‘Thank you for trusting us,’ Penny said quietly, raising her glass and thinking about how she hadn’t been brave enough to share the truth about her own marriage.

‘Yes,’ Dora added, obviously much struck. She hadn’t got many close girlfriends. In fact, this holiday was the longest period she could remember spending alone with other women. For a fraction of a second she thought about confessing that she’d lost Venus Green, her biggest client, and that everyone in the PR world was probably gossiping about it; but no, she didn’t do all that Oprah stuff. Her technique when faced with pain or failure was to wallow in guilt and self-indulgence, drink too much wine and then pretend nothing had happened. It had worked so far.

She decided to swiftly change the subject before it got too dangerous. ‘What is the notebook for?’ she enquired. ‘Haven’t you heard of new technology?’ Actually, that was a bit rich; she was hardly a tech queen herself.

‘I prefer good old pen and paper,’ Penny insisted. ‘We’re making a to-do list for converting the boathouses. We’re going over there tomorrow to assess them properly. Fancy joining us?’

‘I don’t think I will, thanks. Any news of the classical invalid?’

‘Champing at the bit,’ Nell replied. ‘She wants us to go and explore pirate caves once the doctor allows her.’

‘Not long now till we’re due back in Athens,’ Dora reminded them. ‘Don’t want to miss those flights, do we?’

No one answered. Dora looked at them searchingly. ‘Do we?’ It might be all right for a housewife and a retired receptionist to stay on indefinitely, she thought irritably, but she had a life. A sliver of panic chipped its way into her mind about what would be waiting for her.

Nell looked at Penny. They had just arranged to paint the boathouses a few days before they were due to fly back. Surely that was a problem?

Penny studiously avoided her eye.

‘Of course we do,’ replied Nell briskly. ‘Now let’s get back to that list.’

Penny had left her phone in her room, and when she got back she heard it ringing. Panic felled her for a moment – could it be Wendy or one of the children? But Wendy always used WhatsApp. She looked at the caller. Colin. She nearly answered it, then stopped and stared at the number. It would, as usual, be a complaint.