DAISY
‘He’s so annoying,’ Fi said, slamming down her car keys on the top of the reception desk.
‘Who is?’ Daisy couldn’t help being amused by Fi’s drama-queen tendencies. There was never a dull moment when she was around, and Daisy wished she’d had a younger sister like Fi when she was growing up.
‘My brother,’ she said through clenched teeth. ‘He can be such a pig.’
Daisy didn’t know Sebastian Fielding, but she’d seen a picture of him in the local paper a few times. She’d heard enough about him from others and doubted very much that he treated Fi badly; in fact, she’d heard he doted on her.
‘How come?’ Daisy asked, trying to pacify her before any of the guests wondered why their receptionist was flouncing around the marble entrance hall. ‘Didn’t he buy you that shiny red Fiat 500?’
‘Yes,’ Fi said, glowering at Daisy. ‘That’s not what I’m referring to though, is it?’
The phone rang and Daisy held up one finger to indicate Fi should wait while she took the call. ‘Gabe, hi,’ she said, unable to help smiling at the sound of his voice. Forcing away the image of him in faded denims, she listened while he explained that he was going to be slightly late to collect his parents.
‘I’m giving them a lift to the airport,’ he said. ‘Please let them know I haven’t forgotten them.’
‘Of course,’ she said. ‘I’ll tell them straight away.’ She put down the receiver.
Fi opened her mouth to continue her rant just as Francesca flounced out of the door linking the staff area of the hotel to the front lobby. She tapped her watch dramatically, before turning to open the door she’d just slammed shut behind her.
‘Rick, come along, darling, we’re going to miss this blasted flight if we’re not careful.’ She flicked her long reddish hair from her shoulder and added. ‘Why you always leave everything until the last minute I’ll never know.’
Daisy could hear him cursing and banging what she assumed to be their cases against the hall walls. ‘Bloody hell, Francesca, what crap have you filled your suitcases with this time? You’re going to be working on location. You do remember that they have costume and makeup departments there?’
Francesca squeezed her tiny form as far back against the doorframe as she could to let him through while she held open the door.
‘And,’ he said as he half dragged her suitcase through the hallway, ‘I only left things until the last damn minute because I was doing my best to placate you, if you recall.’
‘Miss Fiore, Mr Malone,’ Jose, the flustered head porter, called, frantically waving over two of his young assistants. ‘Please, we will take these to the car for you.’
‘Where is Gabriel?’ Francesca asked Daisy as she neared the reception area. ‘He was supposed to be here half an hour ago.’
Daisy couldn’t help noticing that Francesca had forgotten to draw in one of her eyebrows, giving her a lopsided look which made it difficult for Daisy to concentrate. She didn’t point out that if he had been on time then he would have had to wait half an hour for them both to be ready, but simply said, ‘He’s just phoned. He should behere any time now.’
Rick left the cases he’d been struggling with for the porters to handle and stomped outside. Daisy spotted him lighting a cigarette as soon as he was far enough away from the building not to infuriate his wife.
‘You’ll ruin your beautiful singing voice if you carry on doing that,’ Francesca said, spotting him as she stepped outside to peer down the long driveway for Gabriel.
‘Why don’t they just refer to themselves as Mr and Mrs Wilson?’ Fi asked. ‘Those are their real names, after all.’
Daisy shrugged. ‘I suppose it’s because Francesca is an actress and is still referred to in her work and the press as Francesca Fiore, and Rick is known as Rich Malone, his stage name.’
‘Weird,’ mumbled Fi, sitting down in her chair next to Daisy. She bent down behind the raised desk so Francesca couldn’t see her and took her pink lip gloss from her bag and reapplied it to her lips. ‘I find life confusing enough with one name, never mind having to listen out for people calling you by several names. I don’t know how Gabriel copes with their lifestyle, do you?’
Daisy sat up straighter as she recognised the deep purr of Gabe’s car. ‘I’m sure he’s quite used to it,’ she said. ‘After all, his grandmother was famous too, wasn’t she?’
Fi knitted her eyebrows together in confusion. ‘What, Mrs Grey you mean?’
Daisy smiled at Fi’s surprise. ‘Yes, she was the Jersey Bombshell, didn’t you know?’
‘The what?’ Fi giggled.
Daisy was indignant on Lydia’s behalf that Fi found this revelation amusing. ‘Mrs Grey was famous in the fifties.’ She recalled pictures of a young Lydia dressed in a red-and-white polka dot dress with a tiny cinched-inwaist. ‘She was very glamorous and incredibly beautiful. She was always photographed looking immaculate, not like actresses these days,’ she said, aware she was sounding just like her mother. ‘I particularly liked one of the pictures of her with a leopard-print silk scarf over her hair and wrapped round her neck. All you could see of her face were these huge dark glasses and perfectly made-up red lips.’ Daisy sighed. ‘I still can’t quite believe I’ve met her.’
When Fi didn’t answer, Daisy turned to her. ‘What’s the matter?’
‘You’re so old for your age sometimes, do you know that?’
