The Sweetness of Liberty James

by Janey Lewis

  On reaching Littlehurst, she ignored the comforting lure of her own home and jumping into bed to hide under the covers, and drove straight to her mother’s house, letting herself in through the French doors in the kitchen as she knew they would be unlocked. Then she wished she hadn’t.

  ‘I thought you were staying in town tonight,’ said Deirdre calmly, belying the fact she was standing at the Aga dressed in a floor-length negligee stirring a pan of scrambling eggs. The unsettling part of the picture was the sight of her father standing very close by wearing jeans, a smirk and nothing else, showing off the muscle in his tanned body. He was amazingly fit for a man of seventy-two. He was also holding a rack of toast.

  ‘Mummy, Daddy?’ Liberty didn’t know where to look, so she bent down and said hello to Dijon and Custard. They had been snuffling round Teal, who wanted to tell them of her London experiences.

  ‘I decided against it,’ she continued. ‘Sorry to interrupt. My mistake. Maybe come over for breakfast tomorrow. About nine? I guess I mean both of you.’ And with that she grabbed Teal, backed out of the room through the French doors and, forgetting her car, hurried over to her warm house, where she turned on all the lights, sat in the kitchen and burst into tears.

  ‘Have I no idea what is going on in the world?’ she asked the wriggling pug who was trying to get up on her lap to comfort her. She couldn’t face phoning Percy, so she calmed herself and went upstairs to clean her face of London grime.

  There was frenzied yapping from the kitchen as the doorbell rang.

  Bugger off, Mummy, thought Liberty, but went to let her in.

  ‘Oh, it’s you!’ she exclaimed.

  ‘Sorry to be a disappointment,’ said Edmund, trying to look offended, but he entered the house nonetheless.

  ‘I didn’t mean it like that at all, it’s lovely to see you. I’ve just had a very odd day and was wondering what to do with the rest of it. Please come into the kitchen. I need a glass of wine.’

  ‘I was passing, saw the lights and remembered you were meant to be away. I wanted to check the house. I can leave now that I see you are all right.’

  ‘No, no, please stay.’ Liberty realised she really meant it. She needed a friendly face, and his seemed to be getting better every time she glanced at it.

  Edmund regarded her pale, almond-shaped face, devoid of make-up, her green eyes glistening and slightly bloodshot from crying. God, she is heart-rendingly beautiful, he thought.

  At the same time Liberty was thinking: No make-up and a red nose from crying. I must look a sight. She handed him a bottle of Riesling from the fridge and he uncorked it, looking at her all the while.

  Under his unwavering gaze she went into default mode and asked, ‘Can I make you some supper?’

  ‘No,’ he replied firmly. ‘You pour drinks. I will make supper.’

  Liberty burst into shocked laughter, and couldn’t stop. It became contagious, so in the end both of them stood in her kitchen, shaking with fits of giggles, tears streaming down their faces. As they wiped their eyes Edmund realised he couldn’t remember the last time he had laughed with so much gusto.

  ‘Am I really that funny?’ he asked in a mock stuffy voice. ‘I have lived on my own, you know, and I can knock up a pretty good omelette.’

  ‘OK, challenge on. Eggs on the side there, cheese in the wine fridge (better temperature). I’ll make a salad.’

  So they fussed around each other in companionable silence, finding plates and cutlery, breaking eggs, grating cheese, plucking herbs from the pots on the windowsill. In ten minutes they were sitting at the table with a delicious meal.

  ‘Yum,’ pronounced Liberty. ‘I’m impressed. Not too runny, just right. Funny how you know where everything is in the kitchen.’

  ‘I have sat here often enough watching you,’ said Edmund, thinking how fortunate it was that, despite barely taking his eyes off her when she had been baking him endless samples, he had noticed where things were kept.

  ‘One forgets how delicious the simple things are. Utterly delicious. Thank you, thank you,’ said Liberty, as she cleaned her plate with sheer delight and a wedge of sourdough bread. ‘I feel so much better.’

  ‘So, do you want to talk about it? Or shall I make coffee and tell you that Pa has booked a flight to France?’

  ‘Gosh, love does seem to be in the air,’ replied Liberty.

