‘I know you and dad wanted something else for me but- Yeah, a rich, pot-bellied prince. You think mine is a frog, eh? He loves me to bits, mum; he really cares, that’s what matters.’ Sonia punches the pen’s tip fast against the notepad on the coffee table, peppering the white sheet with inky dots. ‘We’ll find something to eat. He’ll get a job. God is merciful- No idea why He’s not to the Syrians, mum, but we’re in Greece, things are much better.’ She runs her tongue along her lower lip. ‘We’ll survive- What if he hasn’t got a University degree? I can’t find a job either. He’s a trained plumber, anyway. They’re the ones that earn money these days, not- We do communicate, he’s not from Mars, mum. He’s a cultivated man, knows stuff- No, mum. He doesn’t know anything about unsuited couples because they don’t exist. If they choose to be together, they match, if not, they break up. That simple.’ She doodles now, dark, straight lines crossing the page frames. ‘I’ve heard about the high divorce rate, mum.’ She rolls her eyes. ‘I don’t care. If people were haunted by the possibility of breaking up one day, they would never take the plunge.’ She drops the pen onto the table, shuts the notebook and thumps it with her fist. ‘I will, yes, I will. And you’d better get used to the idea because my little amphibian and I are going to leap to your house this Saturday night and he’s going to flip his clever tongue out and dine on all the pesky insects, earthworms and spiders lurking in your house, mum. Clean it all up.’ She hangs up.