The Sweetness of Liberty James

by Janey Lewis

  Liberty felt her stomach drop down to her feet. ‘I just don’t understand. Why would he do that? I thought he had moved on – he’s barely been in contact, for heaven’s sake! He’s got someone else, even had a child . . .’

  ‘We think he is still angry that you left him, and that he can’t bear to lose control over you, and so he is trying to make sure your future gets nowhere,’ Edmund continued, hating each blow he was dealing her, but knowing it was best out in the open. ‘I have people looking into it. The listening devices are evidence, and the document that was forged for him was done by a solicitor friend who thought it was a joke, something to hang on your wall. Now, of course, he is fearful for his job, so is ready to spill the beans to the police. He has already written to the licensing board to retract the statement, and will cooperate fully.’

  ‘What is his name?’ asked Liberty.

  ‘Colin Aurmry,’ replied Edmund, looking at a small black notebook in front of him.

  ‘Colin! But I spent hours sitting next to that boring little man at dinner parties making polite conversation! I would have considered him an acquaintance!’ Liberty was aghast.

  ‘It seems that as soon as he knew it was being used against you, he was very keen to right the wrong, but he must at the very least be a complete idiot not to have worked out what Percy was up to.’

  ‘What do I do?’ Liberty looked at the three anxious pairs of eyes on her. ‘No one will come to the fete now, and all the villagers are going to be so angry to be dragged into this. Why did he have to call them ugly?’

  ‘Horrid abuse, and incorrect, for the most part,’ said Deirdre. ‘Your father pointed out to me that he didn’t manage to criticise your food, which would have been a lie, so he found criticism elsewhere – the people, the surroundings and your house. He probably saw Miss Scally leave work. He even makes the fact that you are beautiful sound like a fault.’

  ‘Don’t forget, any publicity is good publicity,’ Alain piped up.

  ‘That is what J-T said. But it’s SO public, and I do think the people around here will take it personally.’

  ‘Don’t believe it for one second,’ said Alain, shaking his head. ‘People in this area of England are made of strong stuff. They will turn up to prove to the world they are civilised enough to enjoy small portions, and put on their make-up. And, of course, mostly to eat free food and enjoy a fete that someone else is paying for and putting on! I can guarantee it. Free food is a bigger pull than you could ever imagine.

  ‘We bumped into Dilys on the way over. She was thrilled the pub was mentioned in the article, and is going to make some of her lethal punch to serve in the evening. She has been on to the local brewery to supply all we will need for the day. The cider chaps from Shepherd’s Farm have already spoken to Edmund about putting up a tent. So, you see? It’s only going to be good for you. What we need to know now, is what are we going to do about Percy?’

  Liberty sat down at last, but was shaking. Deirdre put her arms around her and told Alain to make more coffee. Liberty looked up at the anxious faces. ‘Did I tell you about the time J-T and I went to the mews to collect my belongings, and Percy had set up a device to let him see what went on inside the house? I wondered then if he had watched too many late-night films. He must be spending a fortune on Spymaster, or wherever he’s getting his gear. I didn’t even know he could use a smartphone on his own. He used to get his secretary to work it for him!’ They all laughed at this, pleased she was calming down.

  Alain filled in some gaps. ‘He must have had help. According to Edmund’s research, he denied the child was his, and so far has refused a paternity test. Georgina has been welcomed back by her cuckolded husband Hugh, who seems to be treating the child as his own. He has quit working at the bank, and is slandering Percy to anyone who will listen, saying Percy had practically given up going to the office, and that although he is supposed to be caring for his father he is travelling, spending money, gambling – you name it! Percy’s parents are not amused, and are threatening to cut him out of their will and sign over their house to the National Trust. Although, I am sorry to say, the NT have informed them that it’s just another pile of no outstanding public interest, so they are not keen!’

  ‘Oh, poor Cecil and Isabelle! I must write to them,’ said Liberty. ‘I feel awful. This is all my doing.’

  Deirdre took her hand and said, ‘It’s your charming nature to take all the blame. But there is only one person at fault here, let’s remember that. And it’s not you.’

