She’d chosen an attractive piece with two small top drawers and two large ones, with simple round handles, on charming curvy legs which gave it a slightly French look, like a saucy can-can dancer.

The hearts of the helpers seemed to plummet a little when she produced more sandpaper after the marathon session sanding the boathouse doors.

‘Don’t worry! You only need to sand a little bit and then you can use this! My secret weapon!’ Demetria translated with much emphasis and many hand gestures. Penny produced three bright yellow cans shaped like outsize lighter fuel containers, proclaiming that they were ‘LIQUID SANDER – replaces sandpaper’. The message was clearly getting through as they started to clap.

The tins, rather scarily, boasted a large skull and crossbones and the message POISON: FLAMMABLE. ‘Be careful how you use them,’ Penny warned. ‘They’re pretty stinky, so can someone go and open the boathouse door?’

One of the women pushed the newly painted red door wide open to find all their menfolk were standing staring outside, as if they wanted to know what was happening but somehow felt this was women’s work.

‘Off to the kafenion, the lot of you!’ shouted Demetria. She turned back to the assembled women and pointed at the liquid. ‘Useless lot! If any of you wants to get rid of your husband, put it in their ouzo and they probably wouldn’t notice the difference.’

The audience began to cackle as Penny, wearing rubber gloves, opened the tins and distributed paint brushes.

‘Where on earth did you get that?’ Nell enquired. ‘Surely you didn’t pop that in your suitcase along with the PG Tips, just in case liquid sander was useful on your Greek beach break?’

Penny looked faintly embarrassed. ‘Nikos got it for me. He does quite a lot of DIY, apparently.’

‘Really?’ Moira enquired archly. ‘Is there no end to that man’s talents?’

By the end of the day they had painted the chest of drawers in olive green, an old door in teal to be used as a table top like the one Nikos had in his studio, a book case in bright yellow and a kitchen cabinet in duck-egg blue. Moira had excelled herself by repainting a damaged screen picturing the nymph Io disguised by Zeus as a cow.

‘I must say,’ Dora remarked, impressed, ‘that’s a very pretty cow.’

‘Yes,’ Moira grinned. ‘I think that’s what Zeus thought.’

At the end of the day, Penny arranged the new furniture in the boathouse. It looked surprisingly effective, except for the very plain divan bed.

‘I know,’ Penny decided finally. ‘We’ll use Moira’s pretty cow as a headboard.’

They pushed the just-dried nymph to the top of the bed and somehow the whole room instantly came together.

Moira, usually immune to her surroundings, was forced to see decoration in an entirely new light. ‘You know, Penny, you really have a talent for this.’