Sure enough, there was her darling granddaughter nestling in Marigold’s arms, smiling boldly straight at the camera. She was the prettiest baby. Green eyes full of light, a tiny nose and a shining cap of chestnut curls. For one delirious moment Nell thought the little dress Naomi wore was one she had sent her, and then she looked more closely. No, the material looked thick and expensive, whereas Nell’s had come from Next. No need to wonder who the source was. Willow hated shopping and lived in vintage creations which she threw over faded blue jeans, so it wouldn’t be her.

Nell looked again into the sweet, loving little face and ached to be acknowledged as her granny. Instead of which, the photos spelled out as clearly as could be that she was Not Wanted on Voyage.

Penny, on the other hand, was clearly being missed – not because of her sweet and generous nature or even her undoubted household efficiency, but because there was no food in the freezer.

For a few seconds she was tempted to ignore Colin’s latest message altogether, but then the marital guilt that he had cleverly managed to exploit for decades made her reach for her phone and send a message to her daughter. Could Wendy could just pop round and put some supplies in, and Penny would reimburse her as soon as she was home?

She had hardly put on her nightdress before a pithy reply arrived with astonishing speed as well as evident enjoyment.

Forget Dad, was Wendy’s response. He exploits you because you let him. If he’s that starving he can always go down to the pub. Now go and enjoy yourself. That’s an order!

Penny couldn’t help smiling. The truth was, she was enjoying herself. What had seemed like a disaster only days ago was turning out to be fascinating.

And then, without her even noticing, Penny the Worrier morphed out of the ether, like some evil genie – only, as far as she knew, she hadn’t even summoned it.

What the hell would the locals make of some interfering Englishwoman who didn’t even speak Greek telling them to paint their boathouses and do them up to go on Airbnb?

She finally stopped worrying and picked up her book. For some reason, Agatha Christie always got her to sleep in five minutes.

The next morning Penny was woken by the sun streaming in directly through her shutters and a strange sound, almost like the beating of a drum, repeated hypnotically until she had to throw open the window and peer out. Nell was doing exactly the same thing.

‘What on earth is going on?’ Penny enquired sleepily.

‘No idea. I wondered if it was one of these endless feast days they seem to have here.’

To Penny’s surprise, Nell was wearing glasses. ‘I didn’t know you wore specs.’

‘Since I was eighteen. The optician said I was studying too hard.’