‘They are out of side,’ said the waiter. ‘With new friends.’

The girls had been invited to join the large family group on the verandah, and were installed at the table with children crawling all over them and their Zivania glasses being filled. Lana found this unusual Cypriot tipple strangely soothing and soon dived in for seconds.

One of the party, Maria, spoke superb English and acted tirelessly as translator, explaining that they had this family reunion several times a year, and the occasion this time was a christening the next day, it being a feast day at the local church. An icon of the Saviour would be carried in a procession around the village, and baby Katerina would be baptized too.

The family were fascinated by the girls – they’d not heard of Wales. Though one of the older men, Themis, who Lana thought looked very wise, seemed to have heard of Richard Burton. There were big nods of approval that all three were going on to higher education in the autumn, and they were particularly impressed that Catrin was going to be a doctor.

‘Ey! Giatros!’ they cheered.

Uncle Leonades said something that made the whole table laugh and Maria translated, saying he had trouble with his bunions if Catrin would like to take a look.

The afternoon turned into one of those unexpectedly delightful gatherings, unplanned, unique and unforgettable. Once the savouries had been cleared away with cheers of thanks for the chef, the waiter brought out several platters of mouth-watering Cypriot desserts – baklava, galaktoboureko, and a kind of custard dish called mahalepi made from cornflour and served with rose water.

As they all tucked in, Themis whispered something to Maria.

‘My uncle wants to know why you choose Kakopetria when you could be in the nightclubs of Limassol?’

They all laughed, and tentatively, feeling confident now in the bosom of her new-found friends, Judith explained her connection with Kakopetria: how her father had grown up here before he moved to Wales in 1973. There was much joy when the party realized that Judith was in fact a Cypriot! But she was quick to clarify. ‘He’s my stepfather,’ she said, ‘so I’m not really.’

‘Ah, patriós!’ Maria explained and everybody nodded a little awkwardly. Lana sensed that step-parents weren’t a common occurrence in Cyprus. ‘What is your father’s name? Perhaps we will know his family,’ asked Maria.

‘Well, that’s unlikely,’ said Judith. ‘He was an only child, and his parents died when he was about twenty. I’m not exactly sure – he doesn’t talk about it much.’

Maria translated for the others, but Lana sensed that their curiosity had been piqued and they wanted more information.

‘Er … he’s known now as George Harris – his middle name is Andrew. But that’s because he changed his name when he came to the UK.’

‘Yeah, ’cos we’re all too bloody lazy in Wales to learn how to pronounce foreign names!’ Lana interjected, a bit tipsy now thanks to the Zivania.