ZORBA tended his crops carefully. It was not till mid morning that he inspected the fields by the seashore. By then the crops would have begun to multiply and grow vigorously and he could begin to estimate the size and potential of the day's harvest.

He sighed with contentment and patted his paunch. Yes - they were doing nicely - growing fine. Admittedly there were a few pale, weedy crops here and there, but he knew that with luck, and sunshine, the most unpromising of saplings could produce the most abundant fruit. He knew because his father had told him so.

All the same, Zorba clicked his worry beads nervously as he approached the Midas Hotel.

The fields and grazing land were still held to be common property but, by its sheer extent, the hotel had enclosed a sizable stretch of the beach. And it was on Aphrodite Beach - whose sands extended from the town to the hotel - where grew the most profitable cash-crops.

It was not that Zorba did not appreciate the new farming methods. They resulted, when all was said and done, in increased profits and turnover. Take the case of his cousin, Stephano. Stephano ran the restaurant at the new hotel. They both bought their wine from the same wholesaler at the same price, but Stephano managed to sell his for three, even four times the price Zorba obtained at his taverna. It was all good, sound economics. (Zorba owned the Adonis Taverna, situated half way between the town and the hotel at an attractive point on Aphrodite Beach.)

No, in fact, he admired the new methods. Just look how the crops grew in nice, straight lines. It made gathering the harvest so much easier and, after all, you had to progress.

But, in quiet, reflective moments, Zorba admitted to himself that he did not get the same pleasure out of his crops that he used to - years ago. Now there seemed to be no need for all his years of experience and expertise. He had, after all, pioneered many of the methods. He was all too sadly aware that almost all of his old friends had adopted the new style of Athenian entrepreneurship. He growled, thinking of his son.

Nevertheless, the crops were doing nicely - growing fine. Perhaps he was a bit old fashioned? Set in his ways? Out of impulse, he got out his fork and prodded a fresh, pink rump. Indeed, it was browning nicely. I n a week, or perhaps even less, it would be done to a turn.

Prudence gave a yelp and turned over. A wily Greek face peered down at her. The man was holding a fork in one hand. The cheek of it! he was smiling!

"Madame," exclaimed Zorba with a gracious bow.

He smiled and doffed his cap - just as his father has taught him so many years ago.

Prudence was too shocked speak. She had just been assaulted! Instinctively she stiffened and covered her breasts, fearing a second, frontal attack. What could she do? Call the police? She stealthily peered around the beach. Where on earth was William? She inwardly cursed all men and husbands in particular, and then gave a sigh of relief. There were plenty of people within easy screaming distance.

The immediate problem over, Prudence relaxed, though she still hugged her breasts defensively.

What could she do?

She glowered to no effect. The bronze face still gazed down upon her. She wished that he would get it over and done with. Funny? There seemed to be no sexual interest in the eyes whatsoever; in fact, the gaze seemed concerned, solicitous - almost paternal.

Suddenly Prudence giggled. She couldn't help herself. She had never been molested in such an odd manner before. (The paunch was quite reassuring.) In fact, it had been a very long time since she had been molested at all. She lay back and closed her eyes.

Zorba smiled. This was a healthy sapling. Well matured but good, promising responses. Once more he bowed courteously and then continued on his way down the beach.

After a few moments, Prudence opened her eyes. She watched the old man's gentle progress as he ambled slowly between the rows of reclining figures. A word here - a smile and a caress there. Finally he sat down on a wooden seat under a eucalyptus tree near the beach.

She rubbed the sore patch on her rump and turned on her stomach. Why? He was just a harmless, old eccentric. In a way she felt comforted - protected. For, as he sat under the tree -so still - with an old cap pulled low over his brow, he gradually merged into the landscape. And then, as he gazed along the beach and out to sea, Prudence felt as though he was tending them - he the shepherd, they his sheep.

She lay on her stomach and purred as the sun blazed down and soon dozed off to sleep.

The morning inspection over, Zorba sat under the eucalyptus tree while counted his crops.

There was the Englishman from his hotel. (Zorba also owned the Hotel Sophocles, though he seldom made an appearance there. It was quite capably run by his wife.) The youth looked rather out of place, sitting on a high-stool by the beach bar. Like a lettuce in a field of asparagus. No. Not one of his most profitable crops. Only one to a room.

It was quite true, thought Zorba, what they said about the English and the midday sun. He had found the youth staggering down the road well past midnight and had helped him to his room. The Englishman spoke gibberish. About 'plastic tables?' 'Goats?' 'Beasts of prey?'

"Christos!"

Zorba swore, for he had just seen his son walking towards the beach. That boy! Preening himself as usual. He frowned. His son should be at the taverna, scrubbing floors and washing dishes.

"These youngsters today," he growled.

It was mid-morning and Simon had risen late - much later than the sun which had not yet reached its full frenzy. He sat on a bar stool and sipped a drink, hoping that Mrs Robinson and her daughter would make an appearance. After all, yesterday was yesterday. He winced and hoped that it had all been a bad dream. And the view was very pleasant.

Simon inspected the beach, the blue sea and the horizon.

But damn it! Yesterday had been no dream. He would recognise those white teeth anywhere. They would haunt him in his dreams. But what was the Greek youth doing?

Spiros walked to the water's edge and dipped his toe in the blue sea, as though testing for temperature. Deciding that the water was yet too cold, he delicately drew his toe out as though it were a baby's bottom. He then swiveled his hips - thus exhibiting the pectorals to their best advantage,

As he strutted his elegant way past the rows of reclining figures, some of the women ran for cover, or dived into the water.

Simon thought it was rather like watching Moses part the Red Sea.

But then Spiros spotted the morning's entertainment. There - under a huge, colourful parasol - sat a girl alone. Plain, white skin indicated a new arrival. He flexed his arms and shoulder blades and crowed.

So that was it!

Comprehension dawned and, as Simon watched the Greek make a preliminary sortie, he leaned forward with extreme interest. Perhaps, if he observed carefully, he might be able to pick up a few points?

The girl was gazing out to sea.

The Greek strolled past, then returned a few moments later, in the opposite direction. Then he stood in front of her, obstructing her view of the sea.

"Ah, ha, the opening gambit," thought Simon.

The Greek stood still for a moment. He then slunk towards the water, swinging his buttocks. Obviously professional at work. How on earth did do it without high heels?

At the water's edge, the Greek repeated his toe-dip, torso swivel.

The girl glanced up, sniffed and turned away.

Simon nodded

"First attract the attention,” he murmured and reached for his biro to take notes.

The girl had returned to her philosophical inspection of the sea and the distant horizon when, suddenly, a voice intruded on the scene.

"My, she's going to be a tough one to crack."

Simon turned. An Englishman stood by the bar.

"Yes,” Simon replied.

The portly gentleman raised his arms in despair.

“How is he going to cope” he said.

They grinned at each other.

"I'm Simon."

"I'm William."

They shook hands and returned their attention to the beach.

All watched the build up to the approach. Women half-rose from deck chairs and sunglasses were raised, A crowd of Greeks had gathered by road and Simon noted, out of the corner of his eye, that a few notes were being furtively exchanged. Were bets being taken? A few binoculars had been produced and a few ribs had been nudged. A hush descended on the scene and, all that could be heard, was the gentle rustle of the surf on the sand.

Meanwhile, Spiros had nonchalantly strolled over to one of the deck chairs that lay at frequent intervals along the beach. He reclined, lazily stretching out his arms, and yawned. Then he delicately rubbed one of his long, oiled legs with the instep of his foot.

The girl still stared out to sea.

The Greek rose once more, walked again to the water's edge and took a short swim.

Simon noted that, when he returned, he had moved quite a few deck-chairs nearer to the girl. He was making the approach! Simon leaned further forward. Damn! He could hear nothing but the lapping of water and the cicada.

Spiros looked to the left and to the right, flicking his hand through the comb of his hair. He made a few pecking motions of his head in the direction of the girl. She backed away, making converse motions of hers.

Would he mount her on the beach?

There was a sudden flash of white teeth in the sunlight and a smile and he girl turned round from the sea.

God! Simon gave a start. It was Mrs Robinson's daughter! That face with its distinctive, upturned nose - was visible even from the beach bar.

”The greedy sod," complained Simon, "What on earth does he want two of them for?"

William concurred heatedly though he had little idea of his companion's real despair.

Simon grasped at straws. Perhaps she would turn the Greek down? Perhaps she would be washing her hair that evening? Seconds passed like hours. More words were spoken. It was like watching a game of poker. Would the Greek win? Simon looked on in anguish. Perhaps the Greek would drop dead? Every cloud had a silver lining -or so he had been told.

No! The girl rose from her towel, gathered her possessions, and meekly followed Spiros off the beach. She walked a few paces behind him.

It was as though Jesus had just summoned a new disciple.

A feeling akin to rejection tore through Simon's beating breast. He felt as though he had lost the game, even though he had not played a hand. No! That was not quite true. He had already come face to face with that upturned nose and had felt the full opprobrium of the sniff. The sniff was a challenge - provocative - in its way.

“It is likely, he commented, “that the Greek had succeeded where many have failed.”

William raised the palms of his hand.

“Well - maybe,” he said

The crowd by the road slowly dispersed and sunglasses were lowered, All returned to the sun god.

Simon ordered another drink and gulped it down.

As he watched the couple disappear - down the same road that he had seen the Greek take the girl from the promenade the previous evening - it seemed as though the Greek clucked and crowed.

"Life," he moaned silently.

William placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder.

"Have another drink," he suggested.

Simon gulped it down.

After a third drink and an hour, Simon he calmed down. The sun, sea and warm air did the rest. There was still much to admire . Mounds, peaks, valleys and gently declining slopes as far as the eye could behold.

