The Sweetness of Liberty James (59 page)

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 them 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.

At eight o'clock, Liberty and Deirdre gave up waiting for Alain to return. ‘He is back where he belongs for the time being,' sighed the love-struck older woman. They shared a light supper, while Deirdre quizzed her daughter about preparations for the fete, reminding her, unnecessarily, that it was just around the corner.

Liberty was conquering her nerves by filling the freezer, checking for the umpteenth time that the little restaurant looked just perfect, cleaning it again and again until the windows shone, the china gleamed and the wooden tables developed an antique patina in days. She had ordered flowers from a local girl, and on J-T's suggestion put them in old jam jars decorated with different coloured ribbons. She had told him she needed a way of identifying tables for the benefit of the kitchen and this was his idea. So far she had not heard again from the council about her alcohol licence, but Edmund assured her it would be sorted out, and meanwhile she could charge corkage.

Unbeknown to Liberty, Paloma and Jonathan had asked Alain
if they could raid his cellar for bubbly. They would cover the cost and supply it without charge to customers on the opening day, to get everyone into the swing of things.

J-T arrived with Bob in tow, hugging a new addition: a cat.

‘Where are the dogs?' asked Liberty.

‘Oh, we had to leave them in the car. They hate her, but we adore her,' said Bob, cuddling the tiny furball. ‘A Silver Point Persian. Very rare, horribly expensive, and my anniversary present. But the dogs won't leave her alone, and then she scratches them. Twice in two weeks both dogs have had to visit the vet after Queenie scratched their eyes.'

‘Queenie? What a sweet name. Let me hold her, and then you can get the dogs out. Bring them round to the garden entrance.' Liberty giggled as she spied the car with a trailer attached to the back. ‘You didn't tell me you've turned into caravanners!' she exclaimed, examining the smart BMW SUV with an ancient Airstream lagging behind it.

‘Don't you laugh,' said Bob, wagging his finger at her. ‘Believe it or not, it's filled with all the props for your fair. We seem to have searched the entire south of England,' he insisted, looking fondly at J-T, so she understood immediately that J-T had been dragging poor Bob around for her fete. She thanked him and he demurred, continuing, ‘J-T and I remembered a holiday we had, invited by some generous clients to their estancia in Uruguay. They lived in Buenos Aires most of the time, and had the most amazing ranch where they kept their polo ponies close to Punta del Este. Lots of smart Argentineans decamp there for the summer. Anyway, while we were there, they invited us for a ride that ended in a picnic. Being Brits, we thought OK, dried sandwiches, and a plastic cup of warm wine if we were lucky . . .' Bob paused to avert an embarrassing incident between his dogs and a passing King Charles spaniel and its owner. He struggled to get the dogs under control and into the back garden.

‘Anyway, we turn up at this clearing after an hour too long on horseback.'

‘He means the ride took an hour,' put in J-T, joining them after returning the cat to its box.

‘An exterior room had been created. Hay bales covered with soft woollen blankets were laid out around kilim rugs. In the background were tall candelabras joined by ribbons and wrapped in greenery. A fire bowl was in the centre of the ‘room', and tables had been set here and there so you had somewhere to put your drink. That is where we had the idea of large woollen blankets held together with old polo knee guards. It keeps them looking neat until you need them, and there's a pile of them in the trailer. We asked friends at Windsor Great Park who work for some of the polo lot if they had any spare, and they were happy to give us some of their worn-out ones.

‘We figured you would have access to hay bales, but otherwise we've bought and borrowed everything. And we have brought reams of antique French linen to cover the trestle tables.'

Over the next few days, crowds of onlookers appeared on the green, excitedly noting the preparations for the fete. Judging by the number of well-groomed dogs being marched around it on leads, the dog show was going to be a big pull.

Dilys had told Liberty her punch was famous for getting everyone going, and as it was spring she was going to add extra cider. ‘I hope a few people will be capable of eating!' said Liberty. But she was pleased people hadn't taken against her after the
Telegraph
article. Fred the blacksmith had offered her his services, with a gleam in his eye, and Liberty had taken him up by asking for a loan of his hanging baskets on stands. These would frame the eating area, and she had planted them with winter pansies and trailing plants, praying for good weather and definitely no frost!

The only edible things in her garden were rosemary and thyme, so she was going to use those in some of the small tarts – seasoned bacon and fennel quiches, and some little cheese and herb choux buns. She was getting there, but would it all come together as she wanted?

51

The day of the fete had arrived at last. It was all hands on deck in Liberty's kitchen, as a bleary-eyed J-T and Bob passed the poor kitten back and forth to keep it out of the way of their dogs and from Liberty, who was struggling between her loyalty to her friends and an intense dislike of cats near food. Deirdre and Alain kept coffee flowing, and Liberty's ‘To Do' board now covered most of her already menu-covered walls, with post-it notes in different colours denoting who was to carry out which task. Deirdre frowned when she saw most were turquoise for Liberty, and caused chaos by changing them for others, which ended up with one job being carried out (on paper) by two people. ‘Well, at least it's getting done,' was all Deirdre said in her own defence when, in a fit of nerves and frustration, Liberty turned on her and accused her of muddling a day which needed no more muddling!