The Sweetness of Liberty James (46 page)

Waiters in long white drill aprons took orders and managed to complete a merry dance between the tightly packed tables, serving efficiently and subtly. It was the kind of restaurant where most people had a regular lunch table, but tourists who had heard of its reputation were also eagerly welcomed, despite an eyebrow being raised towards jeans and trainers. They were simply placed away from established clientele and once seated the tablecloths rendered their indiscretions barely visible.

J-T and Liberty were given a table for two in the window. Once each held a glass of Montrachet and had ordered – oysters Rockefeller for J-T followed by rib-eye and chips, venison carpaccio for Liberty followed, disloyally, by teal in a crayfish sauce – Liberty repeated, ‘Come on, now. What gossip?'

‘It came from Bob, and as you know, he doesn't ever pass on gossip unless it's true.'

J-T was reddening under Liberty's gaze.

‘Go on,' she insisted. ‘I'm waiting.'

‘Um, well, he heard that the wife of a crony of Percy's was expecting a baby.'

‘So?'

‘Well, um, her husband is well past sixty, and it has been sort of known for some time that Percy has been seen with this lady in, um, well, hotels, sort of thing.'

Liberty's eyes grew ever wider.

‘It's his baby?'

J-T was quiet for a few moments. ‘It's just gossip, that's all. I don't know any more than that.'

‘But who is she?'

‘You will have to ask Percy. I just didn't want you popping over to your old place in case she was there or Percy was decorating the nursery.' J-T had meant this as a joke – he couldn't imagine anyone less able to pick up a paintbrush than Percy – but one look at his friend's face told him he had put his perfectly shod foot straight in his mouth. Liberty took a large gulp of wine and waited to feel shock, anger, jealousy or any other emotion.

‘Don't tell me your sense of taste has gone again,' jested J-T, still trying to lighten the mood. ‘Bad timing would be just the start of it.'

‘No,' replied Liberty, ‘I just feel sad.'

She found, when her venison arrived, that she had lost her appetite.

Liberty excused herself and almost ran to the ladies', knocking chairs and waiters out of her way in her haste to get there before she broke down. Slamming the door of the cubicle in an unusual display of anger, she sat on the loo seat and burst into great anguished, wretched tears. She felt sick. Her heart was pounding and it took her a while, between sobs, to realize there was also a pounding on the door. Her friend was worried for her.

‘Darling girl,' called J-T's voice, ‘I'm guessing that's you in there as the news I just gave you couldn't have turned you into the pinch-faced witch crossing her legs out here.' Liberty gasped with shock at her friend's outrageous comment as she heard the outer door slam, but she stopped crying, came out, and allowed J-T to take her in his arms and comfort her.

‘I'm sorry, darling,' said J-T, all contrite. ‘I shouldn't have said anything.'

‘It was a shock, that's all,' said Liberty, trying desperately to pull herself together. Her mother had only just told her that if her night terrors had continued she would not have let her leave The Nuttery. Looks as though they would be returning!

‘I don't think I will see Percy after all,' she announced in a small voice, as she let J-T wipe her face and blow her nose like a small child.

‘Good idea,' he said as he led her back into the dining room, grinning like the Cheshire cat at the pinch-faced witch, who had either wet herself or used the gents'.

‘I shouldn't be surprised, I suppose,' said Liberty back at the table before downing a fresh glass of wine. ‘It's really no business of mine.' And she drained J-T's glass. ‘Let's change the subject. You asked how Gray was.' And she started to ramble
on, filling him in with news of his trip to Abu Dhabi and his impending work in Bangladesh.

J-T watched his friend's beautiful face. The sadness once so prevalent in her eyes had returned, and he felt a pig to have put it there. He was aware she longed for her own baby, but he couldn't let her go to her former home and have the shock of her life. Now he felt horrible and wanted to make it up to her.

‘Look, you are not eating, and much more of that wine on an empty stomach will make you go all silly. I would have to join in, and then we would end up in a bar until two in the morning and I will get into trouble and no one wants that to happen . . . again. So I'm going to get the bill and then take you on a gastro tour of the patisseries around here, maybe give you some ideas for your place and tempt your appetite back.'

Liberty looked relieved, and gratefully took J-T's proffered hand. He paid the bill quickly, and scribbled a note down on one of his business cards, throwing it down on pinch-faced witch's table as they left.

‘What did you say?' asked Liberty.

‘Sorry,' was all J-T answered as he dragged her off, his infectious giggling cheering her up.

Three hours later, and with a notebook covered with scribbling about the benefits of over-cooking pastry so it stayed crisp, and lining pastry cases so they stayed crisp, the need for soya milk and fructose for coffee and tea service and the idea of soft amaretti freshly made each day with sour cherries or candied peel instead of a chocolate to go with an after lunch espresso, Liberty felt both better and hungry again.

They bought strawberry tarts and coffee eclairs from the patisserie close to J-T's house. Noting Liberty's interest, the owner, who had inherited the place from his parents and loved his work, advised, ‘A touch of gelatin in the crème pâtissière makes it hold better in the millefeuilles.'

So the day had not been wasted.

‘Thank you, my good friend,' said Liberty, feeling satisfied
and happy. ‘I shall go home, call on Mummy and phone Percy from there with her to support me. By the way, what did you really put in that note?'

J-T got the giggles again. ‘I wrote, if she ever needed to sit on the loo crying her eyes out, I hoped the girl outside wouldn't be sighing and checking her manicure and might actually care about another human being.' Liberty smiled sadly at him and told him he had spent too much time in the country.

‘I remember crying my eyes out in lots of loos all over the city after doing pregnancy tests. I was never asked if I was OK. Not once.'

They hugged for a long time, then kissed as they realised they would miss each other. J-T surprised her by asking after Edmund.

‘Oh, well, I think. Sweet man,' was Liberty's reply, and with that she scooped up Teal and left her friend standing on the street with his two dogs yapping a goodbye, pleased to be rid of the young pretender. J-T's mouth was wide open.

‘By God, boys,' he said to the loud-mouthed canines. ‘She's going to be all right after all. The girl is in love!' With that he punched the air, looked around, checking no one had witnessed the very un-gay behaviour, and went inside to find Bob.

39

Liberty drove home carefully, mindful of the wine at lunch and her complete confusion over Percy.
He hadn't not wanted children; he just hadn't wanted children with me!
had been Liberty's first reaction. But now, after time to think, she realised she was jumping to conclusions. Was this woman pregnant at all? Or was it just gossip? She was aware that Percy had been attracting a fair amount of attention since his promotion; he seemed to be spending more time out of the office than in it, and the financial papers had been giving him a roasting because of it. Maybe the rumour of a baby was just to discredit him? It was all so difficult. If only Liberty had some facts, she could confront him, but all she had was a bit of gossip and an idea of who the other woman could be. She needed to chat with her mother. She tried to call, but there was no answer.

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.'