Why! A girl even stood by the shore's edge, dressed demurely in shorts and a halter top. As she dipped her foot in the water, her back arched gracefully against the blue sky.

Simon sipped his drink appreciatively.

Mrs Robinson perched on the edge of her bed and puffed nervously at a cigarette. It was quite a nice room, she thought. The walls were white-washed and had attractive, coloured rugs as adornment. Rug matting covered the floor. Two beds lay close together and verandah windows led to a balcony with a view out to sea. If one breathed in deeply it might just be possible to squeeze onto the balcony and then, by straining one's neck and peering sideways, it might just to be possible to see the beach.

But Mrs Robinson's mind was otherwise occupied.

She eyed the other bed in the room. There was a disheveled, barely slept-in look about it and her daughter had rushed out onto the beach early that morning.

The previous evening, Elizabeth had wanted to go to the disco. Her plea had been made in the same voice that she had used as a child when she wanted to go to the toilet.

Mrs Robinson could not refuse.

Now she looked at her watch. It was now nearly lunchtime and her daughter had not yet returned.

“These youngsters today," she muttered.

It seemed unlikely that Elizabeth would make an appearance before evening so she decided to catch a bus into town.

She waited at the bus-stop by the wrought-iron gates.

This bus-stop was elegantly composed of a vine tree with a time-table nailed to its tacky stem. Under its branches - Mrs Robinson hid from the heat of the sun. She was an English rose and did not transplant easily.

A cloud of red dust pulled round the corner.

Tentatively, she put out a hand from under the tree. The sun beat mercilessly down on her exposed skin,

She screamed.

An immediate retreat was made to the bus-stop where she nursed an injured hand under the cool shade of its branches.

The red cloud stopped

She looked up hopefully for a passing cloud. None were in the sky. But it was only a short run to the bus and its dark interior beckoned invitingly.

The bus purred.

"Ayos?" inquired a dark face, poking out of the door.

"Hum? Oh – yes?"

The bus chugged impatiently while Mrs Robinson thought about the offer. There was only one road into town and the bus seemed to be pointing in the right direction. She tried to decipher an unfamiliar script above the driver's window.

Dark faces peered interestedly down at her from the windows.

Madame?"

"Oh My!" said Mrs Robinson exclaimed with confusion and not a little apprehension as the decision was taken from her. A strong arm emerged from the bus, plucked her off the road, and she was deposited inside the bus.

"Oh, thank you, driver," she said with petite courtesy.

She perched on a seat, flustered and a little alarmed. Already she was aware that, though the native population might take hours deciding on a course of action, it’s execution would be carried out at tremendous speed. Indeed, the bus roared off with a grinding of gears

Mrs Robinson's maternal stomach lurched with the bus as it curved around the corner. She struggled to the rear window and stared at the disappearing beach. There was her daughter sitting safe in a taverna. Her pretty, sun-burnt, up-turned nose shone like a cat's eye on a dark road and was easily visible from the bus.

Relieved, she edged onto a seat next to an old woman, dressed in black. She accidentally jogged a cardboard box that the old woman carried on her lap.

"Whoops."

"Baa! Baa!"

"Oh my!"

Mrs Robinson recoiled. The head of a young lamb poked out of the box and bleated pitifully every few seconds.

"I am so sorry," she apologised, then peered around the bus while she tried to calm her shattered nerves.

Before her sat a young girl almost dressed in a blue bikini. The girl's dark, sun-tanned skin was covered in down and flecks of golden sand and Mrs Robinson was tempted to reach out and stroke her. The girl wore golden earrings which sparkled and she was mesmerised.

Music blared from a loudspeaker suspended from the roof by a bare flex. The bus screeched to a halt at a stop convenient for the taverna where he daughter sat and Mrs Robinson was tempted to get out after the beautiful girl who moved towards the door. There was a sudden uneasy silence as hungry eyes followed the girl's slender form and graceful movements. Then the bus sprayed a cloud of fine, red dust as it accelerated down the road.

Mrs Robinson tapped a nervous foot to the music and waited impatiently for the town to come into view.

Prudence awoke, yawned and turned on her side, Ah, there was her husband.

"William! WILLIAM! I'm over here."

William peered along the rows of bodies on the beach. He had left beach bar and had ambled down the beach, hoping to come across his wife. He was puzzled. Ah, the twenty fifth body on the third row had a mouth open. That must be his wife?

He ambled over.

Prudence viewed her approaching husband with apprehension. From a distance, it seemed as though he was in a good mood.

Now he was above her.

“Prudence, where have you been?” he said.

“Where have I been ? Of all the --”

She muffled her reply, “No arguments, please,” and crossed her fingers.

“Let;s walk into town. Its only a few miles,” said her husband.

“But, William, it’s too hot.”

“Nonsense, woman.”

He strode off.

Prudence slipped on her dress, picked up her belongings and followed meekly behind him.

Zorba sighed as his crops dispersed from the beach. Watering and feeding time was approaching. Indeed, the crops had started to wither badly - parched in the mid-day sun. He rose from his cool seat under the eucalyptus tree, unpadlocked his bike from the wrought-iron gates and peddled into town.

Mrs Robinson alighted from the bus at the harbour quay just in front of a kiosk that seemed to sell everything. She bought some insect repellent.

Not much change from such a large note she thought, as she fingered a few coins and walked up the main street. She glanced backwards, over her shoulder. The girl who had served her smiled sweetly and waved.

But Mrs Robinson was too tired to think. Her nerves had been strung up by the bus trip and she hardly slept the previous night.

"One hundred and ten in the shade,” had been muttered in the bar.

She knew the remark would be repeated when they all returned home - as though dark skins had been achieved at great personal cost.

And then the night had been sultry. A hot wind had blown. Then she had been aroused by a slight rumble and seen the light bulb, suspended from the ceiling, sway. She had rushed down the stairs in fright.

"Ees nothing,“ said the concierge, ‘Eees earth tremor. Sometimes ‘appens at time of year.”

Now, as she walked through the main street, she inspected the sky and the mountains. Both seemed solid enough and the sun beat down

She entered one of the shops.

It was dark inside and refreshingly cool. Pottery was for sale. The next shop sold clothes; the next was a bank, and then a post-office. A visit could easily be made to all three. She calculated that, if she spent some time in each shop, she would reach the main square in a few hours. Thus too prolonged an exposure to the sun would be avoided.

Some tables and chairs could just be seen at the far end of the street and, in the distance, a fountain and a church. Its clock-face and the rumblings of her stomach proclaimed the approach of lunch-time.

Mrs Robinson decided that, after her shopping expedition, she would have a cold drink and something to eat under the shade of a plane-tree which was just visible at the junction of the main street and a square.

Simon sat at a table in the interior of a café among the olive-trees behind the town. He nibbled at a lunch of tomato salad and drunk from a bottle of white wine. He had taken a walk in the hills to clear his mind before meeting Douglas in the afternoon. He sipped at the wine more to numb his embarrassed thoughts than out of thirst, for it had happened again!

He had stopped at the office of 'Hermes Tours' on his way through the town. Now that the Greek had appropriated Mrs Robinson's daughter, might not the other girl selling the tours be free? He had entered the door with jacket thrown nonchalantly over one shoulder and a heart that beat wildly. But she had not been there. A Greek girl sat behind a desk.

"You van't Pollee?" she had asked.

So that was her name.

"Pollee?" the girl had repeated.

How could she have known? Of course! What an idiot he was. Many men must have entered the office for that very same reason. The girl's dark eyes had drilled into his brain with what seemed to be disgust. He might well have plaintively asked "Since when was falling in love a crime." For that was the case. But, on reflection, he supposed her look was for the way he had walked into the door post on his way in.

Sitting in the café among the olive-groves, he reddened at the thought.

Those sunglasses had certainly been a bad buy. He had bought them at the same shop from which he had purchased the sackful of postcards. Any air of mystery the glasses might have imparted - any glamour - was soon cancelled out if one could barely see through them. Sunglass technique was a skill the Latin race absorbed at birth while those from a more temperate climate required lessons.

Nevertheless, the memory of his encounter with the Greek girl in the agency, and the look on her face, smarted.

"Pollee - ees not 'ere," she had repeated, angrily tapping her fingers on the counter.

From her desk in the travel agency, at a prominent position on the town promenade, there was little that Ariadne, the black-eyed receptionist did not know.

She viewed every evening parade from a vantage point and had seen the Englishman's aborted approach to Polly the previous night.

But her anger was due more to Pollee - Niki's young English niece - who had appropriated the top floor of the travel agency. Yes! Pollee, who was trying to steal the affections of Spiros whom Ariadne had known since she was a little girl.

“No Pollee," she had said again.

"Oh well then."

Simon had flinched as she spoke. For some reason he had not wanted her to know of his passion. Trying to hide his disappointment, he had peered at the notice board above her head. The board advertised the latest excursions.

“T.t.t.to Phaestos," he had stammered, asking for the first excursion on the list.

Then he had grabbed the ticket out of her hand, paid the money and stumbled hurriedly down the steps away from her gaze. It was not until he reached the end of the promenade that he realised the girl had misunderstood him, and had handed over two tickets.

Oh, well he now thought, as he nibbled at the salad, perhaps Douglas would come with him? The coach did not depart until the following afternoon. He finished the meal and a handsome waiter brought the bill. The waiter sported a dashing pair of sunglasses.

Simon growled

But the view through the café door presented a picturesque sight and, as opened his bag, he surreptitiously eyed his remaining postcards. Ah - here was one of the view - and a picture of the café.

Simon paid for his meal with one last glance at the view. The olive trees were brightly and greenly illuminated by the sun. Chickens and wild geese ran loose. Goats were tethered by the door. A white Byzantine church and what seemed to be a village in the distance completed the scene. The village, perched midway up a mountain, looked very picturesque and might repay a visit.

