‘Really! Look at us, going on a boat trip with the sun shining, and the sea a hundred different shades of blue.’

‘And no Moira to lecture us about Homer,’ Dora offered with a grin.

They listened, enthralled, as Takis took them right round the island with its tiny bays, long sandy beaches and crystal waters so clear you could see down fathoms deep to the rock formations on the sea bed below.

Towards the south they passed a large boat, painted dark red, with a beautiful figurehead of a dark-eyed woman, her white breasts bare, holding a seashell in her hands.

‘Goodness,’ Dora exclaimed. ‘That looks like a pirate ship! What is the significance of the topless lady?’

Takis laughed. ‘Kyri was once a pirate lair. The French corsairs stole from the Turks and hid their plunder here. But in fact the boat belongs to our mayor, an interesting man. He allowed the first gay marriage here on the island. You can see how that would have got up the nose of the priests!’

‘And the maiden on the figurehead? Is she a pirate’s moll?’

‘More likely a nereid, the nymphs of the sea. There were fifty of them.’

‘I thought those were sirens?’ Dora said.

‘Sirens were bad, luring sailors to their death. The nereids were helpful to sailors.’

They rounded a headland to where a row of small buildings, each with a huge wooden door in the lower floor and a large balcony above, seemed almost to be built into the cliff face. ‘Are they garages?’ asked Dora.

Takis laughed. ‘You are almost right. Garages for boats! They are called syrma. The fishermen park their boats inside in the winter. As a matter of fact, our mayor lives in the two at the end, round the next headland in the bay.’

‘But it’s so remote!’ Nell protested. ‘Is there even a road?’

‘A bit of a lone wolf, our mayor. But he has his boat.’ He grinned at them, a gold tooth flashing in the sunlight. ‘And also a motorbike.’

‘What’s he like, your mayor?’

‘Depends if you ask a man or a woman,’ Takis grinned.

‘He sounds like my kind of man,’ Dora replied archly.

‘I’m sure you will meet him soon.’

Half-listening, Penny was conscious of a feeling of disappointment. Another macho man. She went on staring at the row of buildings that clung to the shoreline, intrigued. ‘They could be so stunning. Imagine if you painted all the wooden doors in different colours.’

During Colin’s long absences travelling or staying in London, Penny had dabbled in interior design, painting furniture and picking up clever finds in junk shops. A couple of friends had even asked her to do up their houses. She had actually made a bit of money out of it – ‘your pin money’ Colin had called it dismissively.