The Sweetness of Liberty James

by Janey Lewis

‘Have you spoken to Savannah since she went back?’

  ‘Briefly. Ed had a good chat, and Pa has spoken to her. She sounds calm but a little desperate. Apparently, she is not allowed to leave the house unless chaperoned by one of his private bodyguards.’

  ‘Did she find out what the house in Paris is for?’ asked Liberty.

  ‘No, but she thinks that if Khalid is looking for a base in Europe it may just be for business reasons. I have people attempting to find out if there are planning applications in, or any suspect comings and goings.’

  ‘Do try to enjoy yourself between times,’ Liberty said, squeezing his arm.

  ‘Will do what I can,’ replied Grahame with a wry smile.

  Edmund was chatting to Paloma, explaining that he was about to take over the running of the Denhelm Estate.

  ‘What does that involve?’ she asked, a twinkle in her eye. ‘Yelling at servants and kicking dogs?’

  Before he could bluster and get upset, and inform her that the estate ran five separate businesses, all profit-making, Deirdre interrupted and told Paloma not to tease. Paloma thought to herself that if only he relaxed he would be a heartbreaker. It hadn’t escaped her attention that his eyes kept wandering to where Liberty stood glowing beneath the soft pub lights.

  ‘Right, time to go,’ instructed Jonathan, who as always was reading the first lesson.

  When they arrived at the church, his small family group entered the boxed pew at the front, together with Deirdre and her party, as there was otherwise only standing space left in the packed building. Liberty found herself in-between Edmund and Paloma, and despite having plenty of room, Paloma kept shuffling into Liberty, making her move closer to Edmund. He started as though burnt, and Liberty smiled and whispered not to worry, she wouldn’t bite, as she looked up at his face.

  It was a jolly service. Despite knowing well that this was the only time he would see the majority of the faces until the following year, the vicar was a showman, and enjoyed himself immensely. His sermon was short and positive, just in case it encouraged a few more visits in the coming months.

  Jonathan read beautifully. His clipped vowels rang out over the speakers, and the flickering candles hid the haunted look in his eyes. Liberty noticed the fresh flowers beneath the plaque in the side chapel that read: ‘Helena de Weatherby. Wife and Mother. 1946–1974. Much missed.’

  As they filed up the aisle for Communion there were a few tuts as people noticed Deirdre had brought Dijon in with her, but the tutting turned to laughter as Dijon waddled up to the Communion knee rest and sat on it. She figured it was probably his last Christmas and he needed all the help he could get. The vicar looked bemused for a moment, then shrugged his shoulders and intoned, ‘The body of Christ’, and popped a wafer into Dijon’s mouth, thinking as he did so that he might get some front page publicity in the Parish News.

  ‘Let’s move to the country,’ said Bob to J-T as they disgorged into the night.

  ‘Oh, yes, and by the second of January you will be desperate for the city lights and disappear,’ replied J-T, as Bob kissed him warmly, to the shock and delight of the villagers standing around.

  There goes my front page, thought the vicar. Miss Scally was probably already writing her objections, about how the standard of village life had fallen, so he made sure to go and shake the boys’ hands and suggest they might like to attend morning service too.

  ‘I think we will be busy making cocktails by then, but thank you for a lovely service,’ said J-T, laughing.

  On their way back to The Nuttery Deirdre said to Jonathan, ‘I’m so pleased you are coming tomorrow. Where is Mrs Goodman?’

  ‘Oh, she wanted an early night, and she will go to the service tomorrow morning. But she is no doubt making us a hearty meal for our return in case the roast duck we ate earlier wasn’t enough!’ he said. ‘See you at eleven. Happy Christmas.’

  Standing in the garden, encouraging the puppy to wee, Liberty looked up at the stars and wished that everyone would have a happy time, and that Savannah was doing all right. Then she whispered, ‘And I know I am being selfish, but please make my venture a success.’

  She told Teal she would feel a bit silly if it all failed, and then assured her Father Christmas wouldn’t come if she didn’t wee.

  32

  Father Christmas did come. Waking next morning everyone had a miniature tree, complete with lights, at the bottom of their bed. Underneath were sweets, toys and hand-made biscuits, together with a Thermos jug of coffee and another with hot milk.

