The Sweetness of Liberty James (19 page)

Savannah and Liberty had been sent to different schools. The parents had got together and deliberately decided on that. The children were devastated; Liberty, because her parents were in the process of separating and she felt lonely enough; Savannah, because, deprived of both her family and her best friend, she felt horribly restricted by school, and imprisoned without a huge estate to run about in. School in the centre of town, even one as smart as Cheltenham, was no substitute for freedom and friends. She rebelled and was expelled pretty quickly. Liberty had heard little of her since she was sent to Switzerland after eight English schools had done what they could. She had read in
Tatler
of the forthcoming third marriage of Savannah, who had become a society beauty, to a Middle-Eastern sheik, but had no idea whether this had taken place.

Edmund had gone into the City. His desire to solve the energy problems of the world, along with inner city poverty, took him successfully into venture capitalism. Grahame went into politics, where his good looks and charm made him incredibly successful with both his constituents and fellow MPs. He said what he thought, and didn't care about upsetting the apple cart. A people's politician.

‘Come back to the kitchen while I say goodbye to Sarah,' said Deirdre to her daughter. ‘Anyway, we have to make something to eat.'

They took their empty glasses through.

‘How is Jonathan?' asked Liberty.

‘Oh, just the same as ever – out hunting at every opportunity, keeps himself busy with the estate. I'll call him before his morning ride. When I heard him mention the other day that one of his tenants was thinking of leaving, I'm sure it was the tea rooms!'

‘That would be too strange a coincidence – almost fate! It couldn't be true that I could start my café right here, could it?' Liberty paused for a moment before saying, ‘Why haven't you mentioned Percy yet?'

‘Haven't I? We need to eat, but before that, more drinks. Come through to the kitchen. Oh, Sarah, are you still here?'

‘I just thought I would wash the floor before I left.'

‘Go on, you, get off home. I'll pop in and see you tomorrow.'

As Sarah closed the outer door, Deirdre said, ‘Marriage problems,' to Liberty by way of explanation. ‘Her husband is sleeping with Dilys, the publican. All the village seems to know about it, and Sarah was the last to find out, so now she hates going home, knowing he is at the pub flirting in front of everyone and making a fool of her while she minds the children.'

‘Why doesn't she leave him?'

‘Can't afford it. And anyway, they have two little ones,' said Deirdre as she threw two duck breasts, which had been marinating in salt, thyme and juniper, into a cold pan to render the fat slowly. ‘Make a salad with the leaves you'll find in the fridge.'

Liberty looked in the fridge and found a bowl of squash roasted with garlic and rosemary, some toasted walnuts and some winter leaves with spinach.
That will do
, she thought. She put everything on the table and mixed a vinaigrette with walnut oil and red wine vinegar. Deirdre, more anxious than she wanted to appear, poured them glasses of claret and lit a cigarette. Then she leaned against the Aga and looked Liberty in the eye.

‘While the duck rests you can have my thoughts, but as a
mother it's as simple as this. If you are happier without him, then I am happy for you. If you think you have rushed out of the marriage, then maybe think before you go to a solicitor.'

‘That's it?' asked Liberty.

‘What else do you want me to say? I love you and only wish you to be happy.'

‘I expected you to say you hate him and he never deserved me, like Daddy did.'

‘But darling, that would only make you feel stupid. After all, you did marry him, and you were choosing at that time to spend the rest of your life with him, and to have babies with a man too pompous to be true, a big bully with red cheeks and too much aftershave, who was rude to your poor mother the first time he walked through my front door and after a few drinks rude to just about everyone.'

‘OK, OK,' said Liberty, laughing, ‘that sounds more like you.'

‘I'm sorry, I really am. I am desperately trying not to say everything I am thinking, as you may yet get back with him, and then you would hate me for what I said, and we wouldn't be friends any longer.'

They embraced, and after a delicious meal felt as though they understood one another very well.

