‘This olive grove has been part of Kyri as long as anyone can remember, providing a living for Yannis before he got too old to harvest the olives. If Mr Georgiades builds his house, part of the grove will go forever. What was a living for a poor man will be a luxury for a rich one. Surely this is wrong, my friends?’

A number of people turned to each other and nodded, and a soft chorus of agreement began.

Nikos raised a hand. ‘Mr Georgiades, you have heard a significant objection. What would you like to tell us in reply?’

Xan Georgiades got to his feet. He had no sign of nerves and was clearly a practised speaker.

‘First of all, I have followed every regulation to the letter. My house will not be within thirty metres of the beach. My lawyer has been authorized by the public notary. I have proved there was a dwelling there before 1923; I have employed a mechanikos politikos, a specially approved civil engineer to advise me . . .’ Now his voice was becoming shrill with anger. ‘And above all, I am building a beautiful house, a house the village can be proud of.’

‘If you like big boxes,’ heckled someone from the back.

Georgiades smiled. ‘All Greek houses are essentially cubes, mine is just a larger cube. And I will build it entirely from local materials. And more importantly, with local labour.’

‘No bloody foreigners,’ added another heckler in the audience.

‘Or thieves from Santorini!’ seconded another. ‘You could build a house in Athens for what those villains charge you!’

‘And our friend Takis – who is making such a noble gesture by resigning – talks of losing a harvest of olives big enough to be a man’s living. But most of the olive trees are dead and the others dying, that is why Yannis sold it.’

Now the nodding and murmuring was definitely in agreement.

‘He’s winning them over,’ Penny said anxiously. ‘The meeting’s starting to go his way.’

‘What is more, the noble Takis has another motive,’ Georgiades went on, taking advantage of the turn in the tide. ‘He doesn’t want my house on top of his bar because the work will disrupt his business. Or maybe he has plans to sell his bar – a bar with no customers – to some developer. I ask you, friends, would it not be better to let me build my house and swimming pool as a community facility which people from the village can come and use?’

This was a definite hit, especially among the mothers with children.

‘Like hell he will,’ Dora threw in, not even attempting to lower her voice. ‘Our neighbour in Wembley promised that till he got his planning permission, and then he told everyone to get lost!’