  The puppy found the biscuits first, but Liberty didn’t mind, as she felt blissfully happy, despite the nagging thought in the back of her brain that such happiness should be shared with a man. Oh well, dogs, husbands – much alike, really, she thought as Teal tugged the trailing belt of her dressing gown and it fell open. Going downstairs to let the puppy out, she thought, I’m certainly not phoning Percy to say Happy Christmas. But she did wonder what he would be doing, and reminded herself to call his parents later. She had sent them gifts, together with a long letter telling them what she had been up to, and saying that she hoped Cecil was responding to the treatment. She had also sent Mrs Stickybunns a huge Christmas cactus, remembering how she loved them.

  A couple of hours later, the kitchen was a hive of activity, the women happily working alongside each other. Deirdre was laying out a side of wild smoked salmon on a cedar plank, Liberty was making potato pancakes to accompany it, and Paloma was making a dill, horseradish and sour cream sauce. Evangeline had offered her assistance, but Paloma saw she was a little nauseous and sent her off to relax. Nobody was to be allowed in the dining room until Christmas lunch was served late in the afternoon as the table had been laid already, but there was room in the kitchen for breakfast. They set out freshly baked lemon cakes and croissants, preserves and pitchers of champagne mixed with blood orange juice, to drink with coffee and hot chocolate.

  While the others ate and chatted, Liberty coated small local goat’s cheeses in crushed walnuts for frying later to go on a beetroot salad. This would be followed by roast beef, roast potatoes, parmesan parsnips and purple sprouting broccoli. Dessert would be a port and blackberry jelly, and a ‘Clarence’ pudding, which Deirdre had made as promised, as she thought it celebratory yet light after such a big meal. She had coated it in edible gold leaf. A whole Stilton was ready on the sideboard for anyone greedy enough to manage it.

  ‘I can’t imagine how Jonathan must be feeling,’ said Deirdre. ‘He was so looking forward to the sound of children tearing into their presents and demanding to go for a ride.’

  ‘Well, then,’ replied Paloma, ‘it’s good he is coming here. Tell me about you and he – has he proposed again this year?’

  Deirdre guffawed and said her friend knew too much.

  ‘Ah, but did you say yes this time?’

  ‘Don’t be silly, darling. Anyway, with Alain turning up I don’t need any more complications. More bubbly, anyone?’ It was clear she didn’t want to pursue this line of conversation.

  Evangeline, who so far had abstained completely, enjoyed a much diluted glass of champagne, and requested a ginger biscuit.

  ‘I either had too much caviar last night or too much fun,’ she explained. ‘The baby is wriggling around like crazy.’

  ‘Sit down, and we will bring you anything you need,’ ordered Paloma. ‘Honestly, whatever was I thinking, my first grandchild, to bring you to this madhouse? But you aren’t born yet, of course.’

  At that moment there was a scuffle and a shuffle as the dogs raced to the front door. Through the glass panels all they could see were the four legs of a horse and one of the rider’s.

  ‘Happy Christmas!’ yelled Edmund as they flung open the door. One of his twice-yearly smiles transformed his face.

  ‘You are somewhat early,’ said Deirdre. ‘Anything wrong?’

  ‘I was riding home through the village and noticed the door of Duck End was open and nobody came when I called. I wasn’t sure i
f you knew.’

  ‘No, I didn’t,’ replied Liberty, looking worried. ‘I’ll grab my coat.’ She followed Edmund across the green.

  ‘You hold Badger while I investigate,’ instructed Edmund, handing Liberty the reins. ‘Don’t you come inside.’

  She waited a good ten minutes for him to re-emerge. When he did, he shrugged his shoulders and said, ‘All seems fine. You should be more careful. Even at Christmas people could load all these antiques in minutes and be off, given the chance.’

  ‘I am sure I wouldn’t have left the door open,’ countered Liberty. ‘You have to turn the key to close it from the outside. I’ll go in and take a look myself.’

  ‘If you must, but I did check thoroughly.’ Edmund felt she was being a little ungrateful. ‘I had better get home and see to Badger, not to mention change my clothes,’ said Edmund. ‘Nice place you have, by the way. You have excellent taste.’

