‘On my way to the beach bar! Come round later and you can test out the piratical cocktails.’

Penny and Nell busied themselves with making up two beds with white linen they had ordered online from Athens, vacuuming diligently and checking that there were enough pots and pans for the guests to self-cater.

‘What about a welcome pack?’ Nell suggested. ‘I always like one of those. It means you don’t have to dash straight off to the shops.’ They phoned Dora and asked her to pick up some basics which, when she delivered them, turned out to a rather Dora-like selection consisting of hummus, pitta and olives, coffee, tea, a large slice of Cassandra’s cake plus two bottles of white wine.

‘Two bottles of wine and no milk?’ queried Nell.

‘Nine out of ten mothers prefer it. Fact,’ Dora asserted. ‘How about flowers? Shall I go and pick some?’

‘OK, but no myrtle,’ Nell grinned. ‘We don’t want to attract any passing goddesses. It might scare the baby.’

Dora came back five minutes later with pale pink oleander, some orange crocosmia and a striking splash of purple bougainvillaea. Nell and Penny had to agree it looked stunning. ‘I did a flower-arranging course,’ Dora confided. ‘We were told every arrangement needs a gatecrasher – a clashing flower that makes the whole thing work.’

‘I would never have put you down for a flower arranger,’ Nell admitted.

‘I got fed up with paying a fucking fortune to trendy florists every time I organized an event!’ Dora replied.

‘She’s full of surprises, isn’t she?’ Nell whispered as she left.

‘I know. Who would have thought Pandora Perkins, scary PR, would learn flower arranging? Or get on so well with a classics professor who won’t see seventy again?’

They put the flowers in the middle of the painted teal dining table that had been a door in its previous life, and looked around. ‘Do you know what, Nell?’ Penny sighed with deep satisfaction. ‘This place looks bloody amazing!’

‘It does, doesn’t it! Let’s go down to Treasure Island and celebrate our talents!’ Nell put an arm round Penny, and they went out to look for their bicycles.

‘I know it’s a lot to ask,’ Professor Brinkley asked nevertheless, adding a charming smile which managed to have a hint of boyishness despite his years. ‘But I really would love to see this famous olive grove sacred to the goddess Aphrodite.’

‘OK,’ Dora agreed. ‘We’ll get Ariadne to come too. She’s the unofficial guardian of the goddess. And she’s the one who found the hand with the apple.’

Ariadne was only too delighted to take them so they set off, a colourful group, the professor in his crumpled white suit, Dora in velvet and plimsolls, led by Ariadne, and with the unshakeable Juno guarding the rear.

‘I see we have protection,’ the professor laughed.

‘She’s in love with kyria Dora,’ Ariadne explained, laughing.