  Liberty’s parents suggested she join them for lunch, but she needed to think, and sit quietly on her own. Edmund was somewhat miffed that she didn’t appreciate his efforts in collecting all the information. He followed Alain and Deirdre to the door, but just as he was about to leave, Liberty put a hand on his sleeve and asked if he could stay for a bit.

  ‘Certainly, I can,’ he replied, feeling his heart sing again.

  ‘I just want to thank you. You have been amazing through all of this, and a true friend. Thank you for finding all those horrid things. Do you think they got them all?’ She was a little embarrassed at feeling so weak, but it had sullied her home, her haven of peace. It was another part of her life with Percy that was not as she had thought. She was thinking all this while looking up at Edmund’s dark, strong, hawk-like face, hoping perhaps he would say she could be more than a friend, or would she just run to the church right now and marry him, or suggest travelling round the world shagging for England and forgetting all these silly people. But he simply looked at her, kissed her on the cheek, said, ‘It’s been a pleasure to help, my dear,’ and left her alone.

  Edmund sang a little song as he walked back to his car, his lips burning from kissing her winsome face. Once driving home, however, his face turned to steel and his shoulders clenched with anger. Now to deal with Percy.

  50

  Liberty phoned J-T and started to tell him the unbelievable news that Percy had been trying to sabotage her, when he stopped her mid-flow.

  ‘Darling, stop. Take a breath and sit down.’ He could picture her face as he heard her gulp for air, and imagined her plopping down into one of her overstuffed chairs, quizzical expression on her face and Teal at her feet. He told her that Edmund had given him full details of Percy’s revenge already. When Liberty huffed that it was up to her who should know, J-T said, ‘Edmund realised it was Percy who encouraged the photographer to get the picture of me and Gray, probably to discredit both of us because we are your friends. My dear, we didn’t realise he was so very pissed off, as you hadn’t heard from him at all – no solicitor’s letters, nothing. This was his plan: to destroy your future if it didn’t include him! I can’t believe it was he who nearly ruined things between Bob and me. He always claimed to be our friend too, don’t forget, and as far as I know, Gray hasn’t even met the man! Although, I suppose the fault was mine, as I was the one in the photograph doing the business.’

  ‘Yeeees, quite!’ Liberty said with a giggle, pleased to feel a little relief. But then she remembered Percy’s horrible words whenever she had managed to get him to have the pair to supper after they were married. ‘Bloody poofs’ and ‘silly fags’ were only two of the unpleasant phrases he reserved for them. J-T was the only friend who had stuck by her when Percy was doing his best to rid her of old acquaintances. J-T, unlike her other friends, was not intimidated by the bully. But she didn’t want to hurt her friend any more by telling him what Percy had said.

  ‘Bob seems to have taken the news that Percy was behind all of this to mean I’m off the hook completely. He is back to his old warm self, and even treating me as though it wasn’t my fault. Although, of course it was. He even agreed to come to your fete with me after I told him Gray wouldn’t be there. Can we stay at your place, with the dogs? You wouldn’t believe the fancy dress costumes I’ve got for them!’

  Sadly, I probably can, thought Liberty, picturing the two French bulldogs in tutus or worse, but she was thrilled the men would be ther
e to support her. ‘I will prepare your rooms, sir!’ she said with a laugh. He always made her feel good about herself, and she knew that his presence, along with calm, solid Bob, would be good for her nerves on the day. They said their goodbyes, with J-T promising lots of decorations for the fete.

  ‘Don’t forget, I have a showroom full of things, and lots of favours I can pull in. Leave it to me to show you at your best!’

  Liberty felt much better, if still a little odd, knowing that Percy or someone attached to him had been in her house. To comfort herself, she decided to cook, which was lucky as she realised she was ravenous. She rootled around in the fridge till she emerged with the makings of a warm walnut-crusted goat’s cheese salad.

