by Janey Lewis
Deirdre and J-T had both shuffled into the kitchen, lured by the smell of cooking bacon, and Deirdre had managed to press some pink grapefruit juice without splashing her crushed velvet dressing gown.
‘You must sleep in a vacuum or something,’ grumbled J-T. ‘I had to go through six face packs to look this bad, and you two look as fresh as daisies.’ He glared at them from behind a vast pair of Prada sunglasses, not so much to keep the light out as to protect onlookers from the red-rimmed swollen eyes behind.
‘Good genes, and a lot less booze than you, young man,’ said Deirdre, chuckling as she handed him a glass of Prosecco and grapefruit. ‘Chin chin!’
Liberty piled the breakfast on to platters along with the freshly baked bread; her mother had found the dough proving and put it in the Aga. None of them had eaten much the night before and this, along with the lack of sleep, had made them all ravenous. Liberty piled marmalade, bacon and a poached egg on a slice of bread, sprinkled them with fried rosemary and handed the plate to J-T. ‘Can you manage a knife and fork or shall I feed you?’ she asked.
‘I can’t manage anything,’ came his pathetic reply.
‘EAT!’ commanded his hosts in unison.
‘Bollocks!’ exclaimed J-T as he struggled with his fork and a shaky hand. As some of the food found his mouth his expletives became more enthusiastic. ‘Bugger me! Is this the best thing ever?’ he asked. ‘Oh my God, why haven’t you given me this before? You must put it on your menu as “Hangover Heaven”.’
‘It’s only because you feel so dreadful,’ said Liberty as she enjoyed her own, but she did think he could have a point for Sunday mornings.
The dogs were feeling left out as the humans devoured the lot. Custard was given only a rasher of bacon and half a sausage, and Deirdre coddled Dijon an egg.
‘He seems off form this morning. Maybe I’ll get Mr Night the vet to come out later.’ Dijon trembled visibly. ‘It’s OK, dear old thing. We’ll take care of you.’ And Deirdre took herself upstairs to dress before she broke down and cried.
Restored to vitality thanks to the hair of the dog and a good breakfast, they all set off to Denhelm Park. Arriving promptly at noon they let themselves in the back door. Mrs Goodman had obviously been working hard. You couldn’t tell there had been a party the previous evening. All the candles had been replaced with poinsettias, and the ribbons, candles and baubles had been put back on the Christmas tree in the hall that had been danced round. The air hung with the scent of fresh flowers and all trace of cigar and cigarette smoke had disappeared.
They found the family in the kitchen. Mrs Goodman was clearing the detritus from a late breakfast, and preparing a fore rib of beef for later. She hadn’t been able to do a ‘proper roast’ for ages; the huge joint, complete with a mottling of beautiful yellow fat, looked as though it would feed twenty.
‘Raised on our farm,’ said The Lord of the Manor as he wandered in. Jonathan was indeed looking both relieved and rather sheepish towards his dear friend. He hugged her close and whispered ‘thank you’. Gray and Edmund were chatting about some government scare. Liberty crossed to where Savannah sat huddled by the Aga, despite the toasty warm kitchen, clutching a black coffee that looked distinctly cold and untouched.
‘Hello, darling,’ she said, brightening at the sight of her old friend. ‘Come up with me to meet the children. They are putting on jodhpurs, desperate for Grandpa to take them out cubbing and, although I have explained that it is the wrong time of year, they have grown up with bedtime stories of their mother and her friend riding around Denhelm, and want to see if it is as beautiful as I have led them to believe; I’m not sure the English weather will impress them much though.’
As they climbed the stairs, Liberty told her not to worry and that children, as far as she knew, never seemed to notice the cold, and then she asked where Khalid was. Down in the kitchen, Deirdre was quizzing Jonathan on the same subject.
‘Gone. Flew back to Abu Dhabi this morning. Just left a note. Must have been at the crack of dawn, as even Mrs G missed him. He didn’t say goodbye . . .’ And her big blue eyes clouded with tears.
As Savannah cleaned herself up to greet the children, Liberty admired some painting on the wall, and suddenly realised she was gazing up at Edmund. Blushing for no apparent reason, she returned to Savannah’s bedroom where she was getting dressed and asked the question she was already dreading the answer to. ‘Will you have to leave?’