  As she walked through the house, it seemed to be the perfectly furnished home she had been creating for the past few weeks, but it felt different, somehow. She couldn’t put her finger on anything, but something was definitely odd. Walking slowly back to The Nuttery, she kept trying to remember if she had locked the door properly after taking Paloma round. Had she been careless?

  ‘Everything OK?’ asked Deirdre.

  ‘Yes, I think so. Nice of Edmund to bother. He could have just assumed I was in there. I’m not sure I thanked him, but he makes me feel so useless!’

  ‘Maybe he wanted a nose at where you are going to live,’ suggested Paloma.

  ‘What for? It’s not an estate cottage.’

  ‘Perhaps he has more of a personal interest?’

  ‘An interest in making my life more difficult, no doubt. I hope he won’t put up the rent on the old butcher’s shop before I’ve even opened.’

  ‘“LIBERTEAS” is its name, and it will be so successful you will be able to buy him out in five years’ time,’ stated Paloma with such sincerity Liberty wanted to believe her.

  The two brothers walked in shortly after that, carrying an assortment of packages. Mrs Goodman followed, her head barely visible behind a glass bowl containing a trifle decorated with hundreds and thousands.

  ‘Mr de Weatherby mustn’t go without his Christmas trifle,’ she explained to anyone listening, and then in a lower voice said to Deirdre, ‘I’m trying to get him to eat more and it’s always been his favourite. I hope you don’t mind.’

  Deirdre hugged the little housekeeper, and helped her place it safely in the pantry.

  As they spread their presents around the tree, Edmund explained these included the children’s ones.

  ‘We needed to get them out of the house,’ he said. ‘Pa is getting maudlin. He really seems to have taken this hard. He thinks they will be shipped off to school and he will never see them again. I keep trying to explain that if they are in Switzerland, it will be far easier to hop over there for weekends than going to Abu Dhabi.’

  ‘Yes,’ said Gray, ‘but I’ve heard some pretty gruesome stories of separated parents or estranged grandparents getting to the school gates only to be turned away, as the school has been instructed “no visitors”. You can imagine, some of these children come from ludicrously wealthy or famous families, or their parents might be top government officials, and there could be a kidnap risk, so schools have to be really careful.’

  ‘Yes, well, thank you, Gray, for that cheery note. Pa will be here in a minute, so we’d best change the subject.’ Edmund glared at his younger brother.

  Taking matters into her own paws, Teal at that moment chose to wee all over Edmund’s hand-made shoes. Liberty blushed with embarrassment and hurried the puppy outside while J-T poured a glass of vintage champagne and thrust it into Edmund’s hands to distract him.

  Paloma and Deirdre got the giggles and ineffectually tried to mop up the puddle with tiny lace handkerchiefs left out for the canapés.

  ‘Sweet puppy, huh?’ said Grahame, elbowing Edmund with a grin. He knew his brother saw no point in lapdogs, but he too had noticed the way Ed had been gazing at Liberty, and how he had gasped when she came into the room before poor Teal relieved herself.

  ‘Dogs should be kept outside and used for hunting, shooting and herding sheep,’ huffed Edmund, ‘not for sitting on laps, especially dogs with big eyes who look as though they have just run into a wall.’

  ‘Oh, Grumpy Dumpy,’ jibed Deirdre, clinking glasses with him. ‘I promise, five minutes with a pug and you will be converted. Here, have a house-trained one.’ And she handed him Custard for a leg warmer. The dog nestled happily on his lap and waited for crumbs from the canapés to fall.

  Jonathan then arrived and told them he had spoken with Savannah and the children, who had, in spite of the fact that Muslims don’t observe Christmas, enjoyed Christmas stockings, the excuse being that Father Christmas couldn’t possibly be seen as a Christian.

  ‘They are all going to the races. I think Savvie is trying to convince her husband she can be a good wife, and conform.’

  J-T had taken over as host, as Deirdre was chatting happily to Paloma and Jonathan. Noticing how he kept everyone’s glass topped up, Liberty said to him, ‘You know, if you ever wanted to, you could run an excellent hotel. You and Bob could open one in Tunbridge Wells and send everyone to eat at my place.’

  ‘Sorry? You can’t seriously expect us to leave London, can you?’ said Bob, cutting across J-T. ‘My gallery is really taking off, and J-T has clients lined up for months – if he ever returns to work, that is.’ He sounded very uppity, and Liberty was surprised at his over-the-top reaction.