  Thus restored, she sat down to write a lengthy letter to Percy’s parents, saying how sorry she was if she had been to blame for Percy going off the rails, and could she help in any way? She also wrote that she was sorry for not visiting them, but had felt unsure of her welcome, and that she hoped Cecil was recovering. She reminded them of her warm feelings towards them both. She felt a horrible gut-twisting sensation, hating the thought of the two kind, generous, warm-hearted people she looked upon as family being hurt and troubled because of her actions.

  She then wrote to Georgina, the woman reported to have had Percy’s baby. She had never warmed to the glamorous, bosomy wife of Hugh Cyril, a little too socially ambitious to be a true friend, but felt terrible that Percy had denied the baby was his and had now dropped her. Liberty was, in a strange way, curious to meet the baby that could have been hers. Of course she didn’t express that feeling, but casually wrote that if she and Hugh were ever in the area they would be welcome at her home.

  After a long bath and a wander round the garden, pruning and deadheading early daffodils, Liberty suddenly realised how wrapped up in herself she was being. She hadn’t even asked her parents when they were getting married.

  ‘Goodness, they must think me terrible!’ And without turning the key in the newly fitted locks, she shot across the green, Teal trotting by her heels.

  She let herself in and yelled a loud ‘Hello!’ as she didn’t want to interrupt anything she shouldn’t see. In the kitchen, Deirdre and Sarah were clearing dishes.

  ‘Goodness, darling! You look flustered, although I’m not surprised. What’s the rush? Someone been to your home again?’

  Bugger, thought Liberty, didn’t even shut the door. But she asked where Alain was to distract her mother from this fact.

  ‘Daddy has at last managed to leave me alone for two minutes and remember he still has a restaurant to run. He’s gone to see how things have been going at the hotel without him,’ said Deirdre, smiling as she remembered pushing him out of the door. When they were first married, she would have had to lock him in a cage to stop him going to work. ‘He’s taken Clarence down for a month’s work experience. Once we got him to admit he had sold the first edition of Larousse Gastronomique I gave him to pay the rent on his mother’s cottage (Edmund told us he’d refused to accept the book as payment), Daddy decided to give him a job. He really thinks the lad has talent!’

  ‘Great,’ said Liberty. ‘I am so pleased things might work out for him. Daddy must think he’s good if he is willing to put him to work in his own kitchen. But Mummy–’ Liberty went over to her mother and gave the surprised and pleased woman a hug ‘–how are things going between you and Daddy? I feel awful, I should have been asking about your wedding plans and listening to you going on about new-found love; instead, you have had to cope with all my dramas. Tell me all.’

  ‘Oh, my sweet, we wanted to help you get up and running before planning anything, mostly because we would want you to help with our wedding. Don’t worry, we aren’t going to dress you up in a ghastly bridesmaid’s dress, but would love for you to be part of the day. Daddy thought we ought to use his yacht for the honeymoon, but between you and me, I feel a little uncomfortable celebrating my wedding by sleeping on a bed that has supported so many other women! Dear that he is, he loves his boat, and it would be fun to sail round the Med, end up at Paloma’s for a few days and see little Yves, but I think I would feel a little second-hand, if you know what I mean.’

  ‘Mmm, I do. You would spend the whole trip wondering who had been there and done that before – not ideal on honeymoon. Why don’t you use one of the other berths?’

  ‘Because I would have to give my reasoning to your father, and he might sell the boat, which would in turn make me miserable, knowing what it means to him. He loves it; it allowed him the freedom he lacked so much of the time, being tied to his kitchen. He had always dreamed of owning one of the luxury yachts that he would watch cruising along the coast when he was working in kitchens in the south of France as a young man. When he visited his accountant to discuss one of his divorce settlements, his accountant said it was a good way of buying and owning something abroad, therefore untouchable if done in the correct way. It gave him the excuse he had always wanted. Named it after you, of course. I was so angry at the time, but now I see how much it means and I would feel weak and pathetic telling him my reason for not wanting to use Liberty Belle. It might put a wall up between us.’

  ‘Well, maybe just suggest you redo the interior of the boat before the honeymoon. It is all quite dated, very chintzy, and you could commission a new bed at the same time? Say it’s your wedding present to him. He could even design a galley that suits him better than the little one there is at the moment. Make it about him, rather than about you!’

