Huw had reason to worry, because Catrin was about to head off on the Big Trip – island-hopping for a month in Greece, accompanied by Judith Harris and Lana Lloyd, her best friends since she was five. The three girls were as different as chalk, cheese and chocolate. But they knew and loved each other inside out and were as close today as they’d been in the first week of infant school. During their thirteen-year friendship they’d barely spent a single day without seeing each other and all three knew that when they returned from the Big Trip, they’d be heading off in very separate directions – Catrin to study medicine at Cardiff, Judith to read economics in London, and Lana to train as a musical theatre actress. So what lay ahead was more than just a holiday. It was their final hurrah, their last chance to stock up on each other’s company before beginning the next chapter of their young lives. Deciding where to go on the Big Trip had been far from easy: backpacking in Australia? Campervanning in New Zealand? Fruit picking in France? Judith had suggested interrailing – drawn to the history and might of great European cities like Hamburg and Nice – whereas Catrin longed to see Paris and Rome. ‘It’s so romantic,’ she said wistfully.

‘It is if you’re loaded!’ Lana had warned, instantly dampening her friends’ enthusiasm. ‘But us three are on a budget of ten quid a day. And I’d rather wash in the sea and sleep on a beach than spend a month in a manky train full of horny stoners.’

‘Classy,’ Judith had said sarcastically and Catrin sighed.

‘Look,’ said Lana, softening. ‘What about island-hopping? There’s shed-loads of history and stuff in Greece, so that’s that box ticked for you, Jude. And Cat, if you want all the romantic bollocks, then what’s more idyllic than a sunset on Skiathos? I’ll be sorted with a beach and a bar, so Bob’s your uncle. What d’you reckon?’

They had begrudgingly agreed. Both of them were used to Lana getting her own way, but frustratingly she was usually right.

‘Excellent!’ Lana had said with a smile. ‘Island-hopping it is.’

‘Now you’re to keep it on you at all times, d’you hear? Even when you sleep!’ said Huw as he held out a highly unattractive khaki-coloured money belt.

‘But I can’t wear it swimming, Dad, or in the shower. All the travellers’ cheques and cash will go soggy,’ Catrin replied.

‘She’ve got a point mind, Huw,’ said Liz, Catrin’s mother, who was peeling a price tag off the sole of a new flip-flop.

‘We’ve discussed this, Elizabeth.’ Huw always used his wife’s full name whenever he was trying to be serious. ‘Catrin is to locate the nearest safety deposit box at every location – be it an Athenian youth hostel, or a taverna in Kos, whatever …’

‘I don’t think they have safety deposit boxes in crack dens mind, Dad,’ said Catrin’s twenty-one-year-old brother Tom as he sloped sleepily into the kitchen in search of Shredded Wheat.