‘Anyway, stop being unselfish. I don’t care if I’m too young for you. You make me laugh, and I didn’t think I’d ever meet a man who did that. I’m not complaining, and despite what my friends all think, I’d make a wonderful carer.’ She smiled sweetly at him. ‘I’d just hire someone else to do it.’

‘You would, would you?’

‘I’d make sure she was nice, though. Much nicer than me!’

‘Pretty?’

‘I’m not sure you’re allowed to ask that kind of thing now.’

‘Ah well. Nice will do.’

Dora’s phone beeped with two new messages. One was from Nell, warning her about Delilah from the Daily Post; the other was from Stelios, inviting them all to come and celebrate.

‘That sounds fun,’ Dora smiled. ‘Look, I’ll just call this woman now so that she doesn’t spoil the fun later.’ She took out a large purple ring file. ‘I know, I know,’ she laughed, ‘a Filofax, symbol of the Aspiring Eighties. I prefer it to my phone. Probably why Venus Green sacked me.’ She flipped expertly through it, dialled a number, and adopted a loud London voice. ‘Delilah, darling. Pandora Perkins here.’

‘Pandora!’ shrieked the woman. ‘Where have you got to? Everyone’s been gossiping about the way you disappeared. You’re not in rehab?’

‘No, I’m on a Greek island. That’s why you wanted to speak to me. I’m one of the heroines who found the Venus.’

‘Oh my God, you’re the Dora she was talking about? That couldn’t be more amazing because . . .’ At this point, the line went as dead as a five-day-old story.

Dora dialled again, but unusually the connection on Kyri seemed to be down. ‘We have to hope that’s the end of her. Actually, I might turn my phone off and claim it was a problem on the line.’

‘Is that being a good PR?’ Karl enquired.

‘No, but it means having a good evening. The story will keep till tomorrow. Come on – let’s go and join Stelios.’

Stelios was sitting with Nikos at a large table on the terrace, just next to the Venus, clearly in an expansive mood. They were both staring at the statue’s glowing white limbs in deep admiration. Under candlelight, she seemed even more lifelike than by day.

‘What period would you say she was?’ enquired Nikos.

‘Hellenistic,’ Stelios replied. ‘I’d guess 200 or so BC. I don’t think she’s Roman, even though the couch has a Roman look to it.’

‘What would she be worth?’

‘Beyond price.’

They suddenly burst into a passionate argument in their native Greek.