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see. There are plants on Katastrophos that you won’t find growing anywhere else in the world. Fascinating, don’t you think? Of course, my lovely wife doesn’t always come. She’s very much younger than me, as you can see. Prefers a bit of excitement, don’t you, old girl?’
    ‘You bet,’ drawled Diana, winking at Jack.
    Old Charon began gesturing wildly at them to get on board. ‘ Ghríghora !’ he screeched. ‘Hurry!’
    Corrie looked uncertainly at Jack. If she wanted to spend her long-awaited honeymoon on Katastrophos, she had little choice.
    ‘Come on.’ Jack took her arm. ‘I’ll look after you if you look after me.’
    Bracing themselves, they followed the Gordons down into the boat which rocked precariously. Tim and Ellie separated just long enough to climb in, then re-entwined anxiously. The Dobsons appeared to be having a heated debate on the quay during which she could be heard pleading, ‘Please, Ambrose.’ Then they too picked their way down the weed-slimy steps and into the boat.
    The young Greek hippy who had been sitting, staring out to sea, stood up and walked briskly down the jetty. She threw her backpack into the boat, jumped nimbly down and settled herself on some cases of wine stacked up in the stern – as far away from everyone else as possible.
    The old ferryman opened the throttle and the engine changed up an octave from a moaning wail to a high-pitched scream.
    ‘Oi! Wait for me!’ Another passenger came tearing along the jetty and flung himself and his bags headlong into the boat just as it was moving away. He staggered unsteadily to his feet, swayed a bit, then wriggled his behind into a gap between the Dobsons.
    ‘Evening all,’ he said cheerfully. ‘That was a close one.’
    He had a smile that lit up not only his face, but a goodish part of the world around him, like a lighthouse.
    ‘Are you all right, dear?’ asked Marjorie, concerned. ‘You landed with a terrible wallop. You haven’t broken anything, have you?’
    The newcomer peered anxiously into an airport carrier bag and checked the bottles. ‘No, it’s all right, love. Nothing’s broken.’ He rummaged in his pocket, pulled out a deck of business cards and handed them round. ‘Sidney Arthur Foskett. Master plumber. Anything from a dripping tap to a rat up your downpipe. Pleased to meet you.’
    The engine belched a plume of oily smoke high up into the sky and next minute they were bucketing out of the harbour in an erratic zigzag, mainly because half the rudder was missing and Charon had let go of the wheel to light another fag. The old fishing-boat wobbled and dawdled across the dark-blue crescent of the harbour, through the narrow strait between the Oinousai islands and out into the open sea beyond. Somewhere out there, Corrie remembered, were the far lagoons where the Battle of Actium was fought and lost. The thud and swing of the open sea began to make itself felt.
    ‘Well, this is very jolly, I must say. We don’t normally have such good company, do we, Diana?’
    Professor Gordon beamed at everyone over his half-moon spectacles like a benevolent scoutmaster rallying his troop. They were several miles out to sea and the swell was tossing the boat up and down like a roller-coaster. The professor turned to Sidney, who was an unfetching shade of green.
    ‘Have you been to Katastrophos before, old chap?’
    ‘No, squire, and I’m starting to wish I wasn’t going now.’ He put a hand over his mouth and gulped.
    Corrie didn’t dare look at Jack. He got seasick just listening to the shipping forecast. Even the glamorous Diana looked a tad ruffled. Tim and Ellie were leaning over the side, still welded together, even while throwing up. Only Marjorie seemed calm, passing tissues to Ambrose who alternated between vicious defamation of the travel company and saying goodbye to his breakfast, lunch and tea. The young woman in the stern, whilst not physically sick, was clutching the rails and looking grimly at