The Sweetness of Liberty James (47 page)

‘Oh, that would be because he didn't want his name in the papers any more than it is now. But depending on whose baby it is, he may well not be able to avoid having a juicy little story or two about himself.'

‘I have no right to be angry, but I can't stop it hurting. Is it selfish and self-pitying to be jealous of a baby fathered by someone I would have been miserable with? Probably,' Liberty answered her own question, hiding her tear-laden eyes by busying herself looking for chocolates in the fridge and then firing up the espresso machine.

She jumped as a pair of strong arms wrapped around her
from behind. ‘Your time will come, I am sure,' said Edmund gruffly into her hair. ‘I'm not really sure of the right words to comfort you. If only we could rid the world of selfish arseholes like Percy.' And then he thought,
I am madly in love with this woman, and want to whisk her off to a desert island and give her all the babies she desires
. But he just hugged her until she stopped snuffling. He let her go slowly as she said brightly, ‘Coffee's ready.'

There was an awkward moment when she turned round and Edmund was standing very close, only two espresso cups between them. They gazed at each other, both ignorant of the way the other felt, but completely held in the moment by the strong emotions flowing between them. Teal leapt up at Edmund's trouser leg, breaking the spell, and he took the cups and suggested they had coffee by the fire, which he busied himself lighting.

Liberty meanwhile loaded a tray with florentines and pistachio macaroons, chocolates and the coffee, before joining him.

‘Any news about your application for a drinks licence?' asked Edmund as he piled red alder logs on the already blazing fire. He thought it best to talk about something neutral, and then was distracted again. ‘My word, these macaroons are good. What is it about them?'

‘A touch of orange zest and coffee, so they are not too sweet,' replied Liberty, realising she hadn't checked the post. She leapt up and found a pile of junk in the box, together with a large manila envelope containing a single A4 sheet.

‘“Dear Mrs James,”' she read. ‘“Thank you for your recent application to be a licence holder at the above premises. Unfortunately, we cannot by law allow ourselves to grant licences to holders of criminal records. Yours sincerely . . .” What on earth?'

She handed the letter to Edmund, collapsed into a chair and yelled to the gods, ‘Could today get any worse?'

‘What criminal record do you have?' asked Edmund, as it was the only question he could think of.

‘Exactly,' she replied. ‘I may have had a few parking tickets over the years, but nothing more.'

‘Not even in your debauched youth?'

As Liberty flashed an angry look at him, she realised he was smiling.

‘Come on, now, they must have the wrong person. You have to laugh. They either sent you the wrong letter or, horror of horrors, there are two Liberty Jameses out there. So don't panic. Think reasonably. There must be a mistake. We will clear it up on Monday.'

Liberty felt reassured by the use of the word ‘we', and started to calm down.

‘I could do with a day off,' said Edmund. ‘Let's go to your solicitor together and ask him to phone the council.'

‘What if it gets into the local press before I've even opened?' asked Liberty, panic rising again. ‘“Ex-con to open tea rooms in idyllic village.” Oh cripes.'

‘Come on,' said Edmund for a second time, but very gently. ‘First of all, who would release that to the press, and secondly, why would they? This area is screaming out for a decent place to meet and eat. Tell you what. On Monday we will contact the local rags, get them to do a piece on you and your plans, then put a bit of advertising their way before you open. How long to go?'

‘Only eight weeks, so it's probably a good idea. That may well stir up some interest. Mother was just telling me that I need to publicise my opening.'

‘I will contact Gray by email tomorrow,' Edmund reassured her. ‘He had lots of friendly contacts in the local papers. Don't forget, they gave very fair comments when the national red tops were hounding him.'

‘Oh, would you?' Liberty breathed a little easier. ‘You are clever to think of that.'

Edmund thought his chest would explode. After weeks of feeling utterly useless on the estate, a tiny compliment made him feel like a king.

‘Right,' he said briskly, to cover his emotions. ‘You get some sleep. Don't forget you need to face your parents in the morning. Come for a ride in the afternoon – that might help clear your mind and blow a few cobwebs away, and you can fill me in.' At Liberty's bemused look, he said, ‘I'm meant to keep abreast of all comings and goings in the village!' He did not include that he wanted to make sure she was all right.

