‘I shouldn’t worry. Wendy will either see her off or make her life hell. Besides, they’ll probably have fallen out before they get to Athens airport. Where is Wendy, by the way?’

‘Gone to pack. She’s looking up flights at this very moment.’

Nell started to giggle. ‘I hope she doesn’t get the 11.45 from Athens. She might bump into Romeo and his new Juliet!’

The thought of her bully of a husband as Romeo had Penny and Nell in stitches.

‘Have I told you how lovely you look when you laugh?’ Stelios informed Nell, putting his arm round her with a flourish. ‘More beautiful than your namesake Helen of Troy! Come with me and stay in Thessaloniki,’ he suddenly begged. ‘It is the second biggest city in Greece, and no one in Britain has ever heard of it!’

‘I have to go home, Stelios. To see my daughter and granddaughter.’

‘Then come and stay when you have seen them. Just for a holiday.’

She studied him for a second. ‘Perhaps.’

‘I do not like “perhaps”. It is not a word we have in Greek.’

‘Is that true, Nikos?’ Nell appealed.

Nikos just laughed. ‘I can see it is not a word in Stelios’s vocabulary.’

Nell suddenly realized how dull her life would be without a man who didn’t have the word ‘perhaps’ in his vocabulary. He was someone who took life by the horns and, like the books she’d so enjoyed by Mary Renault about Theseus the bull-dancer, made it dance to his own tune.

‘Stelios!’ she suddenly said. ‘I hate the word “perhaps” too, so I shall use another one. Yes! I would like to visit the second biggest city in Greece that no one has ever heard of, but I’m afraid I can’t remember its name!’

‘Thessaloniki!’ Stelios started to jump about like a dancing bear released from captivity. ‘Lovely Helen, I know you have important commitments in . . .’ He grinned wickedly. ‘I’m afraid I can’t remember the name of the place!’

‘Sevenoaks!’ Nell replied, smiling as broadly as he was. Stelios swept her into his bearlike embrace and kissed her soundly.

They were prevented from making further romantic declarations by the arrival of a large entourage consisting of Venus Green, the bearded photographer, Delilah from the Daily Post and various hangers-on they’d acquired at their hotel, who clearly wanted as many selfies as possible with this faintly famous person before she left.

‘You’d better order six copies of the Daily Post, ladies,’ Delilah announced, as if she were awarding them all a golden apple. ‘Venus is on the front page! And I have written up the dramatic story of your search to find the statue, as well as what a great undiscovered location the island is. Kyri is about to find itself in the limelight!’

Waving goodbye like gracious benefactors, the party headed for their helicopter.