He headed back towards the town and Aphrodite Beach where he was due to meet Douglas. He soon reached the main square where he halted, confused. All the cafés seemed to have amalgamated. Waiters darted in and out of doors set into the buildings. They created a vivid impression of white shirts, white teeth and black trousers.

But Simon had not yet visited the square at this particular time of day when the sun shone directly overhead. The trellis of vines at the café corner had been augmented with an awing and even the outer perimeter of tables, those which escaped the shade of the vines, had been given intimate, comforting, personal protection - in the form of coloured parasols. He noted that the relationship, and positioning, of the tables and chairs was far more complex than he had previously supposed. It was obvious that, by deft arrangement and re-arrangment of all - of table, chair,awning and parasol that the square could be kept in shade all day long. Thus the tables and chairs ebbed and receded, across the square, in tune with the sun's progress across the sky. How intriguing?

It was while pondering this phenomenon that Simon backed into Mrs Robinson.

By deft maneuvering between shop interior, shop front and shop awning, Mrs Robinson had finally achieved her object that of reaching the town's main square without suffering too much exposure from the rays of the sun. She was about to sit down at one of the tables under the shade of the plane-tree, when she backed into Simon who had just found his way to his favourite seat by the café corner.

"Oh, excuse me,” she said.

"Yes?" replied Simon.

"Simon?"

"Yes?

Oh, Mrs Robinson.

What a surprise."

They both apologised and sat down at the table,

Zorba approached and beamed down.

“Parakalo/” he said.

Simon asked for a beer and Mrs Robinson ordered a meat salad.

He sipped politely as she wolfed down the meal. She ate ravenously. Juice from the meat dribbled down the corners of her mouth and dripped onto the ground.

Mrs Robinson noticed his interest.

"Blood corpuscles," she said, while continuing to bite into the flesh.

"Yes?" Simon queried - politely.

Then she told of the terrors of the previous night - of the howling wind; her daughter and the swaying light bulbs. In between bites she told of mosquitoes like Stuka pilots - diving down like crazed Kamakazi suicide squads; a high pitched whine, then silence as they hit her legs - higher - and then higher - must replenish the blood," she finished.

"Yes, the mosquitoes are bad this year," commiserated Simon.

He complimented Mrs Robinson on her powers of description.

"Mosquito net?" he suggested.

"Oh, What a good idea, Simon.”

Her face brightened at the thought of a peaceful night's sleep and she greedily sucked the remaining meat juice off her fingers.

While she did so, Simon debated whether or not to ask her if she would care to accompany him to Phaestos.? He reasoned that if she said yes, he would not only have solved the problem of what to do with the extra ticket. After all, Douglas might not be able to come. (He had said that he hoped to meet up with his girl friend, who had come to Greece with her mother) But certain possibilities might be opened up for the following day's entertainment. He might also meet Elizabeth again. All in all, it seemed like a good idea.

By the way," he said casually, "I happen to have a spare ticket for an excursion to Phaestos tomorrow. I wonder - would you care to come?"

"Well - I don't know."

Mrs Robinson demurred while she thought about the offer. There was her daughter to consider but, the way things were going, it would seem unlikely that she would see much of Elizabeth in the near future. Of course, Simon would be company and, far more important than that, he would provide a certain amount of protection from all those brown, piercing eyes.

"Why thank you. Simon,” she said, "It'll be a pleasure. I'd love to come."

She smiled and licked the last of the meat juice from her finger-tips.

They agreed to meet at the same café the following afternoon.

Simon rose from the table.

"That will be fine,” he said, "Good bye, Mrs Robinson."

"Good bye, Simon.”

“About two o'clock then?"

"Two o'clock."

Simon headed towards Aphrodite Beach where he was due to meet Douglas near a taverna that he had spotted about a mile down the beach in the direction of the new hotel.

Mrs Robinson paid the bill, then headed back in the direction of her bed for what she thought of as a well earned siesta. She found the bus-station and boarded her bus.

As they passed the taverna at which her daughter had been seated, Mrs Robinson sighed with relief. Elizabeth was still there. Two other girls had joined her. Al three girls were beautiful. She saw a mop of indigo hair, an upturned nose and she was temporarily blinded by a flash of white light from a pair of golden ear-rings.

She also saw a couple heading into town and recognised them from the previous night. She waved. The couple had been rowing then - and rowing in the hotel lobby. It would seem as though the row had continued unabated through the night and was still in progress as they walked along the beach. She stuck an arm out of the window and waved again. They peered in the direction of the bus, but made no response. She sat back on her seat. They might turn up in the bar that night? Perhaps they would be company?

Mrs Robinson waited nervously for the bus to pull up at the hotel.

William plodded slowly behind his wife as they made their way down Aphrodite Beach

"God, its hot." he said,

They had walked for one mile already and his stomach seemed to get heavier with each step. He clutched his paunch with both hands as though support would make the burden lighter. As he did so, pairs of Greek eyes stared at him, and then their owners nodded to each other approvingly. William wondered why?

"Water, water everywhere and not a drop to drink," he croaked pitifully to his wife's back.

"William, will you stop complaining, " her back seemed to reply.

Prudence bit her lip. It was going to be one of those days. She turned on her perspiring husband.

"Look," she said, “You were the one who insisted on walking."

They faced each other on the beach.

"How do you suggest we get about?" he complained, "Hovercraft? Space-shuttle?"

Prudence shuddered. It really was going to be an unpleasant afternoon.

"There are roads," she said defensively, pointing to a rough track running parallel to the shore-line.

"Roads?”

William peered around inquisitively. He gazed to the fore, shading his brow with one hand, like an explorer. In the distance, he could see the main road.

"Oh yes, I see," he said.

He attempted to avert both eyes and ears. The buzzing of motorbikes all but drowned the buzzing of the cicadae. Red dust rose in a cloud. He blinked. A huge dust storm approached. Was that an arm appearing out of the mist? The cloud soon passed, leaving a view of the road. Along its edge spread what seemed to be the outskirts of a shanty town - rough unfinished buildings. He could hardly bare to look.

"We could have hired bicycles, or even a motorbike," continued Prudence.

"How about a donkey?" suggested William petulantly, "Or you could have asked one of those Greeks to give us a piggy-back."

He stopped still. His arms hung straight by his sides and his hands, clenched into fists, dug belligerently into his hips.

"William, what do you mean?" she said with concern.

William's amusement at the episode of the beach bar and the glow provided by a few martinis had long since departed.

"Well, you've been behaving like a star-struck schoolgirl ever since we arrived," he said

"WILLIAM! I have not!" she replied.

She denied the accusation almost too vehemently and then blushed, for there was some truth in what her husband had said. Luckily something else seemed to be wrong, for he had put both hands over his ears and gone white.

"Prudence," he pleaded, "Please don't shout. My head aches."

Prudence laughed.

"Well I told you not to drink that wine last night."

"I had one glass."

"One glass?"

"What was it called?" he inquired, “ "Domestos ?"

"RealIy! It was called Domestica and you finished up the whole bottle."

William put his hands protectively over his forehead and groaned.

"Please? Don't remind me."

They had walked half the distance from the hotel to the town and were now virtually opposite the Adonis Taverna. At this point, the road was at some distance from the beach. It had been diverted by an outcrop of rock and the beach was restfully quiet.

"Look. This seems a nice restaurant, " said Prudence in her best peacemaking voice, "Let's stop here and sit in the shade."

"A nice restaurant? Hah!"

To William's eyes, the restaurant had all the appeal of a motorway cafe. Wooden tables covered in oil-cloths were placed on a wooden platform - in front of a concrete shack with a glass front. He saw 'THE ADONIS SNACK BAR RESTAURANTE CAFE TAVERNA' on a sign illustrated with what he thought to be Dionysus spearing a fish with a trident. A blackboard the door announced PERSEUS RENTABIKE: FASTEST WHEELS IN TOWN: RING NIKI 3425 2235'. Underneath was inscribed 'CHEAPO!~ CHEAPO!!' in chalk lettering. Underneath that was a further advertisement for 'HERMES TOURS: town promenade'.

William and Prudence walked onto the wooden platform which was shaded by a trellis of vines. A dead wasp floated in a small carafe of olive-oil on the table before them.

"Let's go home?" begged William.

Prudence knew that her husband was in no mood to enjoy anything.

"Beauty is in the eye of the beholder," she cajoled, "Sit down. Its nice."

William inspected the view.

"What do we have here? A frieze? And who might this be? A rather podgy Dionysus, I presume?"

"Its quite delightful." I do so agree. Folk art. How charming. He appears to be spearing a fish with a fork? No-I'm wrong. Its a trident. Prudence, I do believe he's caught our supper!”

"What?"

”Whale cutlets.”

“Oh! Stop it! Sit down. Have something to drink. It'll cool you down."

“Ouch. You reminded me. My poor head."

Prudence couldn't help smiling. It was suitable revenge for spoiling her holiday.

“I do believe you've got a hangover,” she said smugly.

"Hum. Must have been the acid fumes.”

”Come on. Sit down. Over here.”

Prudence led her husband to one of the tables.

”My God," he said, "What's that?""

He pointed to the table-top.

”Honestly,” said Prudence, '"Its a carafe of olive oil.”

“No - in the bottle.”

“I can't see anything," she replied defensively, 'Where?”

”lt's a dead wasp. Let's go home?”

”Sit down. The sun must be going down soon."

"Thank God for that," said William as he flopped down on one of the wooden chairs.

Prudence was exasperated.

"Please don't spoil my holiday," she complained, "We've only been here for one day and you've been quite unbearable."

William raised his eyebrows in shock.

