The Sweetness of Liberty James (25 page)

Liberty had received divorce papers. There was nothing nice about Percy now. He had requested a divorce on the grounds of her unreasonable behaviour, demanding that all property previously belonging to the Cholmondly-Radley family be returned. The only item she had of theirs was her engagement ring, but these papers would be in the public domain, and any nosy journalist prompted by Percy could gain the impression that Liberty had legged it with the family heirlooms.

Liberty just wanted it over so she could get on with her life. However, she didn't sign the papers; as much as she still blamed herself for bumbling into the unsuitable marriage, and felt guilty towards Percy for messing him and his family around, she didn't feel that she could end it now, for some reason. She tucked the papers under her bed, for want of a better place, to contemplate later. Her mother, curious at this response, imagined it was a head in the sand reaction, and that Liberty would work out what she wanted in her own time. Although some of Deirdre's concerns had been swept aside by Percy's lawyer's statement that, as Liberty was not claiming financial support from his client, his client would not seek likewise, she was terrified her daughter might decide to go back to her old life, but she kept her thoughts to herself.

Liberty had sent Mrs Stickybunns a birthday card and received the very sad news by way of a return note that Cecil was seriously ill with cancer and he and Isabelle had retreated to Anstley Hall in an attempt to cope with the horrors of chemotherapy through lots of fresh air. The dutiful son had not been seen, and Isabelle had been nursing Cecil on her own, refusing outside help as she knew her husband was too proud for that. Mrs Stickybunns wrote she was sure Mrs CR was doing too much, but for the time being they were coping and she would keep Liberty informed. She reassured Liberty that Isabelle still thought very fondly of
her daughter-in-law, and they would love to see her if she was ever passing.

Liberty had been putting off Deirdre's plans of a party, not feeling in a celebratory mood. She felt awful about Cecil, and not having heard about Duck End, the only positive note was that the tenancy agreement had been signed by her and Jonathan. The old butcher's was officially hers.

When Neville and Sabrina Smythe, the owners of Duck End, had suddenly returned to the village, Liberty thought it was to help the sale along, but they had simply come to supervise the removal of all their ghastly furniture. Zebra skins and gold urns were seen being loaded into the van, followed by the shiny new suits of armour and a full-sized stuffed bear which Liberty couldn't believe she had missed. At least there must be good storage, she giggled with Deirdre, as it had been hiding!

Sarah had in the meantime moved into The Nuttery. Deirdre had insisted on this when one evening Sarah had gone home only to find the house locked. She ran to the pub to see Tom her husband and Dilys the barmaid openly snogging. If Sarah hadn't minded this, Deirdre wouldn't have interfered, but she was distraught, as were the children, whose school friends were now singing songs about the lovers:

Tom and Dilys, in the hay

One kiss, two kisses; they'll be married by May.

It wasn't fair on the young children. So Sarah, Jack and Amber moved into spare rooms. Deirdre enjoyed the extra help and Liberty enjoyed the company of a young person. Sarah had great ideas for the café and was encouraging Liberty to forget about thoughts of European pastries and concentrate on old local recipes and tarts brought up to date.

‘It'll keep the locals happy, and don't forget the children. If you welcome families, your café will be full of grateful parents and their kids, eager not to battle over meal times at home.'

Liberty had almost resigned herself to not getting Duck End, and living above the shop, when she noticed the pretty cottage in
the property section of
Country Life
. Over a cup of coffee with Jonathan he explained that, despite his own encouragement and the estate agent's insistence that hers was a very good offer, the Smythes were being greedy, probably because they had spent such a huge amount of money on the property. They had employed a London firm of interior designers with exceptional talent who charged a fortune for recreating a perfect country home, replacing all the wattle and daub fronting the walls. This, by the time they had kitted out the kitchen, bathrooms and gym, had cost as much as the original house. Liberty was therefore holding out no hope, especially after Jonathan had used his star card and mentioned to Neville about his misdemeanour, only for Neville simply to roar with laughter.

‘My wife was also in the stable! You dirty bugger, didn't know you were into watching!' he said. And with that he laughed all the way back to London.

