We drive along the esplanade winding along the cliff to a bar overlooking the sea. It’s a glorious day. We stand on the balcony and look down to a spot where a ship was wrecked — ‘The Star Of Greece’ — a long time ago. The restaurant on whose balcony we are standing is named after it. Seventeen passengers drowned. At low tide you can see remnants of it. We look out to the edge of the sea. If you stand here and look, she says, as the sun dips below the horizon you can sometimes see a blue flash. Then an eerie glow. I don’t know what it is. A ghost perhaps of one of the drowned.
Just then a cold breeze blew in from the south.