It was a glorious evening on deck. The wake of the ship seemed to be made of liquid silver and the wind that blew through their hair was warm and caressing. Nell stared up at the stars. She thought she could see Orion’s belt but didn’t dare point it out for fear of a half-hour lecture on the other Greek-myth-inspired constellations from Moira. She hadn’t seen so many stars since she’d taken Willow to the London Planetarium. She wouldn’t think about Willow on this beautiful night. She’d accepted Penny’s invitation because it had felt like getting away from what she knew was becoming an unhealthy obsession with the daughter who wouldn’t talk to her. And surely it would be fun to spend some time with her three friends from college, ill-assorted though they might be? Wasn’t that part of the fun? She certainly hoped so. She made herself concentrate on the thousands of stars and planets above her, sharp as jewels in the blackness of the open sky.

‘I wonder what the weather’s like at home? Horrible, I hope.’ This mild statement seemed almost blasphemous on Penny’s lips.

Towards the stern on the top deck, a group of lively young people sat on their bags drinking wine and playing guitars.

‘Do you remember how incredibly bold it was, going to Greece when we were young?’ Nell’s voice seemed to hum with pleasure at the memory. ‘Not like now, when they all fly to Bali or South America. The Greek islands were the height of adventure. An unknown frontier!’

‘And no hotels or Airbnb!’ Penny laughed. ‘Just a little Greek lady dressed in black waiting at the dock to offer you a room.’

The group of young people were clearly in Sixties nostalgic mood. ‘If You’re Going to San Francisco’ segued into ‘Leaving on a Jet Plane’.

‘Do you remember the cafe in Zanthos that had the only jukebox in the village?’ Penny asked them. ‘And the one record it had was “Black Magic Woman”, and we played and played it? I’m going to ask them if they know it.’ She jumped to her feet.

‘Oh, God, stop her, someone,’ Dora begged, but it was too late. In five minutes they were all joining in the chorus.

It was too much for Dora, who got to her feet and made for the cabin, where she sank gratefully onto the bunk bed, trying to ignore the smell she hoped wasn’t carbon monoxide and deafen herself to the clanking and clattering of the ramp going down at the first island to let off cars, vans and loud, excitable pedestrians. She stopped herself thinking about how many years it had been since she’d last heard that song.

At least, she comforted herself, things couldn’t get much worse than being below the car deck in a two-foot-wide bunk bed in thirty-degree heat.