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had included an interview with a property manager. Many of the foreign owners rent their houses to other tourists when they are away, he had said. So the key holders get paid well for looking after them. They become responsible for the change-overs and the comfort of the paying guests.
    Marina imagines the stresses of dealing with demanding guests, worried owners, lazy cleaners, and rejects it as a potential career choice …
    ‘ Yes, I would meet and greet the holiday-makers from the hydrofoil, and have a donkey man arranged to load their heavy bags, and charge a little extra on top of his pay, too.’ Zoe lays the spoon across the bowl and puts some imaginary money in her back pocket, and chuckles at her own naughtiness, and shrugs as if to say ‘needs must’.
    ‘ I would arrange the cleaners, and charge a little extra,’ she continues with a twinkle in her eye. ‘A little here, a little there …’
    The documentary had followed some new arrivals on their way to a villa, winding through a maze of narrow lanes. This endorsed their dependence on the key holder, Marina had thought, before they had even set foot inside the property. The tourists would never have been able to find the house alone.
    ‘And you were on call for the guests throughout their stay in the houses?’ Marina asks. Zoe is scraping around the bowl to get the last of the food.
    ‘ Yes. At the end of their stay I would arrange the return trip with the donkey.’ She mimes putting more money in her back pocket, this time holding on to the spoon and smearing gruel on the back of her skirt. ‘They gave good tips because I looked after them.
    ‘ But sometimes it was very stressful. If there were building works nearby it was a problem. If a donkey was too loud, a problem. If the air condition failed, a big problem. With some people, everything was wrong. Then it was hell.’ But Zoe smiles at the memory.
    ‘ Mostly it was a wonderful well paid game,’ Zoe concludes. ‘I had a huge bunch of keys at my belt and all the neighbours wanted to know what they were for. They saw my work as a mystery. Back then there was only me doing it. Now there are more foreign owners and more key holders. But when it was just me I was the only person on the island who knew who lived where, right across the island, both Greek and foreign. Still do, mostly.’ Zoe takes a breath and finishes feeding her mother, putting down the bowl and spoon.
    ‘ I must be off. Come and see me when you’re settled, Marina, and I’ll show you round the island.’ Irini puts Marina’s bag on the floor as she leaves.
    ‘ So, what can I do for you, Mrs Marina?’ Zoe asks.
    ‘ I need a room for a few days, nothing fancy, just somewhere to lay my head.’
    Zoe gives the dish with the spoon to Roula, who passes them through a hatch to what Marina guesses must be the kitchen, without taking her eyes from the television. Zoe wipes her mother ’s mouth on her apron again and then wipes her own hands.
    ‘ Well, you won’t find anything fancy here,’ Zoe says.
    There is a guttural chortle from the corner. Marina focuses on what she had taken to be a pile of clothes, and which now reveals itself to be a diminutive man creased like an old newspaper. His jacket, too big for his scrawny frame, has slid off his shoulder down to his elbow.
    ‘And your fancy days are over!’ Zoe leans over to him and pulls his jacket back onto his shoulder and pats him on the back, smiling kindly, before turning to Marina again.
    ‘ My bother-in-law, Bobby,’ she states, and continues without giving Marina time to acknowledge the introduction. ‘There’s a room two doors along.’ She points towards the tall front door and indicates the way to turn. ‘Shower, fridge, bed, balcony, sea view. No air conditioning, but there’s a ceiling fan.’ She opens a drawer under the table and rummages around until she finds the key. ‘There you go.’
    ‘ Thank you, I need a little lie down.’
    ‘ Yes, is time for