Penny took a deep breath. ‘I’m Penny Anderson. I’m a housewife from Surrey and I think I came here to get away from my husband.’

The others stared.

‘I’m Helen Winstanley and I’m a retired doctor’s receptionist. I came because it sounded fun.’ Nell paused and bit her lip. ‘And, to be honest, because I’m lonely.’

Moira paused a moment. ‘I’m Moira O’Reilly, as you know, and my college has told me I’ve got to retire, damn them!’

They all looked expectantly at Dora, waiting for her to announce that she was London’s scariest PR.

‘I’m Pandora Perkins, and three weeks ago I was dumped by my biggest client, a celebrity ironically called Venus Green. I came here to get away from the flak.’

‘Never heard of her,’ replied the professor briskly. ‘The ancient Greeks knew that kind of fame never lasts, and think, if she hadn’t done it you would have missed meeting the goddess in the grove. Now, tell me how it happened.’

Dora laughed and ordered some wine for the table. She would need it.

She explained how it was really Ariadne who knew about the goddess, and she was convinced that Aphrodite visited regularly and that there would be a powerful scent of myrtle whenever she did – and yet no myrtle plants were visible.

‘And you believe that Aphrodite really did come, as the girl suggests?’ he asked gently.

Dora sighed. ‘To be honest, I’ve no bloody idea. My rational brain says it’s ridiculous, but I did smell the myrtle. And then there was the hand with the apple, which the owner says was planted there to stop him building his holiday home.’

‘And do you believe him?’

Dora looked around her furtively. There was no sign of Xan anywhere. She leaned in and dropped her voice. ‘I think the man who’s bought the grove found the Venus and has hidden it somewhere. Maybe in one of those pirate caves Nikos showed us.’

‘But why would he do that?’ Penny asked.

‘Two reasons. So that he can go ahead with his holiday house, and maybe also because he wants to sell it.’

‘But surely you can’t sell a famous statue?’ asked Nell.

‘Well, actually,’ the professor interrupted thoughtfully, ‘I’m afraid you can. The curator of the museum was just telling me. Apparently, smuggling antiquities out of Greece used to be run by organized crime, along with drugs and guns. Now, with the Greek economy gone to pot, everyone’s at it!’ He took a sip of his wine. ‘A couple of years ago, two farmers were sent to prison for trying to sell a statue they’d found for ten million euros.’

‘Bloody hell,’ Moira marvelled. ‘I had no idea!’