"Unbearable? ME?"

He gazed at his wife, astonished.

"You don't like the sun, " she continued, "You can't stand the food, you hate the hotel and, what's more, I don't think you like me."

Prudence felt like crying as she catalogued his sins.

William replied patiently, ticked the items off on his fingers.

"I like civilisation, Prudence. I like good wine. I like food; books, the theatre and I like my meat cooked - all the way through."

He glowered as he delivered his final remark.

Prudence could concede a point there, but still she refused to give in.

"Well,"she said, "You are here now. so don't let's row."

She glanced around the taverna. There was no sign of a waiter and little more of customers. Three girls sat at a table near the beach. They were pretty. Prudence was reminded of a frieze she had seen in a museum, but she could not quite place it.

"Its not very busy, is it?" she said.

"Its the siesta," her husband grumbled, "And we should be sleeping too."

Prudence ignored him.

"There's just us," she continued, "And those three girls. Aren't they pretty?"

William sniffed as he inspected the girl's table.

But, at that moment, their peace was disturbed.

"Cor, Lizzie, Look over there."

One of the girls put all her fingers in her mouth and blew a loud wolf-whistle.

A Greek youth was walking down the beach.

William covered his ears.

"Oh, my poor head," he moaned.

The girl now whispered quietly to her companion.

"Cor, Lizzie,” she said,

Elizabeth swivel her nose and gazed admiringly at her new friend.

"Cor,” she said.

Elizabeth had met Suzy at the "Medusa disco' the previous evening.

Prudence looked at her husband with alarm.

"William! William!" she cried, “Are you all right?"

He had gone ashen and was clutching his heart.

"Those two girls brazen,” he spluttered, “the little hussies."

"But they're lovely," said Prudence enviously.

"What's the colour of that one's hair?" he asked, pointing to the prettier of the two girls.

Prudence thought about it. "Indigo?" she suggested.

"Hum! Puce, I think," mused William.

There was a moment's silence.

"But do you think they're punks?" he added in horror.

At that word, Polyhymnia, the third girl of the party - who was seated away from the other girls - and was engrossed in a book, pricked up her ears. Punks? She had met the two girls at the 'Medusa disco' the previous night and was quite taken with them. She hadn't come across anything like it since the Maenads.

She made a mental note and returned to her book.

Just then, the girl with the indigo hair shouted again.

"Lizzie, look. There's another one."

William watched on,

"'God, those girls couldn't be more than fifteen years old," he exclaimed to his wife, "Shameless."

Prudence looked dreamily at the girl with golden ear-rings.

“1 wish I could wear that bikini," she sighed.

William huffed. "I wish she would wear it," he said.

Suzy gave one last scream.

"Look lizzie! Wow Liz! He can ring my bell anytime."

"And mine," added Elizabeth pensively.

William spoke to his wife.

"And to think they're English. I can recognise those dulcet tones anywhere."

He moved his chair slightly and leaned over towards the girls' table.

"Excuse me?" he said.

There was no reply.

"Ladies, excuse me," he said again.

Suzy looked over.

"Clacton, I presume?" inquired William.

Suzy sniffed.

"'Naw, Luton airport," she said.

Elizabeth giggled.

"Well! I never!" William huffed and turned to his wife.

Suzy was getting a bit bored.

"Where's Spiros?" she asked her friend.

They both gazed with longing at the glass partition of the taverna. The taverna's interior seemed to be deserted.

"Hey - Spiros - out 'ere," shouted Suzy.

"Spiros," echoed Elizabeth.

William, who was thirsty, pricked up his ears.

"Spiros?" he queried, "ls he the waiter?"

He directed his question towards Elizabeth who the communicative of the three girls. A small, upturned, sunburnt nose swivelled in his direction. his heart skipped a beat.

"Spiros, he's gorgeous,”said Elizabeth.

"Not much luck there, " he thought.

"Hey lover boy”, shouted Suzy, "Show yerself."

William removed his glasses, slowly polished them, put them on again and calmly inspected Suzy.

"Oh, quiet, you little minx," he said.

"-Huh,”she replied, "Enjoying yourself, grandpa."

Then Suzy folded her arms and sulked.

William looked to his wife for support.

"Prudence?" he asked plaintively, "Were we like that?"

Prudence was quite enjoying herself. It was not often that her husband was so discomforted.

"Don't be such a prude, “ she said.

"Prude?

"ME? "

"Yes, prude."

William could see that it would be unlikely that he could win the argument. He changed the subject:

"Where's that damn waiter?"

"Yes - change the subject.”

"But its so undignified.”

Prudence wasn't going to let her husband off his hook so easily and fe t, moreover, that she should support her sex.

"But William?" she argued, "men have been behaving like that for centuries. Its our turn now. Isn't it girls?"

They both nodded.

'Well," said William, "I hope they get a good price. That's all I've got to say.“

He folded his arms and sulked. He was outnumbered four to one.

“WILLIAM! Apologise!"

He turned to face the beach.

Prudence was angry.

"Well, I wouldn't say no," she said.

Her husband turned around.

"Prudence, What do you mean?”

“Those Greek boys are handsome. Even you must admit that.”

He gazed at the bronze, oiled bodies laying across the beach. He gazed for a few seconds.

"No," he said reflectively, "Far too greasy."

"Huh?” said Suzy.

“Its all the olive-oil they eat," he continued.

Suzy looked blankly at Elizabeth and then at William with a puzzled expression on her face.

"It comes out of the pores," he added by way of explanation.

"You are just jealous," said Prudence.

"Jealous? ME?"

"Yes, jealous. And those girls have got courage."

She leaned over to their table.

"Girls? Girls?'

They looked up.

"Have you come on your own?" she inquired.

"Well?

Almost," replied Elizabeth.

"Package, actually,” qualified Suzy.

"Baggage more likely,” snorted William, who had been eavesdropping.

"WILLIAM! Please.”

He turned away.

"Girls? Do you like it here?" asked Prudence.

“I was goin' to Blackpool,” sulked Suzy.

William butted in; "Why on earth didn't you go there?" he complained, "Instead of coming here?'

Suzy looked at him glumly.

“’Ere was cheaper,” she explained.

"Hah! Freddie Laker has got a lot to answer for," snapped William at the girls before plaintively asking, “Couldn't you have gone to Spain instead?"

Suzy looked even glummer.

"Naw. All booked up."

Just then Elizabeth spotted Spiros's head poking out of the glass partition of the taverna.

"Look!" she whispered, digging her friend in the ribs, "Its Spiros."

They both stared longingly at the taverna door.

"What?  

  Where?" asked William.

"There -, " they replied, " - behind the glass."

They both pointed to the partition as though some scarce specimen of wild bird had just made a fleeting appearance from its nest in a zoo cage.

Prudence glanced behind her. Out poked brown hair and white teeth.

"Oh yes,” she said.

She cooed and waved her arms.

"WAITER! SERVICE!"

”BOY! GARCON!" added William.

"He won't come out," said Prudence.

"I'm not surprised. What with you waving your arms like that,” complained her husband. The poor boy's probably frightened.”

He turned to the party for their opinion on the matter and saw Suzy take in a huge lungful of air. He further saw the prospect of a drink vanishing forever.

"Hush, everybody," he said and put a finger to his lips.

The whole party waited expectantly.

At William's insistence, they sat absolutely still. They waited for what seemed like hours. In the end, Suzy could contain herself no longer. She put all her fingers in her mouth and blew a loud whistle: "Hey - come 'ere."

"Harridan, “scowled William.

"Gho haway laideez," came a plaintiff voice.

Brown hair and white teeth promptly withdrew.

"That's torn it," snarled William.

He glowered at Suzy.

Spiros heard the commotion outside and had peered lazily out of the kitchen door.

Noticing only tourists, he returned inside, where he had been busy practising. He plucked a few chords on his instrument and studied his new instruction book intent! y. "HOW TO PLAY BOUZOUKI IN TEN EASY LESSONS' . He had mastered two chords already. Soon he would be good enough to play in the taverna.

"Oh, he's gone back inside," said Elizabeth.

There was a look of disappointment on her face. She felt a bit confused. Why had Spiros asked her to accompany him to the café if he. then proceeded to ignore her? She thought of asking her new friend for enlightenment, for Suzy a lady of the world. But Suzy was getting a bit restless. She had spotted a group of youths playing football on the beach.

"Aw, cummon, Lizzie let's go ,” she urged.

She tugged at her friend's arm.

Elizabeth gazed at the beach and then gazed wistfully at the taverna. There was still hope. He might yet come out.

Suzy stripped off her halter-top - ready for action.

William, who had always prided himself on his liberal beliefs, suddenly found himself confronted by a pert pair of breasts; a sudden pain in the chest; a resurgence of a long dormant, Puritan streak and a strange intimation of mortality. Besides that, he blamed Suzy bitterly for the loss of his drink.

"You little minx!" he hollered.

"Huh?”

"Whore! Jezebel! slut! Troll!"

He whitened as he spoke and his last word emerged as little more than a squeak, for Suzy advanced towards him, hands on hips, breasts out front.

"Well, Lizzie," she spat, "Wot do you fink we 'av 'ere?"

Elizabeth tried to back her friend up.

"A professor of English Literature?" she suggested helpfully.

William smirked, "Well, Art, actually."

"We're both dons," explained Prudence, "!'m Eng Lit and William's Art Hist."

Suzy puzzled over this for a moment,

"Hum! Hustler, broad, piece, chippy, punk." She slowly enumerated the words on her tongue and fingers before turning to her friend and shouting: "Cummon, liz. I'll race you to the beach."

They put on their sandals and, as they raced away, Suzy bellowed to William and Prudence over her shoulder: “Look after our things. Ta."

"Of all the cheek."

