The Sweetness of Liberty James (7 page)

Because I feel lonely, and yes, I do feel hugely degraded
, was what Liberty was thinking, but she understood in a way. Most of her girlfriends' husbands refused to be there when they gave birth, or at least, refused to sit at ‘that end'.

Despite the horror, the fluctuating moods, and the emotional trauma when it didn't work, Liberty persuaded Percy to try for the third time in as many years. Ten long days to wait. She was sure it was going to work this time. Mr Probert had told her she would definitely have a baby this time. She made sure she went to see Zita West, an acclaimed ex-midwife who advised on nutrition and lifestyle, and gave her acupuncture, which had been shown in some studies to help with conception. It also gave Liberty something to do. She was feeling so helpless.

Percy insisted on their continuing to socialise, but Liberty felt so ill and out of sorts, she couldn't bring herself to dress up and be her usual charming self. It was the one time in her life she would kill for a glass of wine, or a stiff whisky, just for the sake of the alcohol numbing some of the feelings of worthlessness and uselessness which seemed increased by the hormonal upheaval. But she steadfastly refused any type of alcoholic drink. Percy worked and played hard as he always had. Liberty worked, went home and had long baths, breathing in herbs and aromatics prescribed by her naturopath to help her to stay calm and conceive. She wanted her husband to cuddle her, to enfold her in his arms. But he couldn't understand why.

‘Third time lucky,' said Mr Probert, as he waved her goodbye. ‘Phone us in ten days, when you have taken your test. I know you can do it.' He gave her an impish smile, and went back inside to help another couple make life.

6

Liberty had a pregnancy test ready and waiting; not that she needed it. She knew her body. And it was different. She had previously put on weight when doing IVF, but this time, instead of feeling like killing someone – anyone who looked at her, spoke to her or touched her – she felt calm and serene the whole time. A funny ‘Ready brek' glow seemed to envelop her and she had the feeling that nothing could touch or damage her. She was like a walking, talking, padded cell, and she was protecting her baby!

Liberty even stopped on her way back to the mews to stare through the window of Rococo chocolates, imagining the warm smell of the ground cocoa beans, the vanilla and cinnamon her mother used to add to her hot drink. She couldn't wait to be making breakfast for her child. Maybe the pregnancy would bring back her sense of taste and smell. The doctors had always insisted it was psychological and that another shock or major change in her life could well help it to return. For the first time in memory, Liberty found she missed her long-lost senses, and wished she could feel the joy she remembered from a freshly baked cake. Home and comfort were her associations with baking, or the wonder when a new taste crossed her tongue; she had to be able to experience these things again, didn't she?

As she let herself into the house, she was surprised to find Percy standing in the kitchen.

‘Darling! You didn't say you would make it home before you left on your trip.'

‘Well, you know you have the perfect husband. I have been
telling you a white lie; I don't have a business trip this week. Come on, my love, I am not a completely insensitive loutish idiot. I am taking you away. Go and pack your bag for a few days. We need to be smart. Oh, and here is a little something extra.'

He paused, leaned towards her over the kitchen island, and then put his hand in his jacket pocket and took out a box.

‘Oh my God!' she breathed. Percy had only ever given her jewellery when they became engaged, and that was inherited from his maternal grandmother, or in fact taken from his grandmother's finger by his mother and given to Percy in front of Liberty, as Mrs Cholmondly-Radley was horrified Liberty didn't have a ring to wear on her finger for their engagement party.

‘Go on, open it, you'll love it,' said Percy, a smile on his face.

Liberty pulled off the ribbon and opened the box and the case inside.

‘Wow!' That was all she could say. In the box was a very over-the-top diamond and citrine necklace. It had a great deal of filigree detail dripping from it. It was not to her classic taste at all, but what did men know? And anyway, it was so very thoughtful, and was for the baby, really. She knew she had to thank him.