They enjoyed a light as air apple tart with thick Jersey cream, then sat back in the sitting room sipping coffee, while the dogs snored in front of the fire. Finally, exhausted, Deirdre apologised, saying she had recorded the final episode of
The Apprentice
and was going to watch it in bed.

‘Tomorrow we will start the search for your café. Breakfast at eight o'clock prompt.'

16

The following morning Liberty woke at six thirty to the intense smell of orange, cloves and cinnamon. Mmm, happiness was being at home. She dressed quickly and went downstairs. The dogs were lying treacherously in front of the Aga while Deirdre coated orange and lemon peels with hot sugar syrup and hung them on pegs on a string along the heavy stone mantel above the stove.

‘Morning, darling, help yourself to coffee. Why are you up so early?'

‘I couldn't sleep any longer. Shall I take the dogs for a walk? I need some fresh air.'

She grabbed the leads, although neither dog was ever held by one, and started off down the garden and out through a back gate on to a permissive foot path that led through the Denhelm Estate.

As the dogs rootled along the hedgerows in the first light, setting up pheasants and rabbits, Liberty gazed at the beauty around her. She didn't notice the cold, only the rooks calling to one another, the mist rising and the trees shedding their leaves and showing off their figures in the early morning sunlight. In the distance she could make out three riders on horseback, galloping along the centre of a field.
Must be hard going
, she thought, and then realised a sort of gallop had been pressed like a wide footpath along the middle of the ploughed field. She watched as the able riders made it to a high hedge and sailed over easily, one by one. They were soon out of sight.
I must begin riding again if I am going to live back in the country
, she thought, and then
realised she would probably have no time to do anything like that if she ran her own business.
Am I doing the right thing?
she asked herself, and she carried on asking the same thing over and over as she walked for another hour.

‘God, the dogs look pissed off,' said Deirdre as she arrived back at the house. ‘Dijon hates the cold; it affects his arthritis, poor thing.' And she towelled the dogs off, then laid a blanket on the floor by the warm Aga. ‘You couldn't have lost either of them. Custard you can hear miles away, and Dijon never leaves your side these days, as I am sure you noticed. Where on earth did you get to?'

‘Sorry, Mother,' said Liberty, feeling chastised. The one thing that upset her mother was people not taking care of the dogs. ‘I was just thinking, and enjoying the fresh air. I forgot the time.'

‘Poor darlings,' Deirdre said, putting down a bowl of hot milk for Dijon and feeding him Liberty's bacon. ‘Far too crisp for her to eat now, anyway,' she told her dog. She lifted her head. ‘He's eighteen, you know, and he has been the best companion anyone could ask for.'

Liberty had been so caught up in her own thoughts, she only now realised her mother was actually crying.

‘Mummy, I didn't mean to upset you; he seemed to be enjoying the walk.'

Deirdre sniffed noisily and wiped her runny nose on a tea towel. ‘Oh, God, I am being so silly, but the vet said his arthritis was so bad and he is so old I should think about having him put to sleep! But he seems happy enough, and I don't think I could bear it, not yet.'

‘He IS happy, so change the bloody vet,' replied Liberty, hugging her mother. She knew it was the anniversary of the day her parents' divorce had finally come through, so she understood the over-the-top reaction. ‘Sit down while I make some toast.'

Over a pot of extremely strong coffee, some excellent marmalade (home-made, of course) and toasted brioche, Deirdre gradually felt better, and said she would phone Jonathan.

‘Have you any particular properties lined up through agents?' she asked.

‘Only two, both in Tunbridge Wells, and I know that's the wrong location. There are very good cafés there already, and as I said, the agents have been pretty dreadful. I had planned to see them today and gee them up a bit. I want a country location, really.'

‘Well, let's see Jonathan first, and then we can drive around the villages.'

Deirdre set up a meeting for ten o'clock that morning. ‘It's the old butcher's shop on the corner of the green,' she told Liberty after she came off the phone. The butcher had shut up shop years ago, and had been replaced by a delicatessen run by an elderly Italian couple who had now decided to retire. ‘I could have sworn he was talking about the tea rooms. No point you setting up next door to them,' said Deirdre. ‘Sorry, darling.'