  ‘Great idea, darling,’ said Deirdre, smiling. ‘Has J-T ever done a boat?’

  ‘Not that I know of, but hell, he would surely love the challenge!’

  They poured coffees and sat companionably at the kitchen table when Sarah left.

  ‘What about the service?’ asked Liberty. ‘I’m sure our vicar is modern enough to marry you, despite it being your second, especially as you are marrying the same person! Or do you intend to have a civil ceremony?’

  ‘Daddy thought we might have an engagement party at The Dark Horse as a combined closing do, and just ask a few friends and family to a church service before a quiet lunch here. We should invite Leah but I’m not sure her mother will allow her to come. Apparently, Genevieve has now had so much plastic surgery she can’t open her mouth far enough to eat properly, but that is simply bitchy gossip, and I’m not like that, am I?’ said Deirdre with a twinkle in her eye. ‘Talking about weddings, have you decided what to do about Percy? He must know you have found the listening devices. And did you contact the Cholmondly-Radleys?’

  ‘I have written to them, and Mrs Stickybunns keeps me up to date in her letters. She says Mr CR is doing well, his carers have left and they have even been on holiday. I feel so awful for them. The strange thing is that Percy always felt such responsibility to the family. He was proud of their coat of arms, history and so on. It’s so odd that he now seems to have gone off the rails at his age. There was a piece in The Mail that Mrs Stickybunns sent me, reporting on Percy gambling all night in Monte Carlo. He had announced that the first twenty females to apply, if they were attractive enough, could join him on a private jet to fly to Sun City in South Africa, or Sin City as he called it, for a night of gambling and partying. I can’t imagine what sorrow that must be causing his parents.’

  ‘Sounds as though he’s having far too much fun at other people’s expense. I’ve never been averse to the finer things in life, but when they are just frivolous and wasteful it’s horrid. Isn’t there anything you can do to rein him in? Vandalise something he really cares about? His car, perhaps?’

  ‘Mother! I didn’t know you could be so vindictive, or have such violent thoughts! No, we can’t do anything like that, and no, he’s never really been passionate about anything at all, apart from his art collection, which I have no claim over.’

  Deirdre looked amazed. ‘Of course you do! You are married to the man. You could apply for divorce and ask for all the artwork, then when the courts are about to give th
em to you, you could say to Percy that he could keep them if he treats his family better and goes back to the bank!’ Deirdre was thrilled with her idea.

  Liberty looked at her mother sternly. ‘Even in your and Daddy’s worst days of divorce, would you have asked for his restaurant?’

  Deirdre’s mouth flapped unbecomingly.

  ‘No, I thought not, and I couldn’t. It wouldn’t sit right on my conscience, so get that out of your mind. Imagine if he said fine? I would end up looking at reminders of my life with him! Believe me, it’s bad enough that he’s been in my home. I don’t want to decorate it with things he loved more than me!’

  Deirdre privately thought that she could sell them and reap the rewards, but kept shtum, proud that she had brought her daughter up to be of such good character. Out loud, she said, ‘I think it’s more to do with investing and making a profit, but good for you, although keep the idea under your hat. Knowing you as I do, you care about Cecil and Isabelle a great deal, and you may need to help them before he lets the bank collapse.’

  ‘Ah, well, I’m sure we can think up some ruse. Do his parents know about the baby? That could create quite a stir, if we knew it was a boy – first born son and heir, and so on.’

  Liberty didn’t want to dwell on Percy any longer. The last twenty-four hours had made her feel as though he was back in her life, and in a way he was, and always had been; she needed to end that. Talk of divorce made her think she should either sign the papers Percy had sent her, and which had languished under her bed for weeks, or get her papers drawn up to sue him instead. It would be the only way she could feel free, and she wasn’t sure why she had been holding off, apart from fear of hurting Isabelle, who had so dearly wished they could work things out. By now she was probably aware that Liberty couldn’t live with her son anymore. When she had written to her in-laws, she had told them of the fete and the opening two days later, and hoped they might be able to spare some time and come and see what she was up to.