The Sweetness of Liberty James (32 page)

‘Now, are you going to tell me about Jonathan, or do I have to use torture?'

Deirdre smiled as she put two mugs of cocoa on the table, adding hefty slugs of rum to them.

‘He is a dear friend, and for many years we have sort of hosted his parties together. After a few too many he gets a little wistful and starts looking at me with puppy dog eyes. I think that because the family are around, and the grandchildren, too, this year he is feeling a little more emotional than usual. Don't forget, his wife died on Christmas Eve so it's a tough time for him.'

Liberty knew this well, as Savannah had always held her birthday party on 24
^th
June. No one was allowed to mention so much as a happy birthday on Christmas Eve.

‘But I have to say I was shocked doubly this year. He has seemed so much more together, less lonely recently, and when he proposed to me in the library, I was taken aback. However, as I was giving my usual speech, letting him down gently, there was a cough from the wing chair by the fire. Edmund had been there the whole time, and heard everything. His father must be feeling embarrassed, that's the only explanation I can think of for his harsh words to Edmund. Normally you have to light a fire under the man to get him to criticise his children.'

‘Typical bloody reaction from Edmund. How dare he stay quiet and let you talk about something so personal?' huffed Liberty.

‘Darling, I think you will find he knows as well as I do that his father will never love anyone as much as Helena.'

‘But what about you? Do you love him? Jonathan, I mean of course. I didn't even know you had a relationship . . .'

‘We haven't, not that sort. It's all sort of unsaid and undone. It would ruin our friendship, and I really value that. Anyway,' said Deirdre, smiling, ‘I'm not sure I could bear to share my bed with anyone again, all that hair and toothpaste in the bathroom, and his house is so cold, and if I'm honest, there's no spark, it would be like sleeping with my teddy bear. Having sex with my teddy bear! That sounds wrong – come back J-T!' she yelled at the door. ‘I feel too drunk without you.'

‘I think there must be enough left of the night for a little beauty sleep before we head back to the park tomorrow,' Deirdre declared. ‘We should be planning our own Christmas feast, but there seem to be lots of undercurrents going on. Savannah doesn't look happy, for one thing. I think you may be in demand as an ear to bend, my dear. And I do believe we will find Jonathan looking rather relieved when we see him again.'

28

Liberty got up early. She was unable to sleep as she couldn't stop worrying about her mother. Did she love Jonathan or not? Did she really yearn to marry the charming gentleman with the perfect manners, and maybe refused him because she had to stay and look after her useless daughter who had returned home? And Savannah. She was clearly not happy, and although Liberty knew her well enough to understand anything could become a drama with her, she had gained the impression her oldest friend was intensely unhappy. Liberty decided to clear her head by taking the dogs out and then making breakfast for the two sleeping beauties, hoping they might be awake by the time she got back.

She headed downstairs to the kitchen and on the way switched on all the twinkly fairy lights strung around the house and on the Christmas tree. Liberty loved the days that ran up to Christmas almost more than the day itself; the anticipation and the fresh smell of pine around the house. Her mother refused to decorate more than a week before the big day, saying that, ‘If it's done too early, it loses its magic.' The first rays of the sun were sliding between the curtains and crisp frost on the lawn was sparkling as she drew them back. This was indeed why she loved living back in Littlehurst.

She knocked up a batch of bread dough from her mother's starter, kept alive in the fridge with frequent additions of rye flour and potato, then put bacon and sausages in the Aga to cook slowly, and hoped to find some field mushrooms on her walk that could line their stomachs ready for a busy day.

Custard snuffled happily along the hedgerows as she collected a few mushrooms clinging to life under the blackthorn, together with some rosemary that was just surviving. Dijon had stayed in the garden, unwilling to venture further in case his legs gave way. ‘You poor thing,' said Liberty sadly as she tickled him under the chin when she returned.

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?