‘Thank you for everything,' said Liberty as they walked to the door. ‘Supper was lovely and I feel terrible to burden you with all my rubbish. I haven't even asked you about the estate and how you are doing. You must think me horrible. I shall make you a deal. Tomorrow, we will talk about your life and how miserable that is, and I will bring lunch.'

Edmund burst out laughing. ‘Thanks,' he said ironically.

‘Well, you know what I meant,' said Liberty, blushing. ‘My crappy life – at least pretend you are having a tough time too!'

They kissed, quickly and formally on both cheeks. Both felt the fire running through their bodies and, ignoring the magnetic pull, leapt apart as if forced to do so. As Edmund walked purposefully down her garden path back to his car, Liberty allowed herself to think,
You have made the day bearable. Thank you
.

As she brushed her teeth and washed her face again, she still basked in the warmth and strength of Edmund's words and body.
Please let tomorrow bring answers, and less parental flesh!
Turning the lights off, and once again mentally thanking J-T for putting all the side lights on composite wall switches, she let her mind drift over the day's events: criminal record, Percy having a baby, Mummy and Daddy playing happy families.
Will I ever sleep?
She curled up under the duvet, the full moon shining on her bed, and for once allowed Teal to jump up and curl up next to her.
I'm sure things could be worse
, she reflected, thinking about Gray in Bangladesh and Savannah possibly imprisoned in Abu Dhabi.

40

After a wretched night's sleep, Liberty rose early, determined things could only get better, and took Teal out for some air. The morning was glorious and, unable to resist its charms, she set off for a romp over the frozen fields of Denhelm, carrying Teal most of the way as she was a little too young to be walking so far. A silhouette in the distance looked handsomely familiar and she made a direct line for the well-muffled Edmund, wondering what he was up to. Reaching him, she shielded the little dog's ears from his expletives.

‘Edmund?' said Liberty tentatively. Edmund dropped the long rod he was shoving down a manhole while swearing like a trooper, and said further loud and very rude words again as the rod disappeared into the murk. Turning to face her, his stormy face broke into a huge smile.

‘Morning! And you thought you had trouble!' he said with another ear-to-ear grin. ‘The pipes have all backed up, probably frozen somewhere, and the kitchen smells like something the dog wouldn't bring in. I had to forcibly remove Mrs Goodman as even if she could cook breakfast in there, I certainly wouldn't be able to keep it down!'

‘How and why are you so cheerful, then?' asked Liberty, bemused to see the normally solemn-faced Edmund so happy in adversity.

‘At least I feel useful, or I was, but now I seem to have made things worse and will have to call someone out. Bugger.'

Desperate to keep the smile on Edmund's face, Liberty asked
him to join her for breakfast with Alain and Deirdre. ‘It would be lovely to have you there,' she said meekly.

‘As a buffer between you and your apparently reconciled parents, you mean,' said Edmund laughingly, but he agreed, and said he would be along when he had showered and changed.

Edmund had been grinning for most of the night; even the stench in the kitchen hadn't removed the silly expression from his face. Liberty had made him feel like a man again. She needed him, she trusted him, and after seeing her so vulnerable, he couldn't imagine anything better in life than making sure nothing bad ever happened to her again.

The winter sun shone through the large kitchen window as Liberty returned from walking across the frostbitten fields. Her cheeks were glowing from the cold air and from wondering what today would bring. She was thrilled that Edmund had agreed to come to breakfast. Despite his being able to guess why she had invited him, she hadn't added that she loved having him around full stop.

Liberty was in the mood for uplifting music and found Mozart's ‘Piano Concerto No. 16' on her iPod. She enjoyed the happy sound washing over her as she busied herself making potato pancakes, frying black pudding and apple, and slicing smoked eel to give to her parents. Then the phone rang.
Oh, please don't cancel on me, Edmund
, thought Liberty as she reached for the receiver.

‘Hello, Liberty, it's Percy.' She almost dropped the receiver. How did he have her home number?

‘Hello,' was all she could think of saying, all the previous joy instantly swept away. Why was he phoning?