‘Well, we could look anyway. Would it be big enough?'

‘Only one way to find out – and Jonathan would be a fabulous landlord, as he is only interested in what is good for the village. His rent will be very reasonable for the right tenant.'

Jonathan de Weatherby had set up a food hall on his estate. It was somewhere between an upmarket farm shop and a butcher's. It was run by a charming girl. It sold local produce, meat from the animals reared on the estate, game shot there and cheese made on site, and since the Italians had departed it also contained a new deli counter. They also had baked bread, but fortuitously for Liberty they had been forced to sack the baker for stealing, so were looking either for a new supplier, or a new baker. In the meantime, Deirdre told Liberty, she had been supplying them. ‘So you will be doing me out of business!'

The food hall had raised the profile of many local producers, who made small amounts of good quality produce, including many farmers and their families who had been forced to diversify after the foot and mouth trauma.

It was why Mr de Weatherby was such a popular landlord
and agent. He had helped many of his tenant farmers financially during the crisis, and had given a few of them loans to set up kitchens and had advised them on health and safety issues, and all the impossible paperwork.

The two women met Jonathan outside the old butcher's shop at ten on the dot. It was a beautiful, if cold, day. Low sunlight bounced off the red-brick building and the cottages surrounding the green, most of them constructed from the same brick, or weather-boarded. The sky-blue window frames of the houses owned by the estate gleamed with fresh paint, and all the front gardens looked as though they were waiting to take part in a competition (which took place in June, judged of course by Jonathan, along with the vicar's wife, who was in her late twenties and rather more interested in who was wearing what and flirting with Jonathan than boring gardens, but did her husband's bidding and tried very hard to be a good church wife).

The green had a small duck pond, which held an eclectic mix of Indian runners crossed with wild mallards. A young family in the village had raised a group of runners in their back garden, but the children had tormented them so much the sweet creatures decided to find friends and safety elsewhere and fled to the pond, and since then had raised many clutches of eggs.

The village shop and post office were next to the old butcher's, and on the other side was a dear little tea room, presently doing a roaring trade in morning tea and coffee, with people sitting in the window munching on delicious pastries baked by Deirdre.

Jonathan greeted them both warmly and for a while they chatted about their respective families and generally caught up with news. Deirdre told him about Sarah's terrible husband, and Liberty merely said she had decided to leave the rat race in London and change her career path. (She was fully aware her mother would have told him the real situation, but both she and Jonathan were sensible and sufficiently English to refrain from mentioning it.)

Liberty was also desperate to know how her old friend and Jonathan's daughter Savannah was, but they agreed it was far too cold to chat any longer outside; further news could wait.

As Jonathan unlocked the door and stepped through the large glass paned door, Liberty felt it was the perfect place for her. She already knew the location was good. The main road ran close enough to catch passing trade and the parking around the green was sufficient. The building was perfect. The main room, which would be the restaurant, was cluttered with a large deli counter, but was a great size for about ten small tables. Two bay windows looked out over the green, and as it faced south-west the room was flooded with natural light – maybe a problem in summer, but nothing shutters couldn't help with.

Liberty could imagine the flagstone floor covered in old heavy rugs (firmly stuck down so people didn't trip), a few leather armchairs and shelves full of teapots, jugs and cups and saucers, alongside displays of home-made jams, preserves and pickles. There was enough space for a bread basket display and a patisserie counter, and the little kitchen was a perfect site for fresh tarts, quiches and salads to be prepared. She was hoping that to start with she could bake most things in her mother's school kitchen, and then, if she found a house close enough, in her own, as most of the baking would have to be done early in the mornings to be cooled and ready for sale by nine o'clock.

‘If we moved this partition we could set up the coffee machine with a small counter from which to serve espressos. It would take up too much room in the kitchen,' mused Deirdre.

‘I love it,' said Liberty. ‘But what about the tea room next door? I can't imagine you would want me to take away their business, as they have been here for ages, and they look busy.'