However, by the end of November the Smythes had obviously realised the housing market was as active as Ann Widdecombe on
Strictly
, and they reluctantly decided to accept Liberty's offer.

When the agent phoned with the good news, Liberty and Sarah danced round the kitchen. The dogs picked up the happiness vibes and trailed behind, expecting treats to follow. Dijon waddled, but he was dancing inside. Despite it being only ten o'clock in the morning, Deirdre opened a very special bottle of vintage champagne.

‘Mother! This is from your wedding! Thank you so much!' said Liberty as she gulped and enjoyed the fine bubbles and instant headiness the golden liquid gave her, something to do with the time of day and the adrenalin. ‘Wowee, my new home!'

Deirdre was thrilled to open the bottle she had originally been saving for her and Alain's fiftieth anniversary celebrations. Her own daughter in the village! She was happier than a dog with a bone.

Liberty surprised herself at how thrilled she was with the prospect of moving into the cottage. She promptly emailed J-T
and told him to drop everything and come and stay. She needed his eye and encouragement. ‘If I want to open the café early next year, I need to get the house sorted so I can concentrate fully on the business. J-T will help everything go smoothly and know where I can find the things I need.'

Her mother, who had simply gathered and inherited bits and bobs throughout her life, and if any space was left, filled it with flowers and dogs, couldn't quite understand why anyone might need help furnishing a home.

‘Don't forget,' said Liberty, ‘I'm starting with nothing. I really have to put all my efforts into the café. I don't need to be driving all over the country looking at duvets, fabrics and flooring.'

Sarah, who had been born in a two-up two-down which she shared not only with her parents but also, by the time she left to marry at seventeen, five brothers and sisters, thought it unimaginably grand to be able to summon help to decorate, and until Liberty explained about J-T, was wildly excited about a man coming to stay.

‘Well, at least it means I am over Tom!' she laughed. ‘I will miss you so much when you leave, Liberty.'

‘It's been great fun being back here for a while, and being so well looked after, but I will be only just across the green. And I hate to burst your bubble, but J-T is gayer than pink meringues.'

‘I will miss you too, of course,' added Deirdre, ‘and now you must let me get on with planning the party.'

Deirdre was an excellent party planner. In the days of helping Alain with publicity she had thrown some infamous dos, usually enlisting the help of her great pal Paloma, who knew everyone who was anyone. This was to be no exception. Despite Liberty's protestations that it was only to include the locals – ‘I need to know all the faces, friendly and unfriendly' – Deirdre also wanted it to be a celebration of Liberty's homecoming and new business and a huge excuse for opening up the house she had lived in alone for too many years, and which had for a few short weeks been filled again with laughter, noise and family. She also
knew that Liberty was going to need some national press interest to get newcomers coming to the café until it established its own reputation. Remembering how much Paloma had helped Liberty during the summer, and knowing her restaurant could be left in the capable hands of the manager Vevetine, she phoned her friend and got, instead, Claude. After a brief catch-up, she told him of her plan and Claude said Paloma would be thrilled to help. Could they come and stay the week before? It would be so good to see how Liberty was settling in, and to look round the café. He also had good news. His girlfriend Evangeline was pregnant and despite his almost hippy upbringing they would be getting married in the new year, so more reason for celebration! It was settled that the three of them would come to the party – the more Gallic glamour the better.

Meanwhile, Deirdre phoned Jonathan. She knew he was organising a hunt ball shortly before Christmas, and wondered whether her party should be held before or after that.

‘Why not as a New Year's bash?' he enquired. ‘Everyone wants something different. I only hope it isn't too late to organise marquees and so forth.'

‘And of course,' continued Deirdre, writing notes as she spoke, ‘you WILL persuade your three youngies to come along, won't you? Liberty would be so thrilled.'

‘It looks as though the entire tribe will be here for Christmas for the first time in years, so I will attempt to imprison them until after New Year's Eve. Anything else I can do?'

And so the party arrangements began.