  Edmund looked at her strangely, his dark eyes boring into hers, making her unsettled and obliged to explain that she had just walked into an odd situation with her parents.

  ‘It wouldn’t have been so strange if they hadn’t divorced umpteen years ago, and haven’t spoken since.’

  ‘I thought I saw his car up there. So, how do you feel about that?’ asked Edmund, removing his gaze from her face and looking instead at his empty plate, relieved and disappointed at the same time that she hadn’t been talking about him.

  ‘I’m not sure. I should be delighted, but I hope they know where this is going. I couldn’t bear it if he hurt Mother again.’

  ‘They are old and wise enough to know what they are getting into.’

  ‘Old, but maybe not too wise,’ said Liberty. After a few glasses of excellent wine, a calming and scrumptious supper and Edmund’s strong presence, she suddenly needed to explain the Percy situation. So she cleared the table and he made coffee. As she talked, she realised how comforting it was to discuss her ex-husband with someone who wouldn’t take sides or judge. But Edmund’s response was surprisingly fierce.

  ‘How dare he not tell you about a baby? He must have known how upset you would be after trying so long for one yourself. But you must get clear facts before saying anything. If it’s not true, and you accuse him, he could get quite nasty. From what I have heard of him, he is not the type to let things lie.’

  ‘He’s left us alone so far. I expected him to make some snide comment about J-T and Gray when the scandal erupted in the papers. J-T was very surprised he didn’t contact the press when it blew up.’

  ‘Oh, that would be because he didn’t want his name in the papers any more than it is now. But depending on whose baby it is, he may well not be able to avoid having a juicy little story or two about himself.’

  ‘I have no right to be angry, but I can’t stop it hurting. Is it selfish and self-pitying to be jealous of a baby fathered by someone I would have been miserable with? Probably,’ Liberty answered her own question, hiding her tear-laden eyes by busying herself looking for chocolates in the fridge and then firing up the espresso machine.

  She jumped as a pair of strong arms wrapped around her from behind. ‘Your time will come, I am sure,’ said Edmund gruffly into her hair. ‘I’m not really sure of the right words to comfort you. If only we could rid the world of selfish arseholes like Percy.’ And then he thought, I am madly in love with this woman, and want to whisk her off to a desert island and give her all the babies she desires. But he just hugged her until she stopped snuffling. He let her go slowly as she said brightly, ‘Coffee’s ready.’

  There was an awkward moment when she turned round and Edmund was standing very close, only two espresso cups between them. They gazed at each other, both ignorant of the way the other felt, but completely held in the moment by the strong emotions flowing between them. Teal leapt up at Edmund’s trouser leg, breaking the spell, and he took the cups and suggested they had coffee by the fire, which he busied himself lighting.

  Liberty meanwhile loaded a tray with florentines and pistachio macaroons, chocolates and the coffee, before joining him.

  ‘Any news about your application for a drinks licence?’ asked Edmund as he piled red alder logs on the already blazing fire. He thought it best to talk about something neutral, and then was distracted again. ‘My word, these macaroons are good. What is it about them?’

  ‘A touch of orange zest and coffee, so they are not too sweet,’ replied Liberty, realising she hadn’t checked the post. She leapt up and found a pile of junk in the box, together with a large manila enve
lope containing a single A4 sheet.

  ‘“Dear Mrs James,”’ she read. ‘“Thank you for your recent application to be a licence holder at the above premises. Unfortunately, we cannot by law allow ourselves to grant licences to holders of criminal records. Yours sincerely . . .” What on earth?’

  She handed the letter to Edmund, collapsed into a chair and yelled to the gods, ‘Could today get any worse?’

  ‘What criminal record do you have?’ asked Edmund, as it was the only question he could think of.

  ‘Exactly,’ she replied. ‘I may have had a few parking tickets over the years, but nothing more.’

  ‘Not even in your debauched youth?’

  As Liberty flashed an angry look at him, she realised he was smiling.

  ‘Come on, now, they must have the wrong person. You have to laugh. They either sent you the wrong letter or, horror of horrors, there are two Liberty Jameses out there. So don’t panic. Think reasonably. There must be a mistake. We will clear it up on Monday.’

