The Sweetness of Liberty James (34 page)

J-T ambled into Savannah's bedroom, and they caught up with Liberty's marriage and its break-up while she was in the bathroom. Savannah had been aware of Liberty losing her sense of smell and taste, but had always assumed it would have returned.

‘It's strange,' she said, when she had heard most of the story. ‘I always imagined Liberty doing something with food. With Deirdre and Alain as parents, it was inevitable. I'm so pleased things are finally working out for her. Must be fabulous to have such a passion,' she continued wistfully.

As Liberty emerged from the bathroom she could tell she was the topic of conversation and laughed at her friends on the bed.

‘OK, what have I missed? Have you married me off? Sorted out my life? Decided on a proper career for me to prevent me from opening a café in a village in Middle of Nowhere?'

‘Actually, we think it's brilliant, and I am sure I could help you,' said Savannah.

Leaving J-T to make use of the bathroom and its toiletries, Liberty asked Savannah what she meant as they went downstairs.

‘As you know, I am considering not returning to Abu Dhabi, and maybe I could help you in the café? If you use those two pillocks who run the tea room, it will be a disaster. You want a
totally professional establishment and it's going to be impossible to find staff who know the right knife and fork, let alone what a properly made trifle is, or whatever it is you chefs make around here. I don't need the money, and so you can trust me completely with the till. AND, it would be such fun!'

Liberty agreed with her friend that it would certainly be exciting to work together, and she knew she had been worried about finding help. It would be tremendous to have a well-educated person as front of house. In France it was such a respected job, and people had to train for it. In England, waitressing was always seen as a step to something better, and therefore was rarely something people took pride in, other than in top restaurants.

She was also aware, however, that this was Savannah's latest, and therefore her best ever, idea. After a few months the novelty would wear off and she would flit to the next one. This was simply her nature; but to have that help for the first few months, or even weeks, could be invaluable.

Grasping her dear friend's hand, Liberty said, ‘Firstly, I want in no way to encourage you to stay here rather than to return to Abu Dhabi. I think you need to make that decision entirely on your own for the sake of your family. But if you decide to stay, then I will love for you to come and work with me, for as long as you can bear dealing with the public.'

‘Hooray!' was all Savannah replied, and although Liberty too felt delighted, her heart sank a little as she realised her friend had decided her marriage was over. They chatted for a while, until Deirdre came to get them. They walked into the drawing room, where the three handsome de Weatherby men turned from the fireplace. What a trio; all tall, one blond cherub and two dark and swarthy. They looked as glamorous as a modern-day
Downton Abbey
cast.

Edmund immediately carried on talking to Grahame about what, as a Member of Parliament, he could do to encourage more land to be set aside for wind turbines.

‘A few acres of turbines would power most of Sussex,' he said. ‘We could be the forerunners in the country.'

Gray smiled sweetly at Liberty before turning to discuss the subject with his brother.
God, Ed is so rude
, thought Liberty.
No one would imagine he is Jonathan's son
. Then Jonathan handed her a pink gin and she forgot to think about it further.

‘I didn't realise people still drank such things,' said Deirdre. ‘Mmm, delicious, just what the doctor ordered. Talking of which, Mrs G says supper is at eight.' As J-T and the children joined them, they all sat to enjoy catching up on lost years and fond memories.

29

Waking up the next day was tough. Liberty had slept soundly for once. Deirdre, never at her best in the morning, had struggled to let the dogs out and screamed at her hangover to go away. She had a booking, her last before Christmas; the children from the local housing estate, which was a close of fairly pretty cottages near the river, were coming to make biscuits and mince pies. She had to be on alert and sparkling form for them. Although most had the latest iPod and smartphone, they all lacked direction and most, family too. Not one of the fifteen children seemed to have a happy home. Three fathers were in the clink for some crime or other; one, she believed, was even in for murder. The rest were barely seen, if around at all. Most of the children seemed to have suffered one or other tragedy in their lives, and she loved to mother them and to fuss. Despite their almost kamikaze lack of discipline or respect they all knew to be well-mannered and polite to Deirdre, as she gave them a few hours of hope that there could be happiness and warmth in their futures.

