chick.’

‘And is still trying to be,’ Wendy commented.

‘Anyway, she’s used to being the centre of attention and can’t bear anyone else to be.’

‘She’s just a jealous old bag.’

They had arrived round the corner at the small pier where they were due to meet Nikos. He was waiting on board, waving at them. Wendy took a good look at him and liked what she saw. He was wearing jeans and a plain navy t-shirt, free of football or any other logos. He struck her as about the same age as her mother, with close-cropped greying hair, stubble that was halfway between designer unshaven and the beginnings of a holiday beard, and penetrating light blue eyes, unusual in a Greek man. They were softened at the moment by a welcoming smile. There was nothing remotely pretentious about him.

‘Hello there,’ he greeted her with a smile. ‘You must be Penny’s daughter.’ He held out his hand and shook hers. His handshake was firm and strong. Another good sign; Wendy had a horror of men with grips like wet fish. ‘Welcome aboard.’

Wendy looked at the vessel admiringly, from its beautifully painted figurehead to the glossy dark hull and red sails. ‘What a fabulous boat!’

‘Thank you. You must sit at the front and get some sunshine. That’s what everyone from England comes here for.’ He held out a hand to Penny, and Wendy caught the brief, loving look that flashed between them. After that, it was the way they didn’t look at each other, almost as if they didn’t dare, that told her the most.

The trip round the island was fascinating and beautiful, and she could see why her mother had lost her heart to this place. And quite possibly this man.

She found herself studying his face as he concentrated on manoeuvring them round a tricky headland. The question she wanted to know was – did he feel the same about her mother?

As Wendy let the sun warm her heat-deprived skin, she thought about the reality of the situation. How would her father react? His recent behaviour had been strange in the extreme. Would her mother ever have the strength to stop letting him control her and choose a life that might bring real happiness?

They would miss her, of course. She was a part of the children’s lives, but they had all grown up enough not to need the ministrations of a grandmother. And sensible Wendy could see the attraction of lovely Greek holidays for them all. Unless of course there was a Mrs Nikos? Where her mother was concerned, Wendy had a strong protective streak. Maybe she should ask a few subtle questions and find out.