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with you . . . I’ll see what I can do. I realize you don’t want to go back yet.’ She paused, lifting off her sunglasses to eye her sister with interest. ‘You’ve grown up, little sis, quite the gazelle.’ Evadne smiled as she smoked her cigarette. ‘All that Red Cross stuff’s made you responsible. You did us proud when poor Di was ill. I couldn’t have gone near her. If war comes, you’ll know where to do your bit. I hope I can be useful too.’
    ‘But you’ll have the baby . . .’
    ‘There’s always Nanny. It won’t change our lives so very much. Look at Mummy – when did three children ever stop her doing as she pleased?’ Evadne sat back, relaxed by the thought.
    ‘But we never saw her, it was Nanny who brought us up. I wouldn’t want that for my child.’ Penny leaned forward, sucking on the straw in her coffee.
    ‘It didn’t do us any harm. If you’re that keen you can push my pram when we come home. We won’t be here for ever, but Walter says it’s quite safe. Hitler doesn’t want southern Europe. He’s leaving that to Mussolini, who’s busy being Caesar.’
    Penny shrugged. It was funny how Effy took everything Walter said as gospel. Was that what all married women did?
    ‘I’ll help you with the baby when it comes, but I’d like to see the British School of Archaeology before then. You remember your engagement party and the slide show next day? Someone I met that evening told me that there’s a school here.’ Penny didn’t want to mention Bruce Jardine’s name for fear that Effy would make something of it.
    ‘Oh, yes, we know the Director and his wife and some of their students, a rum lot . . . The women students are so clever, keen types, very eager. They tend to keep themselves to themselves, always off digging up mountains or something dusty. Always look frightful in gumboots and short skirts!’ Evadne hooted.
    ‘I’d like to be an archaeologist,’ Penny sighed. ‘I suppose an assistant is more realistic at the rate I’m going. My drawing’s not up to scratch yet, but I will practise more if I go to classes.’
    ‘I’m certain Mummy doesn’t have an academic career in mind for you. But let’s not talk about that. Where shall we go today? I feel tons better seeing you, and full of energy now.’ Evadne was already up and raring to go.
    In her head, Penny ticked off each day that passed with mounting dread. Why did the beginning of a visit go so slowly and then, as the return loomed, speed up? She was now due to go home via London in September with the Boultons, a diplomatic family whose children were off to boarding school in Cheltenham. She was dreading the day when her suitcases would appear. How could she face dull Britain after city life here, the colours and smells, the Greek chatter? How could she return before she’d seen everything there was to see? Effy was often tired and didn’t want to go far but Penny was not allowed to go out alone.
    In desperation she begged Walter to find an escort and he came up with one of the embassy secretaries, Miss Celia Brand, who took her around the city, pointing out famous shops, and spent hours browsing through windows at the latest fashions, which was not Penny’s idea of fun.
    One afternoon, in desperation, she gave Celia the slip and, having wandered around a little, enjoying her independence, eventually found herself in the backstreets, caught up in a Nationalist demonstration. The street was full of young boys and girls dressed like Boy Scouts and Girl Guides, holding up banners, marching smartly as some of the passers-by stopped to give them the one-armed salute.
    ‘Bravo! Bravo!’ the crowd shouted but Penny didn’t like the look on those ardent faces. ‘What is this?’ she asked and a woman shrugged. ‘Fascist . . . General Metaxas’s young army of thugs,’ she spat on the ground. Suddenly men were shouting insults from balconies. Penny stepped back as black-shirted men peeled off from the march and