Deirdre shouted to Liberty and J-T to get up, then she forced croissants and home-made black cherry jam on them, followed by gallons of dark coffee. She reminded J-T he needed to finish off all party lists and table plans.

‘We must decide if we are going to join the Christmas festivities at Denhelm, or just do the day here. Bob and Paloma, together with her son Claude and Evangeline, his fiancée, will be arriving the day after tomorrow, and we have their rooms to prepare and food to organise.'

Mother and daughter spent a stressful morning making pastry
for the mince pies and wrapping small presents. Each of the children would have a stocking all to themselves to take home and open on Christmas morning. Deirdre was aware that, sadly, most of them didn't expect one from their parents.

They filled old walking socks with clementines, little homemade biscuits, sugared mice and almonds, small toys for the younger ones and books for the older children. Deirdre knew that even young teenagers loved to have little presents to open on Christmas morning, and sometimes the old-fashioned things were still best. Just having something for themselves gave them a sense of feeling special.

The two women decorated the kitchen as much as they could, having bought lots of festive things from Jane Asher online. Sprinkles, sparkles, edible glitter and little people made out of sugar decorated a cake that everyone would share after the class.

The youngsters rushed in with snow in their hair, adding to the feeling of the impending festival. Soon the kitchen was full of boys with their hands in jars of mincemeat, with ‘I'll be making mincemeat out of you, tosser' being bandied around the room.

The girls all seemed too quiet, too made up and too grown up. The boys, on the other hand, all seemed immature, clinging on to a half-invented childhood, perhaps. Soon they were all smiling, however, as some good, some bad and some burned cakes and biscuits were brought from the oven.

One boy, Clarence, whose mother was from Zimbabwe (nobody in the village was sure if she was in the country legally, despite Miss Scally's investigations), had shown real talent from the outset. He hardly spoke apart from answering questions about food, but was quick to learn and took instruction well. He had quickly picked up most of the easy recipes, so Deirdre would challenge him to harder tasks on his own. He showed a genuine interest in cooking, especially baking, but whenever Deirdre offered him extra lessons (free of charge) he made an excuse. Deirdre discovered that most of his spare time was taken up with caring for his two baby sisters while his mother found
work here and there working at the village shop or at the farm shop when they needed help.

Clarence had not been making mince pies with the others. Unbeknownst to all, he had found an old-fashioned, round plum pudding mould. He had wanted to impress Deirdre, and thank her by making one of the puddings he had seen in the old story books picked up by his mother in the charity shop. In the old illustrations, Christmas puddings were always round, with icing and a sprig of holly on top. However, nobody had informed him that such a pudding needed steaming for three hours, so when he realised he couldn't make it, he changed direction.

He selected chocolate, cream, vanilla and cinnamon from the pantry. Deirdre had noticed he was up to something, but knowing that trust was something important to these children she let him get on with his task, and indicated to Liberty to do the same unless he asked for help. Clarence was pleased Liberty was around as he could ask her advice without telling Deirdre what he was doing. She loved to help and told him what a good idea it was. Therefore, when their time was up, the kitchen table scrubbed clean and all the happy, if floury, children showing what they had made, both women waited with bated breath as Clarence proudly carried his offering to the table.

As he whisked off the cloche that Liberty had found for him, he said, ‘Ta-raaaa!' Even the loudest child fell silent. On a white platter, surrounded by a ring of holly, was a small football of shiny, tempered chocolate. Its peak was crowned with a perfect circle of marzipan, finished off with green sugar holly and red sugar berries.

As he cracked open the ball with a silver spoon they could see the rum- and vanilla-laced Chantilly cream within. All the children leapt at it, grabbing a delicate piece of chocolate and scooping up the cream with it.

‘Delicious!' announced Deirdre. ‘Far too much rum, though,' she said, giggling. She then declared that she would serve one just the same as Christmas pudding. ‘Well done!'