22

J-T arrived to be greeted by a flurry of organising. Liberty had taken over her mother's morning room; recipes vied for space with lists of equipment ordered or needed, pictures of chairs, tables coming from auction rooms, piles of linen, samples for napkins and tablecloths.

Custard was using the latter as a makeshift bed and was delighted when J-T crouched down next to her to have a cuddle.

‘How adorable! And I thought Frenchies were the only dogs for me nowadays!' he spluttered, as Custard licked his face, ever hopeful for crumbs. ‘How's it all going?'

‘All organised,' said Liberty. ‘Café kitchen's being fitted as we speak, and my star of a carpenter has made a super job of the café itself. We will go and have a look with Mother after coffee. Come and see her, she will be so excited to have you here again.'

Deirdre was surrounded by even more pieces of paper. She was having a whale of a time in her office. ‘How I love parties!' she exclaimed to J-T.

‘And how simply divine to see you, Mother Deirdre. You are as glamorous as ever,' exclaimed J-T, giving lots of air kisses and a huge hug to his surrogate mother. (His parents had been less than thrilled at his coming out, so his university summers had been spent with Bob at The Nuttery, welcomed by Deirdre, who treated their boyish enthusiasm as she would a pair of Labrador puppies who would have made about as much mess, their sexual preference being of little importance to her.)

‘Drink first, or are you being dragged over to Duck End by
my impatient daughter?' Deirdre said laughingly. ‘She is like a child in a sweet shop – new home, new business.'

‘I would kill for a Bloody Mary. Those trains have plastic sandwiches and tins of beer; not sufficient substance for a growing boy,' he said with a grin.

Over a jug of well-chilled Bloody Marys and cheese straws they caught up with news. Bob was working hard, and Liberty picked up that all was not a bed of roses for J-T at the moment. Maybe that was why he had been so willing to drop everything and come for a prolonged stay. His always cheery, rosy face was a little thinner than normal. ‘Too much partying, my dear,' he explained, dismissing her fears. ‘Bobbie is so busy and I get fed up staying in on my own. He loves what he does, but we need time together, too. The dogs even barked when he came home the other night. They had forgotten he lives with me.'

‘Why don't you get him down here for a while? I insist he has a break, and anyway he only needs to come over Christmas.'

‘My goodness,' chortled J-T, ‘that would be fabulous, wouldn't it? Can we really? Can the dogs come too?'

‘Of course, darling,' responded Deirdre enthusiastically, ‘the more the merrier. Paloma and Claude will be here, and as Sarah and her terrors will be at her parents for the holidays there will be plenty of room.'

‘Right,' said Liberty in her best organising voice. ‘Before we get stuck into another jug, can I drag you along to show you the old butcher's place?'

‘If you must,' grumbled J-T, ‘but then I want to hear all the gossip and the update on Piggy Percy.'

They arrived at the now almost completed café, and Liberty proudly ushered him inside. J-T stood quietly for a few moments and then gave his considered view.

‘It's hardly The Ivy, darling . . . but it's fabulous. Very you.'

Liberty hugged him. ‘Thank you. I really needed your approval.'

The large room had been transformed. The huge flagstones
were gleaming after being steam-cleaned by Sarah; the cream painted walls were almost covered by oil and water colour paintings framed in different gilt and woods. Landscapes, portraits and animals gave a cosy atmosphere.

‘The wiring is in place for most of the lighting,' explained Liberty, ‘but we need to get the right balance of being able to see well enough to serve customers without blinding them, and at the same time creating a cosy atmosphere.'

J-T nodded, adding, ‘Getting the lighting right can make or break a place,' then, with a smile and a sideways glance at his now anxious friend, ‘but I can help with that, darling!'

The shelves were covered with masses of vintage teapots, cups, saucers and jugs, to be used both for decoration and storage. Pretty ornamental glass jars, ready to hold biscotti, shortbreads and different coloured home-made marshmallows gleamed on the top shelf. The large counter made from walnut and glass would display cakes and pastries and was rather high, separating the kitchen door from the restaurant, so nobody would have to sit being constantly passed by staff coming and going. Liberty had found a settle at Philip's warehouse where customers could sit quietly and read a newspaper without being disturbed.