‘Yes, look,' barked Percy, ‘I think you will have heard already, but I thought I should tell you myself. Some silly bitch is claiming to be having my baby. All bloody awkward as it's Hugh Cyril's wife.'

Liberty baulked and her stomach clenched, horrified to be reminded of how he spoke of people. She had met the quietly
spoken yet attractive Hugh at the bank, and his wife at several parties. She had been a bit of a social climber, but pleasant enough.

‘Oh, do you mean Georgina?'

Obviously surprised that Liberty remembered her name, Percy was quiet for a moment. ‘Um, humph, yes, her. Anyway, don't put too much thought into it, it's a load of tosh. She just thought I was an easy target when Hugh threw her out and refused to pay her maintenance.'

Liberty couldn't imagine kind Hugh throwing anyone out of his house, except perhaps the former chancellor, for whom he had an unreasonable hatred, or maybe a hatred of having to advise him financially during his time in high office.

‘Right,' she said, not sure how to continue. Did she believe him? Did it matter? Then another thought crossed her mind.

‘Why did you phone now, I mean, today?'

Long silence. ‘I just thought you would have heard by now. Do you think we should get divorce proceedings underway? Be good to have done with the whole shebang. Bye now.' And with that the phone went dead.

Liberty was gazing at the receiver in her hand when she realised the black pudding needed turning and she hadn't put the coffee on. She resisted the urge to cry, as that wouldn't sort out anything. She had so many questions, but she needed to try to be cheerful for her parents so she pushed Percy, divorce and his sorry mess to the back of her mind.

‘Morning, darling!' Two cheery voices floated through the kitchen window. Other than in commercial kitchens, Liberty hated extractor fans, and had opened the window to try to vent some frying smells into the frosty air.

‘I'll just come and open the door,' she shouted. Dijon and Custard limped and flew in to greet little Teal, then Custard raced around the kitchen to check in case Liberty had left piles of sausages on the floor.

Deirdre and Alain were gazing at each other and looking like
a couple of teenage lovers, which made Liberty forget all about Percy and feel sick instead.

‘Oh, yuck,' she said, ‘now I feel like a child embarrassed at my own parents. Sit on opposite sides of the table, and I'll pour coffee.'

‘Oh, we brought champagne, and sloes left over from the gin. Let's have a cocktail – it's time to celebrate!' said Deirdre. Alain was grinning like a schoolboy but saying nothing.

So Liberty tried to be the good daughter, look cheery and manage to splash champagne into flutes with a few of the sloes. She told her parents about the letter from the licensing board, and they agreed with Edmund it must have been a mistake or a mix-up.

‘Talking of Edmund, I just met him on a walk, and invited him to join us. I hope you don't mind?'

Liberty hoped it was a rhetorical question as she wasn't sure how much love-struck parenting she could take on her own.

‘Told you,' was all Deirdre had to say, and that was directed at Alain, who told her not to interfere. At last finding his voice, he ignored Liberty's puzzled look and advised, as though they had all been discussing the subject, ‘Your main idea is to have a daytime patisserie-cum-café, so it's not the end of the world if the licence isn't sorted before you open. If you are going to start advertising, don't mention an alcohol licence until it's up and going, but I'm sure a quick phone call will clear that up.'

Liberty could hear him talking as she served up breakfast, but felt as though she was hovering above the room. Where could Edmund be? She listened and watched as her parents fell upon the food, drank cocktails with gusto and finished off the coffee and tiny almond and pear tartlets.

‘If this is anything to go by, you will have happy customers,' said Deirdre and Alain, sounding like nauseating twins.

‘Oh, stop it. Just tell me – what is going on with you two?' said Liberty crossly. She had been unable to eat a thing.

Deirdre and Alain looked at each other, and then back at
Liberty. ‘If you will allow me, my dear,' said Alain, eyeing Deirdre in a stomach-turning sickly way that was both delightful and horrible to Liberty. ‘I knew I had made a terrible mistake the moment I left your mother. I felt I had to stand by Genevieve when she fell pregnant, probably in a selfish way, because I didn't want bad publicity at that time for the restaurant.'