Clarence glowed under the praise, and more so from that of his contemporaries, who were all telling him he ‘should be the next Jamie Oliver, mate!' and slapping him on the back. He realised most were enjoying the rum content, and he felt happier than he could remember.

They were handed their stockings with instructions not to open them before Christmas morning. Deirdre held Clarence's arm to make sure he was the last to leave, and as he stepped out of the door she handed him her own edition of
Larousse Gastronomique
. She had written on the flyleaf:
I hope this encourages your passion. My best, D. James
.

Deirdre hugged him and told him to have a merry Christmas, and to think again about the extra lessons. She told him he could bring his younger siblings, if that would help? Clarence thanked her, but his awkward race out of the door made her realise that she may not be able to persuade him.

Just then, Sarah arrived to clean and dropped a clanger with the news she was expecting a baby.

‘My congratulations,' said Deirdre sarcastically, and then, in response to Liberty's glare, who was shocked at her mother's blatant disapproval, ‘Why don't we let Liberty clear up? She needs the practice for her café. I must hear all about this. Come through to the sitting room.'

As Liberty wiped and swept, her thoughts annoyingly kept returning towards Edmund. Like cats, women often find themselves drawn to men who show little or no interest. His handsome face hung in her mind like an adored family portrait. So memorable. He had only ever scowled at her and told her off for being silly, but she had also seen such tenderness when he played with his niece and nephew. What was she thinking, she asked herself. He clearly had no interest in her. She tried to clear her mind, which didn't work, so she concentrated her thoughts on Savannah. She was concerned for her friend. Was Khalid so bad she could consider taking his children from him? She loved her friend, and would do anything for her, but she felt she couldn't
condone taking children away not only from their father, but also from their place of birth. On the spur of the moment, she phoned her.

‘Hello,' blubbed a nasal voice.

‘Hi, Savvie, it's me, Liberty. What's wrong?'

‘Can you come over?'

‘Be there in five.'

And grabbing a coat she shouted to her mother that she was off to Denhelm Park.

When she arrived there was a police car standing by the front door. Liberty cut her engine and ran up the steps, leaving her car door wide open.

‘Savvie, Savvie, where are you?'

‘In there,' said Gray from the doorway. He was nursing a brandy.

The parlour was a small, comfortable sitting room, cosy in raspberry and gold. That evening, those were the only colours in the room. Jonathan and Edmund sat either side of Savannah, whose smeary eyes had the appearance of someone who had run out of tears.

A policewoman was taking notes. A younger policeman stood uneasily shifting from one foot to the other.

When Jonathan introduced Liberty to Detective Inspector Alice Groom and Constable Trump, a fleeting realisation of the unfortunate name was followed by unimaginable terror. She raised her eyebrows to Savannah, who could only open and close her mouth silently.

Jonathan took charge, and in a quiet but commanding voice addressed the inspector.

‘I think Savannah should now try to rest. She can call you if she remembers anything else. Would that be all right, Inspector? The doctor has given her tranquilisers to help her sleep.' He rose, clearly to show the two investigating officers out.

‘Yes, yes, of course.' Alice Groom had a strong local accent, but looked efficient in a neat black suit, hair scraped back into
a chignon as though she wasn't yet ready to be out of uniform. Her eyes were bright and intelligent and she asked Liberty why she was there.

As Jonathan and Mrs Goodman led Savannah from the room, Edmund became the man in charge. Liberty just had a chance to squeeze her friend's hand in passing but received no pressure in return.

‘DI Groom,' said Edmund, ‘this is Liberty James, who lives in the village. A very good friend of my sister. She has only met Khalid once, but may have some insight regarding the situation.'

Liberty wanted to ask ‘What situation?', but Edmund's efficient, calm tones kept her silent.

Inspector Groom sighed. She turned to Liberty. ‘We believe Mr bin Wazir has kidnapped his children and has returned with them to Abu Dhabi.'

Liberty collapsed into the chair that luckily stood behind her.