She delved into her backpack just as a curious figure came into sight, wearing a long dress in a rather unfortunate shade of purple, embroidered with the kind of key patterns you find in Greek temples, and reading a book as she walked along, apparently oblivious of the chaos around her. Her hair was an untidy birds’ nest that made Nell think of the Edward Lear poem about the old man who found two owls and a hen, four larks and a wren had all made a nest in his beard.

Nell suddenly realized who it was. ‘Moira!’ she greeted the third member of their little troupe. ‘Have you found the right terminal yet?’

The newcomer closed her copy of Robert Graves’ Greek Myths and Legends and looked round hazily. ‘Sorry, no. I’ve just come from the Archaeological Museum in Piraeus. You really ought to go.’

Dora lifted an eyebrow just enough to imply that archaeological museums were not exactly on her list of essential activities.

Moira taught classics at one of the most famous colleges in Cambridge, and lost few opportunities to remind you of it. ‘I’m so excited,’ she announced, staring off into the blue distance of the sea. ‘Our ferry stops at Ios, where Homer was buried, and I want to get off and at least offer some kind of libation. The only thing is you only get six minutes.’

‘I hear Ios is a party island now,’ Dora pointed out bitchily. ‘Vomit in the streets and twenty-four-hour booze cruises. What would Homer think of that?’

Moira shook her head in horror. Nell watched, fascinated, hoping no larks or wrens flew out.

‘Though in the Odyssey he does talk about the wild wine that leads men on to sing at the top of their lungs,’ she informed them, ‘and to dance and blurt out stories better not told.’

‘I’ve had some of that,’ Dora agreed.

‘Me too,’ agreed Nell. ‘Though not for far too long.’

‘We’ll have to put that right,’ laughed Dora. ‘Do you remember retsina?’

‘The one that tastes like Dettol?’

‘The very same. We’ll see if they have some on the boat.’

‘When we find it,’ Nell sighed, her usual energy beginning to deflate in the heat. ‘Oh yes, I was going to ring Penny.’

‘Hang on,’ Moira pointed behind them, ‘isn’t that her now?’

Dora and Nell turned round just as a smiling figure bore down on them about twenty feet away, looking almost the same as she had when they first met as students – frumpy clothes, straight fair hair, freckled face and an air of almost desperate eagerness.

‘My God,’ whispered Dora. ‘She’s wearing an Alice band! At our age! I gave up those when I was twelve. And she looks so keen to please, just like this spaniel we had when I was a kid that never stopped wagging its tail. Even at burglars.’