The next day Patrick and Ursula went to Knossos, calling at the museum in Heraklion on the way. They started early ahead of the coach, and had one of the few perfect days of a lifetime, reaching the museum before the main crowds so that they had time to enjoy the vivid frescoes. They stayed there till it closed at one o’clock and both said they would return if they had the chance another time.
‘Lunch now. I’m very hungry,’ said Ursula, and taught Patrick how to say it in Greek.
They sought about for a good spot and eventually found a tavema in a street leading down to the harbour. There was a shady garden with tables arranged under a vine.
They chose tarasamalata followed by dolmades.
‘A very Greek meal, so it should be good. Sometimes Greek food is disappointing,’ Ursula remarked.
‘I’ve discovered that,’ said Patrick.
‘Never mind. Love the Greeks and love their food, even when it’s tough and tepid,’ said Ursula. ‘I am enjoying myself.’
They finished their meal with fruit and coffee, then, before going back to the car, they walked along the road past the harbour. Two cruise liners were in, their upperworks gleaming white against the skyline. The shops were closed now and would not re-open until four o’clock, or even later. The whole town rested in the heat. Patrick saw a female figure in a pair of brief, frayed cotton shorts walking along the road in front of them.
‘There’s Jill. The Canadian girl from the Psyche,’ he said.
‘Is it? Are you sure?’
Patrick would have recognised her shape anywhere.
‘Yes. I’m sure.’
The girl took a turning to the right and walked off towards the centre of the town. She had a long, loping stride that was very graceful.
‘The boat wasn’t in the harbour when we left this morning. We saw them put out last night, if you remember.’
‘Do you think they came here all the way by sea?’ asked Ursula.
‘Why not? I suppose it’s the obvious way, when you think about it,’ Patrick said.