  Liberty felt reassured by the use of the word ‘we’, and started to calm down.

  ‘I could do with a day off,’ said Edmund. ‘Let’s go to your solicitor together and ask him to phone the council.’

  ‘What if it gets into the local press before I’ve even opened?’ asked Liberty, panic rising again. ‘“Ex-con to open tea rooms in idyllic village.” Oh cripes.’

  ‘Come on,’ said Edmund for a second time, but very gently. ‘First of all, who would release that to the press, and secondly, why would they? This area is screaming out for a decent place to meet and eat. Tell you what. On Monday we will contact the local rags, get them to do a piece on you and your plans, then put a bit of advertising their way before you open. How long to go?’

  ‘Only eight weeks, so it’s probably a good idea. That may well stir up some interest. Mother was just telling me that I need to publicise my opening.’

  ‘I will contact Gray by email tomorrow,’ Edmund reassured her. ‘He had lots of friendly contacts in the local papers. Don’t forget, they gave very fair comments when the national red tops were hounding him.’

  ‘Oh, would you?’ Liberty breathed a little easier. ‘You are clever to think of that.’

  Edmund thought his chest would explode. After weeks of feeling utterly useless on the estate, a tiny compliment made him feel like a king.

  ‘Right,’ he said briskly, to cover his emotions. ‘You get some sleep. Don’t forget you need to face your parents in the morning. Come for a ride in the afternoon – that might help clear your mind and blow a few cobwebs away, and you can fill me in.’ At Liberty’s bemused look, he said, ‘I’m meant to keep abreast of all comings and goings in the village!’ He did not include that he wanted to make sure she was all right.

  ‘Thank you for everything,’ said Liberty as they walked to the door. ‘Supper was lovely and I feel terrible to burden you with all my rubbish. I haven’t even asked you about the estate and how you are doing. You must think me horrible. I shall make you a deal. Tomorrow, we will talk about your life and how miserable that is, and I will bring lunch.’

  Edmund burst out laughing. ‘Thanks,’ he said ironically.

  ‘Well, you know what I meant,’ said Liberty, blushing. ‘My crappy life – at least pretend you are having a tough time too!’

  They kissed, quickly and formally on both cheeks. Both felt the fire running through their bodies and, ignoring the magnetic pull, leapt apart as if forced to do so. As Edmund walked purposefully down her garden path back to his car, Liberty allowed herself to think, You have made the day bearable. Thank you.

  As she brushed her teeth and washed her face again, she still basked in the warmth and strength of Edmund’s words and body. Please let tomorrow bring answers, and less parental flesh! Turning the lights off, and once again mentally thanking J-T for putting all the side lights on composite wall switches, she let her mind drift over the day’s events: criminal record, Percy having a baby, Mummy and Daddy playing happy families. Will I ever sleep? She curled up under the duvet, the full moon shining on her bed, and for once allowed Teal to jump up and curl up next to her. I’m sure things could be worse, she reflected, thinking about Gray in Bangladesh and Savannah possibly imprisoned in Abu Dhabi.

  40

  After a wretched night’s sleep, Liberty rose early, determined things could only get better, and took Teal out for some air. The morning was glorious and, unable to resist its charms, she set off for a romp over the frozen fields of Denhelm, carrying Teal most of the way as she was a little too young to be walking so far. A silhouette in the distance looked handsomely familiar and she made a direct line for the well-muffled Edmund, wondering what he was up to. Reaching him, she shielded the little dog’s ears from his expletives.

  ‘Edmund?’ said Liberty tentatively. Edmund dropped the long rod he was shoving down a manhole while swearing like a trooper, and said further loud and very rude words again as the rod disappeared into the murk. Turning to face her, his stormy face broke into a huge smile.

  ‘Morning! And you thought you had trouble!’ he said with another ear-to-ear grin. ‘The pipes have all backed up, probably frozen somewhere, and the kitchen smells like something the dog wouldn’t bring in. I had to forcibly remove Mrs Goodman as even if she could cook breakfast in there, I certainly wouldn’t be able to keep it down!’

  ‘How and why are you so cheerful, then?’ asked Liberty, bemused to see the normally solemn-faced Edmund so happy in adversity.

