Powerless Penny had found her voice at last.

‘You mean Zorba here?’ Colin asked insultingly.

Nikos simply laughed in his face, and put his arm tightly round his Penelope.

‘How pathetic. Don’t you know what a fucking cliché you are?’ Colin hissed at Penny. ‘He’ll dump you for some Scandinavian blonde half your age, mark my words. And don’t come crawling back to me.’

‘Goodbye, Colin,’ Penny had the urge to start laughing again, but this time hysterically, and only Nikos squeezing her hand in support was keeping her going. ‘I won’t say good luck.’

Colin seemed to know when he was beaten. ‘I’m going to get something to eat. I’ve been up since five with nothing to eat but a Ryanair sandwich, which I had to pay for.’ He stomped off towards the hotel cafe.

‘I hope to God he’s not staying here,’ Penny breathed.

‘It won’t matter to you.’ Nikos’s smile was a mile wide. ‘You’ll be with me, at the boathouse.’

‘Well done, Penny,’ congratulated Moira. ‘You were magnificent!’

‘Yes, Mum,’ Wendy hugged her. ‘I’m so glad you’ve finally managed to stand up for yourself and choose what you want.’

‘Really?’ Guilt at breaking up her family was beginning to seep in.

‘Yes!’ Wendy insisted. ‘Tom and I are old enough to deal with it. Be happy with Nikos.’

Nell, meanwhile, was watching Colin’s progress as he tried in a loud British voice to negotiate a room from a reluctant Takis, who had just told him the hotel was full – even though there were clearly rows and rows of keys behind him in the pigeonholes.

‘Perfect!’ Nell’s face suddenly lit up with delight as she watched the scene. ‘We couldn’t have designed it better. Look who’s decided to take Colin under her wing!’

Twenty-Two

A vision in a brightly coloured silk kaftan had descended on a bewildered-looking Colin and, like a ministering guardian angel, led him to one of the quiet tables at the far end of the hotel lobby.

Nell, eager not to miss a moment of this titanic encounter, slipped quietly into the nook by the lift shaft so that she could keep listening. Willow would kill her if she didn’t relay every word.

‘Mr Anderson,’ announced the vision, ‘or may I call you Colin? My name is Marigold and, believe me, I am very glad to see you.’ She paused for dramatic effect. ‘And not before time, either. It was I who sent you the anonymous messages.’ She smiled bashfully, as one driven to this extreme conduct out of deep sympathy for a wronged husband. ‘Your wife has been behaving outrageously.’

‘That was you, was it?’ asked Colin, not sounding at all grateful.

‘You look exhausted. Can I get you a beer?’