Ariadne pointed out a cluster of large red berries. ‘We make these into bread. Also a strong drink. I am not sure of the word.’

‘Liqueur?’

‘Yes. Mastiha liqueur. The island of Chios is famous for it, but ours is better.’

‘And is that good for something too?’

‘For getting drunk,’ grinned Ariadne, as Dora jumped again at the sudden touch of a rough-furred neck. ‘That is Juno. She is my favourite. I think she likes you.’

Dora found herself being playfully butted, and almost tripped. ‘If that’s liking, I wouldn’t want to meet her angry.’

They continued down the steep path, with Juno the goat still breathing down Dora’s neck in a disconcerting manner. Soon they came to a small clearing full of bright pink oleanders and wild rose bushes. Dora stopped to pick one.

‘Loulouthia!’ Ariadne shrugged in disgust. ‘Flowers. They are a waste of the good soil.’

Dora stuck the rose behind her ear. It made her feel like a hippie, and she laughed out loud.

‘Sssh!’ Ariadne quieted her, looking round.

‘Why?’ asked Dora, intrigued. They seemed to be in the middle of nowhere. The path had veered left through what seemed to be a large olive grove that led directly down to the beach. The beach bar was five minutes further along the sand.

Ariadne didn’t answer immediately. They climbed further down, Dora following in the girl’s footsteps. They were nearly at the bottom when Ariadne took her hand and led her through the ancient trees to where two or three of Juno’s fellow goats were rooting around, hunting for tufts of early grass.

It was an extraordinary place. Dora looked around, trying to get an idea of how many olive trees there were. Fifty at least, she guessed.

‘My favourite place,’ Ariadne whispered. ‘Sacred to the goddess.’

‘Which goddess?’ Dora enquired. Like saints, there seemed to be so many.

Ariadne cast a withering glance in her direction. ‘Aphrodite, of course. The one you call Venus.’

At the word Venus, Dora felt a tiny arrow of panic pierce her consciousness. None of her friends here had the slightest idea who Venus Green was, and they probably cared even less. But Dora knew how quickly word would have spread in London’s smart restaurants and the latest hip wine bars that she’d lost her major client.

She closed her eyes, telling herself she wouldn’t think about it.

Ariadne clutched her arm. ‘You feel it also!’

Dora opened her eyes again, momentarily disorientated. What was the girl talking about?

‘I always know when she is here.’

‘Right. OK,’ Dora replied doubtfully. ‘When does she usually come?’ She decided it would be unfair to challenge Ariadne directly. The young liked to believe in things.