  ‘At least I feel useful, or I was, but now I seem to have made things worse and will have to call someone out. Bugger.’

  Desperate to keep the smile on Edmund’s face, Liberty asked him to join her for breakfast with Alain and Deirdre. ‘It would be lovely to have you there,’ she said meekly.

  ‘As a buffer between you and your apparently reconciled parents, you mean,’ said Edmund laughingly, but he agreed, and said he would be along when he had showered and changed.

  Edmund had been grinning for most of the night; even the stench in the kitchen hadn’t removed the silly expression from his face. Liberty had made him feel like a man again. She needed him, she trusted him, and after seeing her so vulnerable, he couldn’t imagine anything better in life than making sure nothing bad ever happened to her again.

  The winter sun shone through the large kitchen window as Liberty returned from walking across the frostbitten fields. Her cheeks were glowing from the cold air and from wondering what today would bring. She was thrilled that Edmund had agreed to come to breakfast. Despite his being able to guess why she had invited him, she hadn’t added that she loved having him around full stop.

  Liberty was in the mood for uplifting music and found Mozart’s ‘Piano Concerto No. 16’ on her iPod. She enjoyed the happy sound washing over her as she busied herself making potato pancakes, frying black pudding and apple, and slicing smoked eel to give to her parents. Then the phone rang. Oh, please don’t cancel on me, Edmund, thought Liberty as she reached for the receiver.

  ‘Hello, Liberty, it’s Percy.’ She almost dropped the receiver. How did he have her home number?

  ‘Hello,’ was all she could think of saying, all the previous joy instantly swept away. Why was he phoning?

  ‘Yes, look,’ barked Percy, ‘I think you will have heard already, but I thought I should tell you myself. Some silly bitch is claiming to be having my baby. All bloody awkward as it’s Hugh Cyril’s wife.’

  Liberty baulked and her stomach clenched, horrified to be reminded of how he spoke of people. She had met the quietly spoken yet attractive Hugh at the bank, and his wife at several parties. She had been a bit of a social climber, but pleasant enough.

  ‘Oh, do you mean Georgina?’

  Obviously surprised that Liberty remembered her name, Percy was quiet for a moment. ‘Um, humph, yes, her. Anyway, don’t put too much thought into it, it’s a load of tosh. She just thought I was an easy target when Hugh threw her out and refused to pay her maintenance.
’

  Liberty couldn’t imagine kind Hugh throwing anyone out of his house, except perhaps the former chancellor, for whom he had an unreasonable hatred, or maybe a hatred of having to advise him financially during his time in high office.

  ‘Right,’ she said, not sure how to continue. Did she believe him? Did it matter? Then another thought crossed her mind.

  ‘Why did you phone now, I mean, today?’

  Long silence. ‘I just thought you would have heard by now. Do you think we should get divorce proceedings underway? Be good to have done with the whole shebang. Bye now.’ And with that the phone went dead.

  Liberty was gazing at the receiver in her hand when she realised the black pudding needed turning and she hadn’t put the coffee on. She resisted the urge to cry, as that wouldn’t sort out anything. She had so many questions, but she needed to try to be cheerful for her parents so she pushed Percy, divorce and his sorry mess to the back of her mind.

  ‘Morning, darling!’ Two cheery voices floated through the kitchen window. Other than in commercial kitchens, Liberty hated extractor fans, and had opened the window to try to vent some frying smells into the frosty air.

  ‘I’ll just come and open the door,’ she shouted. Dijon and Custard limped and flew in to greet little Teal, then Custard raced around the kitchen to check in case Liberty had left piles of sausages on the floor.

  Deirdre and Alain were gazing at each other and looking like a couple of teenage lovers, which made Liberty forget all about Percy and feel sick instead.

  ‘Oh, yuck,’ she said, ‘now I feel like a child embarrassed at my own parents. Sit on opposite sides of the table, and I’ll pour coffee.’

  ‘Oh, we brought champagne, and sloes left over from the gin. Let’s have a cocktail – it’s time to celebrate!’ said Deirdre. Alain was grinning like a schoolboy but saying nothing.