If the statue of Aphrodite really was here, it would be incredibly valuable and also worthy of extraordinary historical interest. The Venus de Milo had been found on a neighbouring island and was possibly the most famous statue in the world! Maybe he’d hidden it because he thought it would stop his home going ahead, or – and Dora felt this might well be his intention – he could sell it on the black market in antiquities. That would certainly pay for a few extra bathrooms. Once the idea would have seemed ludicrous, but it was common knowledge here that, with the economy so bad, lots of people dealt in stuff they had found and not told the authorities about.

Darkness was descending fast as it always did, and she really ought to go back and think what to do next. Would anyone believe her incredible idea when she told them?

A sudden sound of dry soil shifting made her look round anxiously. She stepped back into the shadow. She could see the light of someone’s cigarette glowing at the other side of the grove, coming towards her. She just had time to duck underneath a protective cypress branch as Xan Georgiades appeared and began to unlock the door of the house. Could the statue be hidden inside?

After only moments he came out again, this time holding a powerful torch. What the hell was she going to say to him about why she was here? He began to walk round the perimeter, shining the torch into every possible hiding place. Should she just step casually out and bluff? As she tried to work up her nerve to do it, there was a shout and then a curse as the torch was knocked violently out of his grasp and fell to the stony ground, shattering the bulb.

‘Fucking animal!’ Xan kicked out at Juno, who had followed her heroine into the darkness of the cypresses. Juno’s response was to butt him so hard he fell to the ground, landing only feet from Dora’s hiding place.

‘I’ll have you turned into goat curry, you fucking moron of an animal!’

The temptation to giggle welled up in Dora like hiccups. She was saved again by Juno, who walked casually over to Xan and pissed all over his feet.

This was too much for Xan and he rolled away, aiming one last kick at the goat, then hurried back through the olive grove.

Dora ruffled the coarse fur on the goat’s neck again. ‘Thanks for that, Juno. And I wonder what we make of him? A bad lot, I suspect, don’t you? Never trust a man who wears tweed in Greece, my old Dad might have said.’

Gingerly she emerged from under the cypresses and stopped. As well as the overpowering smell of goat’s piss, the aroma of myrtle wafted unmistakably through the olive trees.