There were few early morning risers about. Catherine wandered by the ponds where the wild ducks paddled among the water lilies. The Palm Grove buildings might need a freshen up but the grounds and the grove were beautiful, mysterious, romantic. Catherine imagined them to be like the secluded gardens of a maharajah’s palace, the grounds built for a prince and his concubines, or, perhaps, she thought, they were perfect for a dreamy Hawaii Hollywood movie set. It was a calming place, with the serenity of still water, stately palm trees and silence, save for an occasional bird sweeping through the grove and the sounds of Eleanor’s caged exotic birds. It had taken a day to start to deal with the enormity of her encounter with PJ. It was as though it had been a dream, except – if she allowed herself – she could still feel his physical imprint on her skin and in her body and she quivered at the recall. But no matter what she felt and no matter what the circumstances, the bald, damaging fact remained.