  ‘It may give you more time together,’ she tried.

  ‘The only reason,’ Bob reminded her tautly, ‘that we have spent so much time apart recently, is because J-T came down here to help you. Actually, we may have needed some time apart, but he will return after the New Year and I am sure he will be glad to be back in town.’

  Liberty remembered Bob as the soft squidgy one who burst into tears at the sight of a limping dog. Where had this tough businessman come from, she wondered as she retrieved scallops baked in their shells with a touch of rosemary and butter from the Aga. She topped them with a tiny spoonful of chestnut and Jerusalem artichoke purée and placed them on a platter with lemon wedges. Another platter bore the smoked salmon; yet another was laden with tiny soft boiled quails’ eggs sprinkled with sumac and sesame seeds. The women walked round the room serving the goodies, and hoped everyone would remain sufficiently sober until the Christmas feast was served.

  After all the presents had been opened, marvelled over and tidied away, a round of charades ensued. It was a one-sided game, as Bob and Mrs Goodman, thanks to their relative sobriety, got most of them quickly. Mrs G blushed as she guessed Paloma was trying to act out The Joy of Sex, only to be told it was Watership Down.

  ‘Oh, no! I was hopping like a rabbit and trying to act “down”!’ Paloma cried, then screamed with laughter.

  Even Edmund relaxed after a few glasses of champagne. He sidled up to Liberty and complimented her on the canapés, then asked her what she thought to achieve with her café. He enjoyed watching her green eyes light up with passion as she talked about giving everyone the chance to experience good local food, simply cooked, alongside beautiful pastries and bread. She had been experimenting with a recipe for a walnut and poppy seed gateau, filled with fresh damson conserve and whipped cream.

  ‘It’s got to be a winter winner, with a steaming mug of cocoa made with cream and grated black chocolate,’ she told him.

  He surprised himself by replying, ‘I am now going to be a local, so you can experiment on me.’

  Liberty said that as her landlord he was welcome to come and check out her produce any time, and then she reddened as she realised the double meaning of what she had said.

  Jonathan, Edmund and Gray had given her an old silver sugar shaker as a present.

  ‘It may need to be kept under the counter, but as you serve people y
ou can always dust things at the last minute,’ said Mrs Goodman, who had thought of the gift. ‘It’s the little things that make the difference. I have put a fine mesh inside the top, which you can’t see from the outside, so that if you fill it with icing sugar, it will sift it as it comes out. I made the assumption that you will be using so much that it will not have time to clump up much,’ said the practical older lady.

  As Liberty thanked Edmund for the immensely thoughtful gift she felt a little embarrassed that she had only given him stiff white linen handkerchiefs embroidered with E. d. W.

  ‘It was the only thing I knew you might use,’ she explained, not adding that when she had found them she had thought they were as stiff and colourless as he was. He was such a confusing person, one moment so formal and the next so thoughtful. She watched him stroking Custard, covering his beautiful dark grey suit in fine white hair. Custard was looking up at him adoringly; Edmund had indeed been converted.

  ‘So, what were they bred for, exactly?’ he asked.

  ‘Well, to be companion dogs for the monks in Tibet, supposedly,’ said Deirdre. ‘Probably kept them warm, too. But they are so loving, and they have no jealousy at all, so they adore whoever is loving them at that moment.’

  ‘No problems with aggression, I suppose, with a mouth like that,’ said Edmund. ‘Couldn’t get a purchase on anything. But you are becoming beautiful to me,’ he added, putting the dog on his shoulder, and Custard took the opportunity to prove him wrong by swiping a mouthful of macadamias from the bowl behind him.

  Goodness, maybe Ed has had too much to drink! thought Liberty, who was watching this conversation closely.

  Claude and Evangeline were giggling as they attempted to explain a game which involved a rolled-up newspaper in a bucket and a person reciting a rhyme while stirring the paper in the bucket. Once they stopped they ran towards some poor seated person, who, if they were paying any attention, jumped up and ran if they didn’t want to be hit with the paper, which was why the game was called ‘whackums’. Everyone laughed uproariously as Claude leapt at Bob, fell over Dijon, and ran around the room with the two bulldogs following and looking anxious as Claude pursued their master.