‘No, I think it will be best if the children and I stay on here for a while. They need to get to know Pa, and I need to think, but now is not the time to talk,’ she whispered as two beautiful children, dressed head to toe in tiny tweed, looking like a Ralph Lauren advertisement, raced screaming with excitement from their bedroom. Liberty was appalled at herself for feeling pleased her friend would be staying; she had missed her so, but she knew in her heart she would have to persuade her to go back to Abu Dhabi, where she and the children belonged.
‘Mummy, Mummy, where’s Grandpa? He promised, he promised!’ cried the children, and they both tumbled around Savannah’s feet like tiger cubs playing. Riding before they could walk, they had loved hearing stories from a young age of their mother hunting before breakfast, galloping over the beautiful English countryside with her best friend Liberty beside her. They would lunch beside the lake on sandwiches and pies Deirdre had tucked into bags that hung from their saddles, returning home as the light faded. As Savannah’s children had so far only known a country where the temperature rarely fell below twenty-five degrees during the day, and consisted mostly of sand, they expected English riding to be done round a grassy racetrack as seen on TV with their parents. They were still unable to believe how green everything was in England, even in the depth of winter.
‘Come on!’ said Savannah, suddenly excited herself. ‘Why don’t you join us?’
‘What fun!’ cried Liberty. ‘Can I borrow boots and a hat?’
They clattered downstairs, the children racing ahead, both adorable in their animated state. It was contagious. When Savannah told the kitchen of their plan, Mrs Goodman was left standing alone while the rest of them traipsed towards the stables – a glorious quadrangle of boxes filled with hunters and thoroughbreds that Jonathan bred from and rode.
The stable boys got to work and tacked up ponies for the children. While they were preparing to mount, larger horses were made ready for the grown-ups.
Gray and Edmund kept their horses stabled at Denhelm, and were soon walking slowly across the quadrangle, big grins on their faces. Deirdre was competent enough on a walking armchair of a steed. J-T, who had never been closer to a horse than a high street betting shop, was put on old Nesbit, who had lived at Denhelm for as long as anyone could remember, and could carry anyone safely. He would happily walk through a crowd throwing bricks without flinching.
‘He must have been a police horse once upon a time, but we can’t remember,’ explained Jonathan, as he helped J-T into the saddle. ‘Just hold his mane, and he will follow us.’
J-T looked rather unhappy, but didn’t say anything. Dressed in Gucci trainers, designer jeans and a bright pink cashmere blazer and turtleneck, he made everyone smile – but they admired his spirit. He was visibly shaking, but as no one had any idea whether it was from nerves or hangover, they left him to find out the thrill of riding on such a stunning day. He was indeed doing some admiring, but it was of his own reflection as he allowed the horse to wander past a window while he surreptitiously took a swig of vodka from a hip flask.
He kept sneaking glances at Gray, wondering why Jonathan’s younger son had not spoken to him yesterday. Now, with a fairly clear head, and ‘gaydar’ back in action, the reason became apparent. He took in the cherubic beauty astride a strong chestnut horse, and he wondered why Liberty had not warned him of Gray’s sexuality. He would ask her if he was fortunate enough to return safely to the stables.
Edmund sat atop a spirited grey, looking as stern and solemn as ever, but he gave himself away
by lovingly pulling his mount’s ears and whispering sweet nothings into her neck. He always enjoyed riding out with his father, but today somehow felt like an adventure as they all set out, trying to keep the children in check as they cantered along and happily jumped over logs and low hedges.
‘Don’t worry,’ said Jonathan to Deirdre and J-T. ‘We will go through gates.’
The low winter sun warmed their backs as they followed the children at a more sedate pace, forming the perfect English scene, hot breath coming from the horses’ nostrils into the cold air.
