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His hazel and gold-flecked eyes regarded her silently while she blew her nose loudly and tried to compose herself. She pulled a scrunchy out of her pocket, shook her mane of thick black hair and pulled it back into the hair band.

‘I’m sorry,’ she said, ‘I hate crying.’

‘There is nothing wrong with tears,’ he said, giving her time to recover. He was in no hurry.

Teresa brought over a long, cool glass of Coke for the young woman, and a short tumbler of ouzo for Demetrios.

‘Yiamas.’ He lifted his glass in toast.

‘Thank you.’ She gulped quickly at the Coca-Cola.

He nodded but didn’t press her to speak, feeling sure she would do so in her own time. Instead he watched the busy waterfront, where the day-trippers who’d disembarked from the first ferry of the day along with the girl were happily taking photos of everything in sight.

‘Feeling better?’

‘A little. I’m sorry, you must think I’m a right wet blanket.’

It was a long time since he had heard someone use that term and it made him want to smile, but he suppressed it. ‘Ready to tell me what happened?’

‘The usual stupid mistake: I fell asleep on the boat and someone stole my money and my passport. Now I’m stuck.’

‘And here I was thinking that you were about to tell me your story of betrayal and a broken heart.’

She gave him a weak smile. ‘Nothing that exciting, I’m afraid.’

‘How disappointing. I’m sure it would have been a very romantic and dramatic account, and we could have shed tears together.’

The girl laughed despite herself and Demetrios saw the way her face lit up, lending her a beauty he was sure she was not aware of.

‘It is quite dramatic, being robbed,’ she told him.

‘Yes, I agree. But it is good news, in a sense, because we can help you. A broken heart? Maybe we would not have been so helpful, no?’

‘True. But I’m not sure there’s a consulate here, so I’d have to go all the way back to Crete.’ He saw the girl’s lip wobble, and she bit down quickly on it to make it stop, ‘They took all my money, I’ll have to go home …’

‘I have a few connections here,’ he told her, hoping he didn’t sound as if he were boasting. ‘If you trust me to make a few phone calls, then I may be able to help. What is your name?’

‘Grace Taylor.’

He called Teresa over and told her what had happened. She gave a shocked cry then immediately began to make a fuss of Grace.

‘Please, I’d like to call my parents, if possible.’

Teresa nodded and took her inside to use the payphone, giving the girl a handful of coins from the till.

Meanwhile, Demetrios took his Nokia out of his pocket and made a few calls. Moments later, the police arrived. Demetrios sat by and listened while she told her story. The taverna began to fill up with locals, intrigued by the police presence and wanting to know what all the fuss was about. Unfazed, the girl patiently repeated her story. Observing her poise and cool-headedness, Demetrios couldn’t help but be impressed.

Eventually, the police went away and the crowd dispersed, and Demetrios came to sit with her again. ‘Did you speak with your father?’ he asked.

‘Yes, he’s offered to wire me some money.’

Demetrios nodded. ‘A good man.’

‘He’s definitely that. I think he wants me to come home, though.’

‘And do you want to go home?’ he asked her.

‘No, not at all. I’ve been looking forward to this trip forever, it would be awful to have to turn around and go home when I’ve only just got here.’