William moaned and closed his eyes.

Prudence looked enviously at the young, lithe, sprinting bodies.

"Have a good time, dears, " she shouted at their departing backs, "And good hunting."

There were a few seconds of blissful silence. William opened his eyes.

"Have they gone?" he inquired hopefully.

He lay back in his chair and crossed himself before closing his eyes again. It was now quiet and he intoned under his breath with thanksgiving: "May the Lord forgive us our trespasses and those who trespass against us," and then he mouthed a silent "Amen."

As he did so, he heard the lapping of the water and the buzzing of cicidae, and he felt the heat of the sun.

"Ah, Arcadia," he whispered as he and Prudence fell gently asleep.

Spiros soon tired of practising on his instrument and looked out of the kitchen. He saw Polly reading and a couple of tourists snoozing at one of the tables. They seemed very content. He thought about this for a bit. ‘-And you must always attend to the welfare of the clientelle -’ had been the wise counsel of his father. So he ambled obediently over to the customers' table. How could he best attend them?

"Englazy? You horder now, Missie?"

Spiros had put his hands around his mouth and shouted loudly into Prudence's ear. Prudence awoke with a start. A brown face peered down at her. Visions of a man with a fork filled her brain. No - this was a younger version.

"Oh, er, um, William! William! Wake up!" she whispered. She dug her husband in the ribs. "He's come!"

"Ouch! Huh? What?"

William looked round in confusion.

"Oh" he said.

From the tone of his wife's voice, he thought that she had announced the “Second Coming’. I

"Menu?" enquired Spiros politely,

"Nice veal? Souvlaki? I 'av meat balls?"

"Oh yes," said Prudence.

"Moussaka? Beif-cake? Stuffa tomato?" continued the waiter,

"Well?"

Prudence thought about the prospect and then turned to her husband for assistance. There was a bemused, quizzical expression on his face; one that indicated, clearly, that he would be of little help.

"Um, oh, yes," she said.

She frowned as he was handed a menu - one half of which was printed in Greek, the other half seemed to be in English. Lamp-shops? Griffs?

Spiros smiled encouragingly down.

Her heart gave a flutter.

"Oh dear, " she said, blushing and consulting the menu again. "Let me see? Hum."

She thought for a moment before raising her eyes.

"Thighs please." She ordered with a smile before handing back the menu.

"Thighs? Thighs? -- "

Spiros's face went blank.

” ---Ah, comprennez," he said and his face lit up, "Thice-cream?"

"No! No! No!" cried William.

"Eh?"

"Oh, never mind."

He glanced towards his wife with a pained expression and then spoke to the waiter again, “She'll have thice - no no! I mean ice-cream and I'll have a beer."

"Thice-cream. ena beara. Pronto." said Spiros.

He placed the menu on the table and ambled back to the interior of the taverna.

William waited until he was out of ear-shot before hissing to his wife:

"What made you say that?”

"I'm sorry," said Prudence, "It was a slip of the tongue."

"Hah, very Freudian."

"I couldn't help it, really I couldn't,”

She glanced quickly y towards the taverna before whispering: "He's so sexy."

"Sexy?" Her husband's eyebrows shot up. "Sexy? HIM?"

"I can quite see what those girls were on about," continued Prudence, "you're not a woman, William. He's beautiful. Just like the statue of that boy in the museum, you remember - the Greek God?"

"You mean the one with the little - “

"WILLIAM!"

She had spied the approaching waiter just in time.

"Ena beara, for mister, eh?"

Spiros beamed just like his father had taught him and leaned forward.

"Oh? Thank you.” Merci.

William licked his parched lips impatiently while the waiter fiddled with the beer bottle. He seemed to be having some trouble. At last, after a period of agitation and, with a twist of the wrist, Spiros triumphantly shouted: “Hela!"

The cap flew off, spraying William with fizzing liquid.

“You clumsy idiot," he wailed.

Prudence laughed. "Serves you right," she said,

"That’ll cool you down."

"But I'm soaked," he complained.

"Excuso, I av clowth."

Spiros advanced towards William's dripping head with a dirty tea-towel stretched between two hands.

"No!

No!" William begged, “Please? No. Go away.’

William inspected the bottle of beer. 'Fix' proclaimed the label. He carefully poured some of the contents into a glass, sipped, and waited expectantly for the liquid to whizz round his body and smack into his brain, as promised. Instead, the sickly, noxious fluid oozed down to his stomach, where it produced bile which rose in his throat

William snarled.

"you horder now?" replied Spiros. "Meal? Nice feeshe? Octapussy?

"Oh, Prudence? Please - let's"

William beamed delightedly.

“Oh dear, she thought, it was going to be a glorious evening.

"Well," she said defensively, "The octupus was quite nice last night."

“Yes - and india-rubber is tasty too."

"Later perhaps?" Prudence said quickly.

"Eh?"

"Ce soir," she continued.

.She thought for a moment.

"But I think I'll have a bottle of wine?" she added, "What do you think, William?"

"Um - yes, " he replied, looking wistfully at the menu, He beamed at Spiros.

"Eh? Monsieur? Mylady?"

"William! Stop teasing the boy," said Prudence.

"Ah! tease. Anglica. Comprennez."

Spiros's face lit up.

"We 'av old Engleesh Pickwick tease-bag."

"No!" said Prudence sternly.

She pointed to an item on the menu.

"Look. We'll have a carafe of the house wine. Vino."

"Ah, me savvy - plonk. Why you no say?"

Spiros peered at her with a sorrowful expression.

"Un secondo."

He hurried off to the interior of the café and returned quickly with one bottle and a glass. He pulled out the cork which popped - like a champagne cork.

As he tipped the beer out of William's glass and filled it with wine, William gritted his teeth before hissing to his wife: "Prudence, this is suicide. You're only doing this to get at me."

"William, please," she hissed back, "Not in front of the waiter."

"Ah, monsieur, signorita."

Spiros handed over the glass for William to taste - and then stood back.

William held the glass up to the sun for inspection.

"My God! Prudence, its alive." he whispered

She took the glass and sipped the wine.

"Just a bit fresh, that's all," she explained, "Fruity."

"Fresh? Fruity?" he said, "Its fizzing?"

"Nice bouquet, “ said Prudence sniffing the glass.

He took the glass back and sipped.

"Christ! Its still fermenting,”

"WILLIAM!, Please. "

Prudence saw him turn an alarming shade of red.

"We're on holiday, “she pleaded, "Don't let's row?"

"Row? ME?"

"Yes, row. Calm down. Please."

"Si, signor,” added Spiros, "Siga. “

“Cigar? I haven't had my coffee yet?"

"Ah, coffee,” said Spiros brightly, "Cafe expresso. Coffee El Grecko."

"No. No. Please, no," William pleaded

"William. siga,” Prudence explained carefully, "It means take it easy.

Slow down. Its a Greek expression.""

"Oui, laidee, slow down, amigo," admonished Spiros gravely as he patted William on the back.

"Amigo? Cheek!"

William nearly exploded.

Spiros gazed down sweetly.

"Cheek? Me? Monsieur?"

Sorrow hung in his eyes

William took another sip of wine to calm his shattered nerves.

"My God!" he spluttered.

At that moment, Polyhymnia looked up from her book and spoke angrily in G to Spiros in Greek,

William and Prudence heard the word 'Zorba" repeated several times. Spiros turned pale. He disappeared towards the taverna. William sat back in his chair and gazed up at the skies.

“Oh for a beaker full of the warm south,” he intoned,” full of the true and blushfull Hippocrene," he moaned, "With beaded bubbles at the brim and purple stained mou --!"

The words evaporated in the sun.

Spiros stood abjectly before him, bottle in hand.

"Ees nice - white wine from Samos," came from a pair of plaintive, red lips.

The waiter poured some wine into a new glass.

William tasted. It really wasn't too bad.

"Thank you," he said.

Spiros returned slowly and sorrowfully to the kitchen. He had been rather frightened that his father might be told of his behaviour.

"Thank you," said William to the girl, "That was very kind. What is your name?"

“Polyhymnia, " she replied.

"Ah, the poetic muse," he said.

"No, that's my sister, Erato," quipped Polyhymnia, "I'm mime."

“I’m William.

“People call me Polly

"Well, thank you, Polly."

William raised his glass and sipped.

Polyhymnia returned,to her book. She bit her lip. She'd have to be more careful. Poetry? She thought about her family and the latest scandal. It had all been her father's fault. He always got jealous when his women folk took an interest in mortals. It was all right for him? Talk about the pot calling the kettle black!

What a row there had been when Zeus discovered that Erato had arranged a secret assignation with a poet on the island of Ithaca. He'd got into a furious temper and ordered Poseidon to blow up a terrible storm. Poseidon had done his best. The poet's boat had sunk and the poet had drowned. They had watched his funeral pyre from the other shore of the Ionian sea.

What had been the boy's name?

Polyhymnia tried to remember. All the sisters were gifted with an infinite memory - that she knew But It had all been so long ago Especially for her. What had been her real responsibility? Yes - she had been the muse of sacred song. But what of today? “Mime?” she had quipped. And what had Erato done? Poetry she knew - but how?

She sipped the wine.

Now what was that boy's name? Shelley? Yes that was it.

Erato had been so upset about the whole thing that she had shut herself up in her room and cried for the past one hundred years. Then Polyhymnia had been asked by Mnemosyne, their mother, to deputise for Erato until such time as she decided to emerge.

Polyhymnia sighed. It was promotion in a way. Much more responsibility. But she did find it difficult at times - especially of late. She often climbed to the very peak of Mount Parnassus to discuss her problems with Homer. It was very nice in his little wooden hut he usually took one look at what she had inspired, turned completely white, and nodded off to sleep.

