Likened to Ava Gardner, singer Mary Marshall was destined to be a star and by 1956 a glittering career in showbusiness was calling. But so were love and a life in entertainment in Guernsey, as Shaun Shackleton discovered THE Forest bungalow is tucked discreetly down a country lane. The living room is an opulent blend of leather sofas, gold lamps and French windows and the walls bear testament to someone well accustomed to the camera’s eye.

Dressed in evening wear and stage costumes, a raven-haired chanteuse beams down from hand-tinted photos of the 1950s.

The raven is now dove-white and a smart raspberry suit has replaced the frocks. But the moment she walks through the lounge door, it is obvious that the woman I’ve come to see has lost none of her star quality.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ says Mary Marshall, her Lancastrian accent still discernable after more than 45 years in Guernsey. ‘Before the end of the interview, remind me to play you Kiss, Kiss, Kiss.’

A Northern quirk, mentioning the end at the beginning, but it’s nigh-on always relevant.

Mary was talking about her 1958 recording debut, a double A-side single called My Island Home/Kiss, Kiss, Kiss.

The record was a huge turning point in her life – and the title was apt. It was to close the door on what had promised to be a glittering career in London and open another onto an equally exciting new life in Guernsey.

With the single doing well, recording giant Columbia was pressing her to do another. But then she met Sydney.

Guernsey’s Mr Entertainment Sydney James had made the island his home in 1949 and the London-born impresario and promoter’s shows were legendary, playing to packed houses.

Always on the lookout for fresh talent, he was told by a friend: ‘You have to book Mary Marshall in Guernsey. She’ll tear them apart.’

Sydney saw her perform and was knocked out.

‘Come and appear in Guernsey at Christmas,’ he begged her.

‘If you’ve got any other bookings, I’ll double the fee.’

Mary smiled at the memory.

‘He said: “Come over to my little island, you’ll love it here.” And I did. The warmth of the people was tremendous.’

Mary being Mary – a no-nonsense lass – she had always been aware of the less salubrious side of showbiz. But she wasn’t easily led.

‘I always said that if I couldn’t get on with my talent, then I wouldn’t get on at all.’

And it was that which won Sydney over.

He booked her for a show at St George’s Hall in 1959 and after a show-stopping performance decided there and then that he wanted to manage her and have her appear exclusively in his shows.

But there was a lot more to it than that – because it was then that she also won Sydney’s heart.

‘Sydney always had a young outlook. He was very charismatic and he was always so smart,’ said Mary, who was in her mid-20s at the time. ‘He had fallen for me the moment he met me. With me it was respect at first, then respect and love came together.’

Her parents were concerned about the age difference – at 46, Sydney was 21 years her senior.

But they were allayed when the couple visited them up north – especially when he presented her mother with a beautiful basket of flowers.He charmed the hind legs off her,’ said Mary, who confessed that, ‘I’d always thought that you couldn’t marry someone in the business because they’d be professionally jealous and you couldn’t marry someone outside the business because they wouldn’t understand’.

In 1960 Sydney and Mary were married at their flat in The Grange, with veteran whistler Ronnie Ronalde as best man.

They became the Guernsey entertainment world’s golden couple and brought over many entertainers to appear at venues including Whitewoods, The Wayside Cheer and The Hermitage and at the hugely popular Old Tyme Music Hall at St George’s Hall. Some later became huge stars.

But after the birth of their two daughters – Hayley, in 1965, and Cindy, in 1969 – Mary decided to take a back seat as far as performing was concerned.

‘I voluntarily retired,’ she explained. ‘I didn’t want to be overexposed. At the same time as being on a cloud, you can also become part of the furniture.’

Her last show was in 1974.

Mary had saved all the earnings from her career – a considerable amount – and she was able to take her girls on holiday and relax away from the spotlight. She still, however, remained director of Sydney and Mary James Productions.

Sydney was proud that Mary was already a successful professional in her own right and respected the fact that she would never need to trade on his name to have a career.

