There was no sign of Ariadne to make her cappuccino, which she tried not to be irritated by; but like the princess and the pea, it was definitely spoiling the perfect morning she’d planned. She looked out at the little beach with its soft white sand and turquoise sea, sparkling and rippling in the sunlight. It was so clear that she’d almost considered snorkelling, but that would have meant getting her hair wet so she’d contented herself with hunting for shells. In half an hour she had quite a hoard of blue whelks, purple and green sea urchin shells, a small conch striped like a jungle animal and, most beautiful of all, a scallop shell just like the one Botticelli painted of Venus rising from the foam. Venus, bloody Venus; why did that name follow her around?

Her desire for a cappuccino was becoming impossible to ignore, so she piled her shells onto her towel and went off in search of Ariadne.

She had only just set foot in the olive grove when Juno the goat spotted her and danced – there was no other word for it – towards her over the dry earth dotted with occasional fallen olives. If Juno was here, Ariadne wouldn’t be far away.

She found the girl sitting on the curious stone bench outside the cabin, her eyes closed as if she were sleeping or sunbathing like a lizard.

‘Hello Ariadne,’ Dora greeted her. ‘Are you having a little doze?’ She suspected Cassandra kept the girl working pretty hard.

Ariadne opened her dark eyes, a little like olives themselves. It struck Dora how ridiculous the expression ‘olive skin’ was, when olives were usually either green or almost black. ‘I was breathing in the myrtle. Can’t you smell it? It’s very strong today.’

Dora sniffed loudly. There it was again, the mystifying but unmistakable aroma of that bloody blossom! She looked around. There were no flowers at all, let alone the imaginary cliff roses Xan Georgiades had tried to fob her off with, and certainly no myrtle.

‘The goddess is angrier than usual.’ Ariadne pointed at the furrows in the ground near them. ‘She has been digging. All the earth is disturbed. It is as if she was looking for something.’

Dora couldn’t imagine goddesses, especially Aphrodite, scrabbling around in the earth. Oh for goodness’ sake, what was she thinking? Goddesses didn’t exist in the modern world – had never existed, in fact. They were a fiction used by people to try and make sense of a scary and uncertain world. She glanced nervously over her shoulder at the cabin. She didn’t want to be accused of trespassing by the owner the day before the meeting.

Quite suddenly, the scent disappeared.

‘She has gone now,’ Ariadne announced. ‘I will come back later and see if I can help her.’

‘Absolutely. I’m sure she’ll be pleased. But do you think for now, you could make me a cappuccino?’