Polyhymnia returned to her book with a frown of concentration. She would get the hang of it soon enough.

Prudence shrugged her shoulders.

The girl had seemed to gaze into the distance as though she could see for a thousand miles.

"Perhaps she's tired?" she whispered.

“Hum, " replied her husband.

Prudence left them both to the middle distance, searched through her bag and found a book to read.

William took a further sip of the wine and relaxed. What a nice girl.

"Ah," he sighed, "That I might leave the world unseen, and with thee fade into the forest dim."

He glowed at the sun - which glowered ferociously back - but nevertheless, wondering why his thoughts had taken such a poetic turn, he gently drifted off to sleep accompanied by the buzzing of cicidae and the gentle laving of water.

William dreamed for a long time of a cool, English river shaded by weeping willows; a village church, white clouds and he felt rain. He awoke.

"Prudence, Prudence, its raining, .. he shouted with excitement, "I felt drops."

His joy was short lived as the clouds took tangible form in front of his waking eyes.

"Phew, that was loverly," said Suzy, out of breath, "Pass the towel, Lizzie."

She shook her head, shaking droplets of water over William.

"My God!" he wailed, "Its those Viragos again."

"There's no need for that. Be polite," his wife reproved.

"Oh, I am sorry.’

He spoke apologetically to the two girls.

“Hallo dears. Did you have a nice swim?"

Then he smiled sweetly.

”Smashing, ta," replied Suzy as she dried her hair vigourously.

"Fish not biting today?" he politely inquired.

"WILLIAM! Please."

But then Spiros appeared.

There was a sudden air of excitement in the taverna.

William looked around. While he had been asleep, the taverna had filled up with dehydrated bodies. Whether from the exertions of the sun, or swimming, all bodies were in need of liquid. The waiter was watched with beseeching eyes as he ambled, slowly, around the tables.

"Drinks?" he inquired as he came to the girls' table.

“Oh, Spirls, please.” your place or mine?”

Both girls waited eagerly for a reply, but Spiros suddenly rushed off for he had spotted his father on his bicycle - staring down at the taverna.

Zorba had been making his usual quick inspection of his field by the sea-shore. The previous day he had found much of his crop bleating piteously and in need of watering. He had found his son in the kitchen - smoking a cigarette. Something similar was happening today.

But Zorba suddenly remembered his own youth, and the strapping he had once received from his father, who had caught him watching the girls in the vineyards, instead of tending the goats up in the mountains. He sighed. There was little more he could do about his own son - apart from threaten to stop paying the installments on his bouzouki.

"These youngsters today," he muttered under his breath.

But, at least, Spiros seemed to be mobile.

Spiros had little intention of yesterday's scene with his father be in greeted. He rushed off to serve another table. It was true he was frightened of Zorba but, more important than even that, there were only six months of installments to pay on the bouzouki - and then it would be his.

. Prudence was transfixed by the figure of the retreating waiter.

"The poor lamb," she said to Suzy, "He's rushed off. He probably didn't understand you."

“Didn't understand? Didn't understand?” said William, "That was unmistakable in any language. “Didn't you see what that - that - girl did?"

"Sorry?" replied his wife,

"I wonder where he's going?"

"Can't you keep your eyes off that boy for just one second?"

"Hum?" She spoke absentmindedly, her mind fixed on Spiros's retreating figure, "What did did he - I mean she - do?"

William put his left hand in the crook of his hand into a fist and raised his forearm sharply. "This!" he grunted in his best machismo style.

"SO?”

“My God, woman. Where were you born?"

”Oh, please. Let's not row."

Prudence's mind and attention were now taken by a strikingly handsome man striding down the beach.

"Oh, look, Suzy," she whispered, "Just like Omar Shariff."

"That's Niki," explained Elizabeth, "He owns one of the boats in the harbour. “

Polyphmnia hid behind the pages of her book. Niki was her uncle and she should be on the town promenade, selling her wares. Perhaps he was looking for her?

The handsome man continued down the beach.

"Ey - you! Over 'ere! NIKI!" shouted suzy.

She put all of her fingers into her mouth and blew another piercing wolf-whistle.

Polyhymnia cringed. So did William, for different reason. They exchanged sympathetic glances.

"How did you do that, Suzy?" inquired Prudence, putting all her fingers in her mouth and blowing and blowing to no effect.

They all watched Niki stride manfully away and Polyhymnia returned, with relief, to her book.

"What do you call those?" Suzy asked her friend, "What 'e was wearing?"

"Briefs?" hazarded Elizabeth.

"I think that about covers it, my dear," added William politely.

"'WILLIAM'."

Niki disappeared into town.

"Aw, he's gone," said Suzy.

The girl s looked glum.

“Not having much success, are we, ladies?" said William waspishly.

They looked even glummer.

"Honestly, Prudence," he continued, “Did we do our courting like that?"

Prudence made no reply.

William leaned confidentially over to the girl's table.

”In our day, Suzy, " he explained patiently, "The girls let the boys chase them."

"Huh?"

Just then Spiros appeared, having just remembered Prudence's order for ice-cream.

"Thighs for madame?" he beamed.

"Thighs? Thighs-cream?Oh yes, please, " said Suzy.

She sucked a finger suggestively.

“SUZY!! please'" William begged, “Please me something. This is Greece. The land of Aphrodite of Helen of Troy. Why not try a little finesse? The siren's call?”

He waved his hands like a conductor.

"Adagio Molto'" he suggested.

"What's 'e on abart?" queried Suzy.

"Search me?"

Elizabeth shrugged her shoulders.

William wailed and beat his head with his hands. Then he intoned passionately:

"Oh, the isles of Greece, the isles of Greece,

Where burning Sappho loved and sung.

Where grew the arts of war and peace,

Where Delos rose and Phobus sprang."

Suzy stared at her friend.

"I don't get it?" she said.

"What does he mean, Prudence?” asked Elizabeth.

Prudence explained that Byron was a Greek patriot who fought for Greek independence during the Turkish occupation - and that her husband was reciting from one of his poems.

"Byron was a poet, " she said to the girls.

"Still don't get it, II said Suzy.

"But I must admit," Prudence said to her husband, "I don't quite see the relevance."

"WRETCHES! BARBARIANS'.

"I don't think he likes us much?" said Elizabeth.

Ah, but no - you're quite beautiful," said William.

The three girls had suddenly reminded him of a frieze he had once seen in a museum - though he could not quite place it.

"Honest?" said Suzy.

"Yes - honest, Suzy," he gently replied, "What men or Gods are these? What maidens loth? What struggle to escape? What pipes, what timbrels? What wild ecstasy."

Polyhymnia pricked up her ears.

"Professor?”said Suzy.

"Yes, my dear?.

"You're cuckoo."

"Its from the Ode to a Grecian Urn', explained Prudence.

Oh yes! Polyhmnia returned to her book. Of course, that sweet boy. What was his name? Keat? Erato had been quite proud of him.

"Such a shy young man. she had said.

“The urn depicts a scene from classical antiquity,” Prudence continued, “A bachanal."

“Um?”said the girls.

"A party? young lovers chasing each other. William was paying you a compliment. Weren't you, William?"

Her eyes pleaded with her husband.

”Well, that's all right then, " said Suzy,

The girls now prepared for the next hour's entertainment. They stretched out languorously and Suzy put her legs across the table-top. William coughed as he removed his drink. Elizabeth deftly arranged Suzy's sun-glasses and brushed her hair. Then she donned a pretty bonnet and faced the beach.

They were ready!

Prudence smiled with satisfaction as she viewed the girls' artwork.

"Just like a commercial. What do you think, William?"

"Enchanting," he replied, Oh, Suzy?""

"Yeah?"

"Stick your bum out a bit?"

“Eh?”

"Perfect!" he exclaimed, "now I'm irresistibly reminded of a MacGill postcard."

"Wot?"

"Oh, never mind,’ sighed William, 'Now, please, can I have some quiet?”

There followed a full minute of silence. As the water lapped against the shore and the sun beat down, William gazed at the brooding mountains and then out to the far horizon. He recited reverently:

“The mountains look on Marathon and Marathon looks on the sea/

And musing there an hour alone,

I dreamed that Greece might still be free”

The silence continued for a few seconds - while the party bowed their heads in thought.

"Huh?”

"Oh, quiet, Suzy.”

Simon and Douglas lay on Aphrodite Beach - not far from the Adonis taverna.

“So this is where the action is?” said Douglas.

He whistled with admiration.

"It certainly is,” replied Simon.

The beach was hidden from the road by a curtain of reeds and they lay under the shade of a beached boat. Before them, spread haphazardly, singly and in groups, lay girls - on mats and towels across the sand. In the distance, out of the crests of white foam in the blue sea, rose figures.

Topless was derigeuer.

Youths played football, or strolled nonchalantly up and down the beach in marauding packs, stopping here and there to inspect some particular appealing view, or to discuss points of particular interest.

Sea and horizon blended in a blue haze. The sun was at its fullest frenzy. Perfume, compounded of sweetbread and sun-tan lotion, wafted pleasantly across the beach which shimmered in hot, steamy, sexual languor. Barely visible in the heat haze, the mountains fried. Cicidae screamed in their heat agony - adding a pulsating tension to the air.

Simon lay on the sand, and felt the sea breathe in and out.

Zeus, at the behest of Aphrodite, had switched on a million billion, kilowatt arc lamp. A blinding light illuminated the beach - it’s mountain backdrop - and the first acts of what scenes? traumas? joys? hopes and disappointments to follow that night?

Simon and Douglas swam and sunbathed for a few hours; then slept until Douglas spotted his girlfriend, and a companion, laughing and racing across he beach - in the direction of the taverna.

"Simon, wake up."

"Um?"

"There's my girlfriend."