She had done this herself since the age of 17 and only truly began to reap the rewards worthy of her talent after stepping off the train in London in 1956.

That was a vibrant, exciting year, especially for those fortunate enough to be in showbiz. Look Back in Anger by John Osborne debuted at the Royal Court Theatre, rock ‘n’ roll was making its mark on the hit parade and My Fair Lady starring Audrey Hepburn was a Broadway smash.

London was the perfect environment for a beautiful 22-year-old singer to make contacts and concentrate on being a solo artist.

‘I found a flat in Maida Vale and began working in floor shows at various nightclubs such as The Pigale, Jack of Clubs and The Stork,’ said Mary. ‘I joined the 142 Club, a showbiz haunt, for contacts and camaraderie. I’d go there for a bob’s-worth of red wine.’

Regulars included Tommy Steele, Dicky Valentine, Jackie Trent, Dorothy Squires, Roger Moore and Matt Munro.

Mary’s name appeared on many a bill poster, but a misprint on a show programme changed her name from Hasmall to Marshall. After rave reviews, she thought the name was lucky, so she kept it.

If this heady swirl of stars wasn’t enough for a girl still in her early 20s, in 1958 Mary learned that the record label, Decca, was interested in her. But while the executives were deliberating, Columbia stepped in with an offer – to make a test recording with the promoter, Denis Preston.

Along with many other nervous hopefuls at the studio that day was a young singer by the name of Cliff Richards – at that time his name had an ‘s’ – who’d just recorded Move It.He said to me: “I didn’t think I’d get this contract, but I had a sound they wanted.”‘

During the recording, Sri Lankan musician Nimal Mendis, who wrote the song, Kiss, Kiss, Kiss, for her, accompanied her on the piano and kissed the back of his hand, adding sound effects.

‘I was so nervous as this was my first time,’ said Mary. ‘Then, during the middle eighth, I looked up at Nimal and got the giggles. “That’s torn it”, I thought. “I’m going to get the boot”.’

But legendary producer Joe Meek ran out from behind the mixing desk and shouted, ‘Do it again’.

‘He said it was an excellent record but the giggle would sell it, so we left it in.’

All the music papers, including New Musical Express and Melody Maker, gave the song rave reviews.

‘It was a super experience,’ said Mary. ‘Frank Sinatra’s song of the time was rated five stars and so was mine.’

Mary was launched into the big time. Signing autographs was commonplace, there were tours to Iceland and Cyprus and between contracts she appeared in movies including Blood of the Vampire and Man with the Gun, presented American movie star Jayne Mansfield with a bunch of flowers for a publicity shot (the photo never appeared because, Mary confided, the Hollywood star believed her figure compared unfavourably with hers), was nearly Gina Lollobrigida’s body double and was asked to audition for the part of Maid Marion in the TV series, Robin Hood.

That was when she met Sydney James. London’s loss was Guernsey’s gain.

It’s been a long and glamorous journey from Bolton to the island and not without its fair share of hard work and sadness.

Sydney died in 1985. Mary lost a loving husband and the golden era of Guernsey variety went with him.

In 1994 she married James Cassaday, former Fire Brigade chief and an old acquaintance of Sydney’s, and today Mary still sings, albeit not in public.

The time had come to hear her. Mary placed My Island Home on her turntable, a gentle calypso reminiscent of Yellow Bird. Then Kiss, Kiss, Kiss, with its tribal drums and that famous giggle in the middle: Real songs recorded in a real way, long before studio trickery and digital multi-tracking. And both with that clear and beautiful soprano.

‘I never knew then how relevant My Island Home would become,’ reflected Mary, listening to her younger self.

Before I left, I had to ask her what she thought of programmes such as The X Factor.

Can they really produce stars?

‘They’re not learning their craft, which is essential to maintain a career. A lot of them are in it just to be famous. I was lucky,’ she said.

Lucky, talented, hard working – take your pick.

But one thing’s for certain: Mary Marshall had that rare commodity, star quality.