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keep us on his island."
    "Welcome to Sunset Beach," Sam said before her broad tanned face grew a little less placid. "Weren't there more of you?"
    "Just the youngest," Ray said, "and the oldest apart from me."
    "We knew the venue wouldn't be appropriate for our son," Julian said.
    "Too young, you think," Sam said and perhaps agreed. "Sit anywhere you like and Nikos will bring drinks."
    "One soft, thank you," Julian said, "or is anybody besides Jonquil not having alcohol?"
    "Not in this family," Doug said.
    As Ray hoped Julian hadn't taken this for a gibe at him Natalie said "May we know why you've held the meeting here?"
    "Because all our other guests at this end of the island are in Sunset Beach."
    "You didn't plan to try to sell the place to us," Julian said. "There are people here for whom it's wholly inappropriate."
    "I don't really know what you mean," Sam said and went to stand beside a large map of Vasilema. "Welcome again, everyone," she said as the barman brought the Thornton party a trayful of drinks. "I expect I'll be saying that to some of you next year."
    She hadn't much to say about the island's history, though perhaps as much as some of her audience might have the patience for. The island had originally been called Iliovasilema, which meant a sunset. Lord Byron had once said it had "the finest sunsets in this world or any other." During the Second World War Italians occupied the island and shortened its name. Until the present century it hadn't attracted many tourists, but Greece's economic troubles persuaded the islanders to develop holiday resorts, Sunset Beach in particular. "But there's plenty for everyone," Sam said with a glance at Julian, and used a pointer like a thin stake to indicate places on the map while she described them along with tours that were listed in a brochure. "If anyone's interested in any day trips," she said with less conviction than Ray would have expected, "let me know."
    "Don't you do tours off the island?" Pris said.
    "Not too many people go on those." Ray could have thought she resented the question on Vasilema's behalf. "We can book you one," she said.
    "How about trips to your monastery?" Doug said.
    "Which one is that?"
    "St Titus's, who else? He's your patron saint," Doug seemed surprised to have to tell her. "He drove the Arabs out of Crete and here and made your island Christian."
    "There isn't much left of the monastery. I think you'd be wasting your time."
    "That's not how it sounds in our book," Pris said.
    "The book must be out of date. Is there anything else I can set up for you?"
    "We'll let you know in a few minutes," Julian said.
    "Don't be too long, will you? I expect your driver would like to get away."
    "I imagine he can wait until we're ready. We didn't ask for him in the first place."
    Ray glanced towards the minibus. The driver was gazing at the icon that was set above the mirror—St Titus brandishing his spear—but Ray couldn't tell if he was praying. The twilit street had grown a little busier, and beyond a gap between a supermarket and a bar he saw a few people beneath the extravagantly wide umbrellas that sprouted from the beach. As Sam went to a couple who had beckoned her over Julian said "Does anybody want to state a preference?"
    "We usually like to explore a new place as soon as we can," Ray said.
    "We'll put that down as your day, shall we?" Julian said and took out his mobile to make notes. "Who's next? Priscilla?"
    "Definitely the monastery. It can't be all that ruined when it was carved out of the rock."
    "I'll have the cruise around the island," Doug said.
    Julian noted those and said "Natalie, my love."
    "I wouldn't mind seeing other islands. Don't take that personally, Doug."
    "Timothy?"
    When Tim didn't answer, Pris nudged Doug. The boy was gazing at the street with a smile that looked at the very least inviting. "Someone's made a conquest," his mother murmured.
    A girl was silhouetted against the crimson sky above the stretch of beach the