The youths decided to head towards the taverna for refreshment and whatever else might turn up. Simon stopped still when he saw the three girls sitting at a table. He saw Mrs Robinson's daughter; the girl with the halter-top - the one whose back had arched so gracefully against the blue sky that morning and he saw the girl from the promenade. He quailed and prepared to bolt but, held by the steadying arm of Douglas, they approached the table.

"Hallo," said Douglas.

"Lizzie," hissed Suzy.

She poked her friend in the ribs.

"Lizzie, wake up.”

William woke and groaned.

"Mind if we sit down?"" said Douglas.

Suzy removed her sun-glasses. Two pale-faces were before her.

"Aw, you're English,” she complained.. "Naw, we're busy. Piss off. "

“My God, Prudence, did we get on the right plane?" William spoke to his wife, "Remind me to book -for Butlins next year.”

”Well, I'm not -fussy," mumbled Elizabeth.

Then she opened her eyes and saw her boyfriend.

"Douglas? What are you doing here?"

Douglas, who was a medical student, should have been at home, studying-for his finals.

“Oh, I took a few weeks break," he explained,

He was unwilling, as yet, to admit that he had travelled to Greece in the hope of meeting up with her.

Elizabeth sniffed and her nose swivelled away.

"Come on," said Douglas and tugged at Simon's arm. "Let's sit down."

They chose a table adjacent to that of the girls' and cautiously sat down.

"Enjoying yourself?" inquired Douglas of Suzy.

She was the only girl paying him any attention.

Receiving no reply, he added, "Been here long?"

Suzy pouted appealingly.

"Go away, skunk. I don't pop my cork for any guy in town," she said.

"But I didn't ask you too," replied Douglas,

"Ah!" said William, beaming at the two Englishmen, "A touch of class." He leaned over to Douglas and whispered loudly in his ear:"She's from the gutter, friend."

Suzy ignored William and spoke to Douglas:

"Your nose? Its disintegrating?"

"That's sunburn, silly," he explained.

"What's your friend's name?" inquired Prudence, who had noticed that his companion seemed to be in a state of extreme agitation.

Simon stared down at the table-top. He was acutely aware of a nose which had swivelled in his direction - in preparation, no doubt, for a sniff.

"S.s.s.s," he stammered.

"Stephen?" queried Suzy icily.

Simon, who was seated a few feet away from Polly and was pitifully aware of her raised eyes.

"S.s.s.s," he stammered again.

"Sammy?" hazarded Elizabeth.

"Sophocles?" suggested William

Oh dear, thought Simon. He recognised the portly Englishman from the beach-bar.

Finally, Douglas ended Simon's misery.

"This is Simon," he said, looking curiously at his friend.

"That's all we need, sneered Suzy, “A S.S.S.lSSY. “

Simon surreptitiously glanced at Polly. Thank God she had returned to her book. She seemed totally engrossed. What was the book's title? 'The Collected Works of Ted Hughes'? It seemed an odd choice for holiday reading.

Just then, Spiros returned on his circular route around the tables.

“Amigos? Compadres? You vant menu? Drinkos? “

"Wise guy, huh?" asked Douglas.

William nodded sympathetically.

"O yes," continued the waiter, "Ees funny. Ow much a Greek urn. Very goot. Funny boys. Hah. Hah. Ess stereotype - Eh?

"Christ, he's a nutter," whispered Douglas.

But Spiros had seen Suzy, spoken too before, and thus ignored them both. He glanced up at the road Good! His father was not in sight. "Practice makes perfect, " had been his father's wise counsel, so he obediently sat down at the girls' table and flashed his white teeth. Simon watched on for he had not seen the Greek in action at such close quarters before. Perhaps he could still learn a few tricks?

The girls were obviously dumbstruck. He noticed that Elizabeth's nose had swivelled in the waiter's direction and seemed permanently stuck. But Suzy had turned to stone. A red glow suffused her cheeks.

Spiros gazed at her and smouldered.

"Ow here you from?" he asked haltingly.

"England," she replied.

She pouted at the waiter encouragingly.

"Ah, Anglica-- "

Spiros beamed,

" --- Ow you are like zee angleesh rhose."

Then he leaned back on his chair. It always did the trick.

Polyhymnia glanced up and then returned to her book for she had heard it all before.

Spiros pursed his lips and concentrated hard:

"Hawhat you do? Missie?"

"Switchboard operator," said Suzy in hushed tones.

"Eh?"

Conversation languished while Spiros thought about his next piece of repartee.

Simon, who did not like to see his fellow mortals in pain, leaned over.

"Pss, pfff, beep, brrr, II beep,” he offered helpfully and made a motion of picking up a telephone and putting plugs into holes.

Suzy laughed.

Spiros glowered at the Englishman who was poaching on his territory.

"Ow what you want Englazy?" he asked.

Simon noted the Greek's muscles and the menace in his black eyes. He looked cooly for the position of the chair legs (A carafe of olive-oil was close, and so were some beer bottles) before he spoke again.

"What part of England are you from, Suzy?" he inquired.

The waiter half rose from the table and Suzy gazed at Simon in awe. The cicidae suddenly stopped their chirruping as the Englishman and the Greek glowered at each other. Thankfully, at that moment, William butted in.

Simon remembered that his paunch had quailed the hotel manager at the beach-bar. His paunch now seemed to have the same effect on the waiter.

William spoke to Spiros, "Ah, there you are, my boy. Fill high the bowl with Samian wine.”

He raised high his empty glass.

Polyhymnia listened once more, She would certainly have to do a lot more homework. Wasn't that Byron? She smiled at the English youths. Nice, she thought, but hardly inspiring.

All thoughts of Spiros fled from Simon's mind as he stared into a pair of deep, blue eyes.

The top half of Polly's bathing costume - made of some blue, translucent material dung to her breasts and defied gravity. Only her nipples seemed to give tacit support. Delicate, brown skin gave off a sweet perfume and there were a delicious pair of red lips. Altogether it was a most attractive colour scheme.

She returned to her book and Simon's heart nearly returned to its normal beat. He inspected the taverna while he recovered. The taverna suddenly seemed beautiful. Nectarines twined across the southern wall. This wall acted as a windbreak and support for a trellis of vines above their heads. Along its base, hibiscus and geraniums grew in pots and red blooms gave off a powerful scent. In a corner, by the wall, a fountain played gent y over a statue of a girl bathing. Was it Aphrodite? Nearby was a statue of a Greek god. Was this statue Hermes by Praxiteles? Simon inspected the waiter, who was approaching with a tray of bottles, and then he inspected the statue. He then looked at the knives on the table. If he hacked off Spiros's right arm, just above the elbow, and left the stump, the waiter and the statue would look resemble each other.

"Vino?"

Spiros had something of his father's good nature and was not one to bear a grudge.

"Ena - duo beara?"

He grinned at Simon who was forced to smile back. He had to admit that the waiter's smile was infectious. The moment of hostility thus passed and the party relaxed.

“Suzy, would you like another drink? said Simon.

“Let me,” offered William.

Such opportunities were rare.

“Oh ta," they said.

"Prudence? Pass that bottle! Ladies? Glasses, please?"

William filled the girls' glasses to the brim and watched their little Adam's apples bob up and down like shuttlecocks.

"Another?" he queried, "Something to wash it down?"

"Ta!"

He poured out two more glasses which were as quickly demolished. He wait ed patiently for a few seconds - until the wine had had time to establish itself in the girls' stomachs.

"Are you feeling all right?" he then inquired with paternal concern, "Not feeling a bit liverish?"

"No," said Elizabeth, "1 feel fine. How about you, Suzy?"

She glanced at her friend.

"Naw, fine."

William scowled.

"Damn! They've got it wrong on the label," he complained, "It says this stuff is guaranteed to kill 99% of all known germs dead."

He slammed the bottle down on the table.

"WILLIAM!"

"I thought it was fruit juice," said Elizabeth. visibly going pale.

"Vim ordinaire,” William informed her with a grin.

"Doesn't matter," said Suzy, "We'll drink anyfing."

"Anything?" inquired William.

"Anyfing."

"WAITER! WAITER!" William shouted with excitement.

"Mister? You horder now?"

William threw out his arms as though pretending he had landed a huge fish.

"A bottle of retzina. A large one."

"Hey!" reproved Prudence, "that's going too far."

They glowered at each other.

"You harder now?" repeated Spiros.

With two fingers., William picked up the menu and inspected it glumly.

"Well, I don't know'? -- "

He thought about the prospect and consulted his wife.

" --- Prudence, what do you think? Do you want to live another day?"

"WILLIAM! Please."

She gazed out to sea. The sun hung over the horizon and she thought that it must be nearly supper time.

"Let's eat here?" she suggested, "Its nearly dark and we'll only be going back to the hotel."

"Oh, very well," snarled her husband.

He attempted to decipher the menu while Spiros hung obediently over his shoulder; lips pursed, notebook in hand and pencil poised.

Prudence spoke to Elizabeth and Suzy.

“Are you joining us, girls?”

"Ta, thanks.”

William shuddered. He turned to Simon and Douglas for masculine support.

“Are you joining us too?”

“Thanks,” they replied.

Douglas inspected the menu.

“I think I’ll stick to the veal,” he said.

William smirked as he ordered, “You might well do that, my boy. And you Simon? Breast of chicken?"

Simon, whose eyes had been distracted elsewhere, and stared, mortified, at the table-top.

"Suzy?" enquired William, "Stuffa tomato, I presume?"

“Ta”

"Prudence? What do you want?” said William.

She looked at the waiter while she indicated her husband.

"HE'LL have fish - and HE'LL enjoy it. And I'll have -- “

She smiled seductively.

” -- The leg of lamb."

"Did you have to say it like that?" whined William.