Deirdre, Jonathan and J-T slowly rode along together, saddle leather creaking happily, while the others grew accustomed to their mounts and the more accomplished and brazen enjoyed the gallops and open fields. Liberty had wondered if she would remember what to do, but once up, she felt as happy on a horse as in the kitchen, and she asked herself why she had ever stopped riding. Edmund glanced over to where Liberty and Savannah were chattering away like starlings, only stopping to call the children back or ask if they were OK. Liberty’s hair streamed out from beneath her helmet. It was never a clothing item to flatter, but the two young women carried it with aplomb. Their cheeks rosy from the frosty air and their eyes sparkling, it could have been twenty years ago, thought Edmund. Liberty could feel his critical gaze upon her, and wondered why he made her feel like a dizzy schoolgirl again. She had met Gray the previous evening as a woman, but would always feel like a silly child when Edmund was around. Perhaps he made everyone feel like that?
Savannah was telling her all about life in Abu Dhabi; the initial excitement, followed by the realisation that Western women were mostly seen as tasteless, brash whores – sadly often true in the expat communities. She found the life there so different: glamorous and exciting, especially in the racing community, but she soon discovered that women were not expected to be involved or seen out of the home alone. She thought Khalid had only got to know her because she let slip when she first met him that her father was great friends with Henry Herbert, the famous trainer. He thought she might be able to help him get introduced to the British racing circle; difficult to enter and even harder to be accepted by.
They both adored their children, but after a while realised their lives were so separate. He became increasingly possessive; not, thought Liberty, a trait that Savannah would find easy to deal with, as she was nothing if not a free spirit. Savannah also told her of the long, empty days with nothing to do, as she wasn’t allowed to work, and Khalid had insisted upon a fully staffed house. She had spent most of her days riding, and then became great friends with a psychotherapist who had gradually pulled out all her insecurities, none of which she had been aware of before.
‘She told me I had spent all my life running away from my birth. A load of it was trash, but I could see something in it. I suppose I had always felt to blame for Mummy’s death. Pa never blamed me intentionally, but in angry moments when we were children Gray and Ed used to say if it weren’t for me, Ma would still be here. I know they didn’t mean it really, but still, I felt it deep inside me somewhere. That’s why I had always run away. The more I thought about it, the sillier it seemed to be away from the place I really love. I spent all my time telling the children about my home, and how I grew up, and how magical it was back here. You saw how excited they were this morning. Well, in Abu Dhabi, Khalid started asking me to stop talking about England, said they were his children and should be brought up as true Arabs, which of course is right, but it made me miss home even more. Eventually, I persuaded him they needed to know their grandpa and uncles, and reluctantly he agreed we could come for Christmas. But as soon as we arrived, he announced we should make the most of it as it would definitely not become a regular thing. I asked if we could travel with him when he comes for a race, and he said he had plans to send them away to school – Paris, then Switzerland – and when I said that’s not for years, he said they were booked for next spring.
‘I went mad. They really are my life, and I told him he had no right, which of course is exactly what he does have. I told him I wanted a divorce. I thought he would fight tooth and nail. Arab men really think they own you. But it seems as though he has just abandoned us here. I don’t know what to tell the children. They will be devastated. And yet, look at them. What a place to grow up!’
Liberty regarded the two youngsters, laughing as they trotted around their uncles. Happiness glowed from them. But having been through it herself, she was only too aware of the pain they faced if their parents were to separate, especially to different countries.
‘I’m sure you can come to some arrangement. He will realise how much he misses you all, and you can persuade him to let you come home more often.’
‘But I really hate it there!’ Savannah cried with surprising force. ‘I only realised how trapped I felt as I stepped off the plane. Here I can wear what I like, say what I like, talk to men or women. He was in a bad mood last night because of my outfit. I mean, really! I’ve spent the past eight years covered from wrist to ankle whenever we went out. One bit of cleavage and you would have thought I was Lady Godiva.’
‘Aren’t you running again?’ asked Liberty softly. ‘And think of the children.’
‘They are all I do think about! You wouldn’t understand, but since I had both of them I just don’t think of anything else. What people should do before they marry is ask not what do you want from your marriage, but how do you want your children to be brought up. If only I had known that Khalid is from the ‘be seen but not heard, and send them off to boarding school’ train of thought, I would never have dreamt of having babies with him.’
Liberty brushed off the hurt she felt from her friend’s selfish comment about not understanding. She knew Savannah had not meant it personally, and didn’t realise herself how much Liberty would love to be in the position of battling with Percy over children’s rights.