‘Oh, sweetheart, I didn't know you were so romantic, and after all these years! I am so happy I shall burst!' She threw her arms round his neck, kissing him all over his face. ‘After eight years you still surprise me, and there was me beginning to worry that you were somewhat dissatisfied with your lot in life. I haven't managed to produce your heir, and I was worried you were tiring of me, and what must your parents think of me!'

Terrified she was going to start crying (these hormones were making life with the normally steady, capable Liberty a little chaotic) Percy removed her arms and told her to run and pack her bag.

‘And when do we leave for wherever it is? How will I know what to pack?'

‘Smart, but it should be warm, and in twenty minutes we will have to find a cab,' said Percy as he poured himself a coffee. ‘So go on!' He had noticed she was still rooted to the spot.

Liberty raced up the stairs as quickly as she could, found a dress bag and, using her ever-practical huge Hermès Birkin as a holdall-cum-handbag, flung in some DVF wraps as they would fit round her tummy, grabbed her bikini and a couple of cocktail dresses that always made her feel dressed up and smart, no matter what her mood. How forgiving a bit of black crepe can be when Karl Lagerfeld is behind the design! She then topped off the bag with passport and toiletries and at the last minute remembered her pregnancy test (or eight).

‘Come on darling, ready? Are you all right?'

Liberty noticed that Percy was wearing his thoroughly pissedoff face.

‘I'm not late?'

‘No, no, but come on, let's get going.'

‘Is everything OK, darling?' Liberty asked. ‘We don't have to do this if you need to be at the office; just the wonderful thought is enough.'

Percy half smiled. ‘No, nothing wrong there, no, come on, I have to set the alarm.'

A few years ago Percy rewarded himself for his own hard work by finally achieving his dream and acquiring a Pissarro, which now hung behind a false painting that was on a slide to hide the exquisite masterpiece and which was only revealed when they were entertaining or using the sitting room themselves. Bob, Liberty's friend from uni, had always been a bit funny about the arrival of the painting, which seemed to come with an odd selection of small Warhols and Hockneys. All the paintings, said Percy, had come from private collectors, which was why they were unknown, but he refused to enlarge on where they came from, just saying someone needed the cash quickly and therefore was practically giving them away. Bob said to Liberty
when they were alone that the paintings collectively would be worth well over a million.

How Percy had raised the cash Liberty didn't know, but she understood the importance of setting the alarm, after one hormone-induced stupid moment when she had run out of the house, slamming the door but leaving a window open. She had been late for an important meeting following an appointment with Mr Probert. When Percy got back to the house and found the window open, he had taken her watch, a twenty-first birthday present from her father, and her charm bracelet, which her mother gave her, followed by a charm each birthday, the two possessions she cherished most, and sold them to a jeweller. It took all her own savings to get them back, despite pleading with the wily businessman behind the counter, and she never, ever left the house without setting the alarm again.

So, alarm set, they jumped into a taxi, Liberty relaxed and excited, holding Percy's hand and begging him to tell her where they were going. Florence!

‘Florence! I haven't been there since I was sixteen. Daddy used to take me there, how I love it and how I love you!' exclaimed Liberty as she kissed Percy.

‘That's enough, you don't have to keep doing that,' said Percy, conscious of the grinning taxi driver looking in his rearview mirror.

‘That's all right, sir,' said the driver. ‘So nice to see a couple in love. Usually get the arguments at the end of the night – you two carry on with my blessing.'

Liberty grinned like a schoolgirl. How could she have doubted Percy? This was going to be amazing.

As she settled into her business class seat on the plane and strapped herself in, a smile crept across her face. Everything felt right and good in the world for the first time she could remember in years.
At last, I don't have that nagging sensation that I am living in an unreal world, with things going on around me that are outside my control. This is my life; my husband is
in love with me. This is happiness. And I didn't even realise that I wasn't living
.

She had always wanted to do work to help other people, but felt that by working for the family bank she would please her husband and his family. Now she felt very secure. Her husband did love her, and she would produce a baby to carry on the generations of CRs.
Everything is falling into place, and when I get home I can quit my silly job and concentrate on doing something important. I shall research doing charity work. Whatever have I been doing these past six years?

