The meeting broke up with a muted air of excitement as everyone departed in twos and threes discussing where the sandpaper should be bought, who had paintbrushes or rollers, and whether the men or the women were more competent to actually apply the paint.

‘I think that went rather well,’ Penny grinned as the last person left.

‘Fandabidozi!’ said Takis, and spun round on his heels.

‘Is that Greek for brilliant?’ asked Nell, fascinated.

‘Glaswegian,’ explained Takis improbably. ‘Enthusiastic endorsement by Wee Jimmy Krankie. I worked in Glasgow many years ago.’

‘Do you think the people were convinced about doing it?’ Penny asked anxiously. ‘There was quite a lot of hostility, I thought.’

‘Not surprising, is it?’ Nell shrugged. ‘I mean, we’ve only been here five minutes and here we are interfering in their way of life.’

Takis shook his head vehemently. ‘No. OK in the end. You have to put a bomb under these people. They don’t even like to change a light bulb. That is why we are so stuck in the past.’

‘All right,’ Penny grinned. ‘We’d better deliver on our promises. I’ll have to go and take a proper look at these boathouses. There’s only so much tourists will take in the name of folksy interiors, but I’ve done quite a lot of stuff for friends with no money, so it should be OK.’

‘You just have to persuade people they need to spend a lot of money to get serious simplicity,’ Nell laughed. ‘By the way . . .’ She looked at Penny curiously. ‘Have you ever met that man Nikos before?’

‘The hunky lone-wolf mayor of Kyri? Can’t say I’ve bumped into him in my local Waitrose, no.’

‘Only he seemed to know you. He stared at you as if you’d just stepped out of a dream.’

‘Oh for goodness’ sake, Nell!’ Penny shook her head at the ludicrousness of such a suggestion. ‘How could I know the mayor of a tiny Greek island, especially one who’s approved gay marriage? They’ve only just allowed blessing of divorcees in my church at home.’

‘Hmmm.’ Nell looked unconvinced. ‘Well, I suppose only time will tell, won’t it?’

Dora picked her way along the path from the bus stop to the beach cafe in her new plimsolls as carefully as Joan Collins in stilettos navigating the red carpet. She didn’t like to admit it, but falling over was no joke at their age, especially when your phone might be out of signal to summon immediate assistance.

She almost did fall when Juno the goat, white and shaggy with long cream fur and curly horns, came up and nuzzled her. The animal’s extraordinarily human face almost seemed to be smiling at Dora.

‘You wouldn’t look so happy if you knew I was picturing you as a nice furry rug by the side of my bed,’ Dora informed her.

The goat kept smiling.