They now concentrated on keeping the children in check, otherwise, as Gray laughingly pointed out, ‘They might end up in Wales.’ He, especially, was really enjoying the feeling of freedom.
‘Such a dazzling day,’ called out Deirdre as her mare galloped past them. Liberty wondered what was causing her mother to be so carefree, as she was not the most confident of riders normally.
It really was one of those days that made you think there could be no evil in the world. The sun, low in the sky, glinted off frozen puddles and lit up the branches of the ancient oaks, beautiful in their simplicity. Without their clothing of leaves they looked like sculptures set on the hill.
They managed to encourage the children to turn in a wide circle, giving them the illusion of freedom without letting them know they were now headed home.
‘Do stay for supper,’ Jonathan implored Deirdre as they clattered into the quadrangle. ‘Mrs Goodman will have enough for us all.’
‘Yes, do,’ echoed Savannah and Gray. Edmund had already handed his reins to one of the stable boys and was stalking back to the house.
Sasha and Hussein were dragging Liberty by her hands towards the house. She looked over her shoulder at J-T, who was dismounting slowly and carefully. ‘Can you walk?’ she called.
‘My God! What have I done to my arse?’
Not wanting him to make crude references to his anatomy in front of the children she smiled warmly and told him how impressed she was with his riding, and he limped towards them.
Much as they wanted to go home and laze in hot baths, Liberty was needed to inspect the children’s bedrooms and the toys Grandpa had filled their indoor treehouse with – his excitement at becoming a grandfather had led him to great extravagance and he had arranged with his forester a brilliant, magical construction from ancient twisted rhododendron branches and beech flooring, which filled a spare room in the house. It was like something out of Hogwarts and The Hobbit combined. The children’s happiness was so contagious that Savannah, Liberty and Gray ended up having a tea party with teddy bears, a complete set of My Little Ponies, which they had to remember
the names of, and a large pink rabbit, all squeezed into the child-friendly chairs, which had also been made by the forester. Meanwhile, J-T lounged on a comfortable sofa on the landing and rubbed his thighs.
Deirdre and Jonathan found themselves alone in the drawing room, standing warming their rears in front of the log fire. Jonathan coughed and said, ‘I do hope things haven’t changed between us. I value your friendship more than you could know, and as much as I think we could make a great team, I do understand your reason for not wanting to take me in, so to speak. I would also like to apologise for Edmund. I don’t know what the matter is with him. You didn’t say anything to him when he was at The Nuttery, did you? I know how you like to stick your oar in. He seems distant. I only hope he isn’t thinking of refusing to take over the estate.’
‘Why do you want to retire now?’ asked Deirdre. ‘You love your position in the community. Everyone holds you in such high regard. I can’t believe you want to pass on all the responsibility to Ed now.’
‘No, but I have seen so many problems when it’s left until death. A child who has struggled to make his own way in life knows, nonetheless, that this huge responsibility will be landed on his shoulders eventually, and it still comes as a great shock when it’s done earlier rather than later, but if the parent dies, it’s almost impossible. And it’s not helped by everyone in the neighbourhood hating change. I think if I gradually give him the responsibility now, I can be here to guide and assist, hopefully not hinder, be the buffer between the staff and Ed, introduce him to all the villagers and try to lessen the shock of it all happening at once.’
It made sense, although Deirdre just couldn’t imagine the grumpy, stern Edmund ever being as popular on the estate as his father, who had such a knack of making everyone feel like his friend no matter what their background or breeding. Her first meeting with Jonathan was a prime example. When she and Alain had first set up home in Littlehurst, Deirdre delighted in creating her dream cottage garden. She had seen the beautiful Denhelm Park from her bedroom window, its driveway banked by primroses, violets and bluebells. Well, where better to start? she thought to herself. No one will miss a few of each. Every day for a week, she took her trowel and a shoulder bag for a walk down the drive. Looking around first, she would occasionally bend down, dig up a few of the prettiest specimens with good roots, and pop them into her bag. Quickly scuffing her shoes over the soil so the gap didn’t show, she then casually strolled back to her garden and planted the stolen goodies.