She hadn't appreciated until now how much she had felt ill at ease, and how much she disliked her job. She was good at it because she put all her effort and skill into anything she applied herself to. But she wanted to do something that truly fed her creative spirit, and having a baby was just the thing!

‘Glass of champagne, or juice?' The steward was leaning towards her with a tray.

‘Water, please.'

‘Oh, for God's sake,' said Percy. ‘I've paid good money for these tickets.' He took two glasses of bubbling champagne from the tray. ‘And you can bring the bottle back when we have taken off,' he reminded the steward.

Liberty glanced at him.

‘Well, what is it?' he asked. ‘You seem so pleased with yourself, quite different, really.'

‘Well, you know, it's best to be positive,' she responded meekly, feeling surprised that Percy wasn't as excited as she was about the impending pregnancy test, and worried he had been working too hard as he kept snapping. Trying to please him, but feeling no need for alcohol, she took a tiny sip of champagne.

She only knew it was champagne because of the bubbles running over her tongue, and felt an immediate furring in her mouth. ‘Yuck.' When the steward passed by she said to him, ‘Can I have some water, please, when you have a moment?' He brought her a large bottle and smiled sweetly at her before
letting his face fall and handing Percy a bag of nuts. Liberty wondered if he had spat in them, remembering J-T's steward friends telling her in peals of laughter what they did to rude passengers' food and drink. Then she shut her eyes until they took off, to clear her mind of all negative thoughts.

Through her dream Liberty heard the roar of the engines and opened her eyes, which were feeling rather heavy, although she had only had a very quick nap.

‘Welcome to Florence,' said Percy, smirking.
Oh God,
thought Liberty.
Whoops! I must have slept the whole way
. ‘You seem to have been tired,' said Percy, his smile odd and cold. Liberty wondered how much champagne he had drunk. ‘Are you going to sleep the whole weekend? I'm spending a fortune on this and if your hormones are going to make you sleep the entire time, I shall have to buy a book.'

‘Sorry, sorry,' said Liberty, feeling embarrassed. The passengers around them, now standing to retrieve bags, were listening with interest whilst turning on their mobiles and stretching stiffly.

Percy raced to passport control, then to the baggage carousel, as though they were late for something. He rushed off to find the hotel car and was chatting animatedly to the driver as she pushed through the crowds, trying to keep up. Not exactly relaxing so far. Liberty felt more like a spare part than his wife. He had given her this special treat and now she just seemed to be doing everything wrong and was acting like a failure. She must make more of an effort. Maybe she had been too self-absorbed recently.

She didn't speak Italian as fluently as he, but she understood ‘names wrong, stupid man' and ‘phone ahead' being snippets from their conversation.
Oh dear, I hope the hotel hasn't made a mess of our booking,
she thought.

‘Come on, get in the car. I just wanted to check the rooms were ready before we arrived. You know what a fuss these hotels make, even if I did book the rooms bloody six months ago.' How did he know six months ago they would be coming
here for this particular weekend? An alarm bell started ringing, but she decided to ignore it. This was going to be the most wonderful, romantic weekend of her life.

They drove through the cobbled streets of the old town in silence, Liberty struck dumb by the beauty and symmetry of the buildings. The sun was dazzling and made the contrast between grey London and roseate Florence even more noticeable.

As they drove up the steep winding road to Fiesole, Liberty realised they were staying at the Villa San Michele, where she had been as a teenager with her father. It had been converted from an ancient monastery into a five-star luxury hotel, cleverly done in a relaxed but grand way, as though it was a private house full of lovely things rather than a designed ‘space'. The staff were always waiting to attend to the guests' every wish or command, but they carried out these wishes in a discreet, subtle way, and therefore were never intrusive. Staying at the hotel was like being a guest of very good friends in their grand family home, with the best food in Tuscany served on the loggia overlooking the city of Florence. There were huge white hydrangeas blossoming in large terracotta pots on a terrace just below them, interspersed with lemon trees, also in pots, hanging with fragrant fruit.