‘She’s certainly got a point!’

Moira had managed to transform six plastic chairs and a drop-down canteen van into an exotic island paradise. The bar was swathed in palm branches and she had tacked straw door mats from the little supermarket together to provide an authentic-looking covering for the van itself. She had painted a large map of Treasure Island complete with an X marking the spot, and nailed it to a nearby tree. There was even an old chest stuffed with cheap fake jewellery which was more likely to come from Taiwan than the Spanish Main.

‘Avast, me hearties!’ Moira strode towards them in full pirate get-up, black eye patch and even a fake parrot on her shoulder. ‘What’ll be your pleasure this fine afternoon?’

‘Moira!’ Dora shrieked. ‘You look amazing. Where on earth did you find the parrot?’

‘I borrowed it from the wildlife museum. I am supposed to be using it to inform the primary class about Aves Psittaciformes, the common parrot! I have to convince Takis – and more seriously Cassandra – that it’s worth spending a few euros to get the boat trip visitors to stop here for a drink. As I’ve said to Cassandra, they need to try something!’

Dora looked at the list of colourful cocktails behind the bar, next to the rows of garish-looking liqueurs in various dazzling hues.

‘This may be a mistake, but I think I’ll try a Billy Bones.’

‘Good choice!’ Moira slipped behind the bar and filled the cocktail shaker with five or six ingredients, plus ice, and shook it enthusiastically. She poured the resulting mixture into a bulbous wine glass, adding a slice of pineapple and a pink umbrella.

‘Dare I ask what’s in it?’ Dora enquired.

‘Quarter ounce of rum,’ Moira grinned. ‘Half of amaretto, quarter of cherry brandy, another of peach schnapps, some orange bitters plus a dash of pineapple juice, another of blood orange, half a lime and some coconut cream!’

‘Bloody hell. I’ll be prostrate. Where did you learn how to make it?’

‘I’m following the barman’s bible – one of sour, two of sweet, three of strong, four of weak – apparently you can’t go wrong with that.’ She turned to the professor.

‘So, Karl, what’ll you be having?’

‘I’ll try the Black Spot for my sins, and let’s hope I live to tell the tale.’

Moira deftly mixed a deadly-looking concoction that seemed to involve most of the bottles on the shelf, including a lethal dose of blackberry liqueur.

‘Thank you.’ He eyed it dubiously. ‘And will you be having one yourself?’

‘Don’t mind if I do. I think I’ll try a Long John Silver.’

‘Far be it from me to spoil the party,’ he shook his head, ‘but I thought you were teetotal.’

Moira swigged from a bottle of coconut rum in a convincingly piratical manner. ‘That’s before I discovered the demon drink.’