"Well, he is such a dish."

"HIM?"

"Oh hush!"

“Now, that will be one shark; one shark and three waiters - lightly grilled. Thank you.”

Spiros scratched his head with his pencil.

“What you whant?”

“William! Stop teasing the boy,” said Prudence

While they were distracted by the ordering of the meal, Simon noticed that Polly was still engrossed in her book. he kicked William’s leg.

“William, William,” he whispered, “Polly?”

William turned.

"Oh, Polly. I am sorry. Would you care to join us?"

"Yes please," entreated Simon and Douglas.

Polyhymnia smiled.

"Thank you," she said and put down her book.

"And would you care to order for us too?" pleaded William.

Polyhymnia spoke to Spiros rapidly in Greek and he scribbled furiously into his notebook.

"Let's have a party?" suggested Elizabeth.

"Yippee," shouted Suzy, "A bacchanal."

While the girls retreated to change, Simon and Douglas put two of the tables together. The girls soon returned dressed fetchingly in various makeshift slips and shirts .

All sat down.

Simon found himself seated opposite Elizabeth and next to Polly, who sat at the head of the table. William sat at the other end, next to Douglas and Prudence. There was one place short, so Suzy squeezed into a corner - in between Simon and Polly.

Spiros began bringing out dishes. There was lobster for William and Prudence and meat on skewers with herbs for Simon and Douglas. The girls had lightly grilled fish. All helped themselves from various side dishes and there was a special large plate of chips for Suzy.

The sun went down. The stars came out and the sound of the cicidae and the lapping of water was joined by laughter and the scraping of knives and forks.

Somebody belched.

"Suzy?”

“Yeah?"

"You've ruined the sunset.”

After a few hours, contented sighs were added to the sound of the night.

"Well, that was loverly," said Prudence, "WASN'T IT, William?"

She wiped her mouth with a napkin.

Before he could reply, a record player boomed out. There was a commotion by the kitchen door.

"My God! Its Zorba the Greek'" squeaked William.

"Houpla! HoupIa!"

Zorba sang and danced his way across the taverna. He had learned the steps from the crew who had come to film the story of his father's life - and he had added a few improvisations of his own. As he moved across the floor, tables and chairs were moved out of the way and bottles crashed to the ground.

"Careful, Prudence," warned William, "He's coming this way. Mind your face!"

Zorba halted at their table.

William beckoned the waiter.

"May I have some more sauce?" he inquired.

"Sauce?"

Spiros pursed his lips.

"You must give the recipe to my wife," continued William.

"Eh? -- "

Spiros looked to his father in consternation.

" -- Comment?"

"William, please," interrupted Prudence.

But Zorba smiled. His wife had prepared most of the dishes that morning, including the sauce.

"Thank you," he said and bowed courteously.

"You likee vino ?" enquired Spiros, "Retzina? Big bottle?"

He father was hovering close behind and he was on his best behaviour. He knew full well that Zorba had old fashioned notions of hospitality and viewed all strangers as guests -and that this hospitality applied equally well to the customers who visited his taverna.

'"No. Yes - why not?"

William smirked weirdly.

“Let's make an evening of it -- "

Prudence quailed. She recognised the expression on her husband's face. Indigestion seemed to be the problem.

" -- Stomach, kidneys and Iiver all in one fell swoop," he continued.

"Brandy?" enquired Spiros, '"Metaxa? Three stars very goot."

William patted his paunch contentedly.

"Why not, Prudence," he beamed, "Let's get the head too."

He inspected the waiter.

"And while you're there, let's have some of that oozo. My teeth could do with a good clean."

Zorba could sense a storm brewing and, as most of his clientelIe had finished eating, and his wife had emerged from the kitchen, he suggested dancing.

"We 'av party, non?" he said.

"Yippee," shouted Suzy.

"No - no - I couldn't," said Prudence.

But she was hauled off her chair and waltzed around the room by Zorba.

Oh my," she exclaimed when she sat down, exhausted.

"Come on. Lizzie,” said Suzy

They jumped up from the table and bopped merrily away in a corner.

William sighed. "Come on, Douglas and Simon," he said.

Zorba had left a bottle of brandy on the table. William filled their glasses to the brim. While Polly slipped onto the dance floor with Spiros, Simon surreptitiously sipped her drink. She had hardly touched anything else. It tasted sweet. A mixture of milk and honey, he thought.

Soon it was well past midnight and the party was in full swing. Tables had been cleared from the centre of the floor and, more often than not, they all danced the 'Syrtos'. It was rather like 'Knees Up Mother Brown' thought Prudence, as they all linked hands and circled the taverna.

Simon watched the dancing from his table. He was in heaven for he had danced with Polly or thought he had. It had been like clasping air. He had tried to talk with her as they danced.

"What do you do? I mean when you're not working at the travel agency?"

It had been difficult t to hear her reply above the hubbub of the dancing.

"Oh,”she had replied vaguely, "Something in publishing."

He had tried to press her further as they circled the room. She had confessed that she was some sort of literary agent.

"Sometimes I type manuscripts," she had added as a vague after thought.

Simon had found out that she would be returning to England that winter.

"Where?" he had asked, trying not to sound too interested.

"Oh, up north," she had replied, "To see somebody at a university. Professional business."

Hull? Was that where she said?

"Will you be staying long? At a hotel? Which one? Are you coming up to London? When?”

She had prevaricated so Simon had decided to chance his luck no further.

"Maybe?" she had said.

It was wild. Perhaps he might see her again? Now he watched Polly dance with Douglas. She was like an unseen power for all were touched by her - they all reflected in her- beauty. She was a gift. How could he possibly possess her?

"Wanna dance?"

"What? 0h, Suzy.”

"Aw, cummon."

She dragged Simon away from the table and his thoughts.

At one point during the proceedings, Spiros picked up a table with his teeth. The girls sat on the edge of their chairs and shouted " Bravo. Simon exchanged glances with William and they both silently crossed their fingers. But most of the time, Spiros and his father circled the dance floor under the stars, making sure that the party was well lubricated and that everybody was 'aving a good time."

"Vino? More vino?" cried Spiros.

Now it was well past midnight. Somebody sang a song called 'The Land of Make Believe'.

Douglas approached Suzy.

"Would you like to dance?"

"Naw. "

"Please? Why not?"

"Well?

“Just once. But I ain't promisin' anyfing.'

"Good."

Elizabeth danced with Spiros.

"Missie?"

"Yes?"

"Ow you like zee Angleesh rhose."

"Oh, Spiros, " she whispered with her arms around his neck and her feet off the floor.

Then Suzy danced with ' Spiros.

"Oh, missie, you are zee Angleesh rose."

"Cor, do you mean 'that? I bet you say it to all the girls.”

Soon the girls were powdering their noses in the ladies room.

"Oh, Suzy," gasped Elizabeth, "He told me that I looked like an English rose."

She peered closely into the mirror.

'"Humph~ He did, did he?" replied Suzy.

She huffed and put her hands on her hips.

Later, she danced with Douglas.

"Oh, Douglas, you dance most divinely."

Douglas disentangled himself from Suzy and swapped her for Elizabeth, who was dancing with Simon.

"Please, Suzy," pleaded Simon, a few moments later, "You're choking me."

"Where are you going tomorrow?" she whispered in his ear.

"What? Oh?"

Simon peered over his shoulder. Where was Polly?

"I think I might go along the coast road early to the east - to Gournia, " he replied absentmindedly, "And then on to Phaestos in the afternoon. Please, Suzy, my ribs."

“Humph, You interested in those old stones?"

"Well, a bit." he replied.

He deposited her in a chair next to William, made an excuse and wandered off, hoping to bump into Polly .

"AW, cummon, professor," said Suzy

"No - no -really - I couldn't... “

But, all the same, William danced with Suzy. And she could waltz. As he felt her arms around his neck, he almost cried. It had been a long time since he had felt so young.

The party gradually wound down but not before William found himself dancing the 'Syrtos' with his arm around the waiter.

Spiros stared into William's eyes and saw tears. But was he laughing or crying?

"Why you cry?"

“I was thinking."

”About?"

"'Nothing, Spiros.""

"Hey?"'

'"An Isle under Ionian skies, beautiful as a wreck of Paradise."

"Eh?"

William laughed.

"It's Shelley." he said, "What a carry-on"

"No 'av Shelley, 'av Martini?"

"No Spiros, my dear boy."

The party finally broke up at about two o'clock for Polly had disappeared and, with her, went the magic.

Simon poked his head into the kitchen. There was Spiros with sweat pouring down his face - washing dishes with a mop.

"Goodbye, old chap," he said cheerfully, slapping the waiter on the back.

Spiros glowered and muttered a few choice phrases.

Simon then escorted Suzy back to the Youth Hostel where she had parked her sleeping bag. He kissed her goodnight.

Outside the taverna, Prudence whistled happily. Despite her gaffe, her husband had not been so content for a long time.

William hired a taxi and took Prudence, and Elizabeth, back to the hotel. As they drove along the beach road, they saw the same scene in which they they had just participated, being re-enacted in all the tavernas along the shore-front.

Simon returned to his apartments in the Hotel Sophocles where he prepared for bed.

It had been a wonderful day. Now he didn't mind the couple next door; or the drip from the tap, or the plasterwork falling from the ceiling or the creaking bed.

"Sammy! Sammy!" he cajoled, at peace with all the creatures of the universe.

Sammy poked his head out of the wainscot and wagged his friendly antennae.

"Sammy, oh Sammy, come here," he cooed with an encouraging smile.

The obliging cockroach came closer.

WHAM!

"Gottya!"

Simon crept into bed and fell asleep. It had, indeed, been a wonderful day and he had danced with Polly.

His happiness was complete.