Daisy suspected Lydia was referring to her own experiences. She couldn’t help wondering what Lydia’s story must be.
Lydia smiled. ‘Daisy,’ she said, when Gabriel had collected their plates and left them alone at the table. ‘I can see by the way you’re studying me that you’ve got questions you’d like to ask.’
Daisy opened her mouth to disagree, then realising Lydia had seen straight through her, smiled. ‘I do. My mum was a huge fan of yours.’
Lydia tapped the side of her nose with one of her bejewelled fingers. ‘I do have my own story to tell and maybe one day I’ll let you in on everything.’
‘I thought you might,’ Daisy said, desperate to get to know this fascinating lady even a little bit. She couldn’t help being sad that her mum hadn’t lived long enough to know her daughter had met this famous actress. She thought back to the iconic images of Marilyn Monroe that she’d been fascinated by growing up, and then to the more regal version that Lydia Grey had been. ‘Was it fun being the Jersey Bombshell?’ she asked, unable to resist one question.
Lydia relaxed back into her chair and smiled. ‘It was the best fun a young woman could hope for. Sometimes it seems like only last year.’
‘My mum said that growing up she wished she could look like you.’ Lydia smiled.
They turned when they heard Gabriel’s footsteps crossing the terrace. ‘I’m hoping this pavlova was meant for us,’ he said, placing the largest meringue pudding Daisy had ever seen down the table.
‘Well, I didn’t intend keeping it all for myself.’ Lydia laughed as she served up the messy but delicious treat. ‘Gabe loves pavlova,’ she said, smiling at him as she handed Daisy a bowl. ‘I hope you do too.’
‘Love it,’ Daisy said with relish, not sure why they were being served with a second pudding. ‘My mum used to make me a meringue covered with chocolate and cream for my birthdays instead of a cake.’
Lydia seemed to like this idea. ‘Then I’m delighted I made it for us. I couldn’t choose between this or a cheesecake, so I thought we could have a little of both.’
They chatted a bit more, mostly about incidents at the hotel and the garden Lydia had spent the past twenty years designing. Then, when they’d finished eating, Lydia suggested she show Daisy around it. ‘It’s especially beautifully at this time of year.’
Lydia stood up and Daisy and Gabriel stepped down from the terrace after her onto her lawn. They walked slowly in the direction of the beach.
‘Where exactly are we?’ Daisy asked, aware that although she knew they’d driven east, she wasn’t entirely sure where this place was.
‘Near La Motte – Green Island, that is,’ Lydia said. ‘I used to come here as a child and spend hours by the sea looking out at that tiny island.’
Daisy followed Lydia’s direction to see something that wasn’t much bigger than a grassy knoll sticking out of thesea metres from the shore. ‘It’s very close. I suppose you can walk there when the tide is out?’
‘Oh yes,’ Lydia said. ‘But you have to be careful not to get caught by the rip tide when the tide comes in. It’s much faster than people assume and occasionally visitors get marooned and need to be rescued.’
‘I hope you have a good rescue team over here with all these beaches,’ Daisy asked.
‘We do.’ Lydia slipped off her shoes when they reached the steps down to the beach. ‘You can leave your shoes here, if you like.’
‘Luke, the guy who’s been working on the orangery at the hotel, he’s in the RNLI. There are two lifeboat crews over here,’ Gabe said, kicking off his loafers. ‘One over that way in St Catherine’s and another in St Helier. They’re out a lot over the year. Most of the call outs are for tourists who’ve sailed to the island, don’t know the waters and underestimate the currents.’
‘I know they have their work cut out for them near where I lived in Devon,’ Daisy said, recalling her mother once being upset about someone she’d known drowning when they’d gone to save a crew in distress. She’d always had a strong respect of the sea and never understood when others took chances.
‘The tides in Jersey can rise by forty metres in twenty-four hours, so it can be pretty dodgy here,’ Gabe said, picking up a shell and inspecting it.
‘Why did you choose Jersey to come and work in, Daisy?’ Lydia asked. ‘I would have thought you’d want to stay somewhere familiar, especially growing up in Devon. It’s beautiful there.’
Daisy shrugged. She couldn’t tell them she was hiding from someone. ‘Jersey is more like Devon than I expected,’ she said.
‘You mean the narrow lanes and high banks,’ Gabe teased.
‘Well, you also have lovely Jersey cream over here, too,’ she said. ‘But I meant the rocky headlands and the pretty little bays and coves. Not that I’ve seen too many yet.’
‘Most people come here to work because they were brought here on holidays as children and liked the idea of returning to work for a season or two,’ Lydia said, bending to pick up a string of seaweed. ‘I love putting this stuff on my garden; it’s the best thing for the soil.’
Daisy didn’t like to admit she’d never had any holidays when she was growing up. Her mum had never managed to earn enough to have the luxury of spare cash in her pocket. ‘No, I came here because Gabriel mentioned it was where he was from. I’d never been before and knew nothing about it, so I looked it up at our local library and discovered a Jersey-based jobsite. I applied for a few things and ended up being offered a job at the Encore.’
‘So, you didn’t particularly aim to work with us?’ Lydia asked, linking arms with Daisy as they walked across the soft creamy sand.
Daisy shook her head. ‘No, but I’ve always loved Art Deco and the architecture fascinates me. I wasn’t aware Gabriel had any connection to the place. We only ever spoke about his ambitions as a marine explorer, didn’t we, Gabe?’ He nodded. ‘It was only him describing the pretty beaches and coves and the clifftop walks and the happy, relaxed lifestyle that made me intrigued enough to find out more. When Mum died I needed somewhere to live, so I left Devon and came here.’
