The Sweetness of Liberty James (41 page)

Hmm
, thought Deirdre.

Deirdre felt the evil eye of Miss Scally upon her and asked the doctor, ‘How do you cope with such a terror as receptionist and secretary?' She was having to shout to be heard, but thankfully there was so much noise nobody else could hear her.

‘She has been a godsend at organising my office and files, and can you imagine the fallout if I fired her? I've been hoping she may retire, but who would take her place?'

Deirdre's mind was still in gear. ‘What about Sarah? She will need to work after the baby comes, and she is exhausting herself with cleaning.'

‘Lovely girl!' beamed the doctor. ‘Not a bad idea, not a bad idea at all . . .' And with that, they gave up trying to talk over the music.

Liberty had surprised herself by enjoying Edmund's company during the meal, but he had quickly taken his leave when Fred bounded over to ask her to dance. As Fred nuzzled into her and tried all his best moves, Liberty wondered what was wrong – she felt no attraction to the Irish hunk now. Maybe it was knowing he was such a tart. But she allowed herself to enjoy his firm, capable body swinging her around the floor.

At ten minutes to midnight Terence Macready, who was really very tired of women trying to seduce him, decided to remove himself from the throng in the only way he knew. Asking the band if they minded, he took the mike and announced he was going to sing them into the new year. One of his most popular tracks had been ‘Dancing For the First', a catchy rock number released with the sole purpose of reaching number one for the new year – well, actually, new year in 1979, but with his hips gyrating in his black jeans, bow tie removed, and his dark shirt clinging to his taut midriff, he still looked very much the rock star. His voice was perhaps not as strong as it had once been – too many concerts and too many cigarettes – but it was now softer and more gravelly, which suited this particular band. Originally he had been accompanied by drum rolls and clashing guitars,
but now the smoother sound of the bass guitar and saxophone gave the song a real energy and life of its own.

Dammit
, thought the quiet Mrs Macready, who had spent the last thirty-five years as the stay-at-home wife and manager.
He sounds so good, we are going to have to re-record and re-release that song. At least it will help with the grandchildren's school fees
.

At the end of the song was a countdown which usually fed into a guitar solo, but had been also used as a lead up to midnight by DJs for the past thirty-five years, and Terence brought the house down when he shouted ‘Midnight!'. Fireworks were exploding in the park, welcoming in the new year, and guests raced outside for fresh air and to ooh and aah. As they rushed past the demolished flower displays, the peacocks took exception to the noise and colourful explosions and flew off into the darkness.

Liberty was being kissed and hugged by everyone. She hoped it was not just the drink that was encouraging her enthusiastic welcome to the village. She hugged and kissed back, smiling as she watched Fred snogging a young beauty in a gold-sequinned dress.

‘You don't mind?'

She turned to find Edmund standing behind her.

‘What? Fred? God, no, he's funny and gorgeous, but a little loose for me where morals are concerned. Oh, Edmund, happy new year.' And she awkwardly kissed him on the cheek; he returned the pressure and hugged her to him. A fizz of energy spun down from her hair to her toes, and wrapped itself cosily round her shoulders where he had placed his arm. Embarrassed that he might be able to sense her excitement, she pulled away from his embrace a little too quickly, and he looked soulfully down at her.

‘I had better find Pa to wish him a happy new year,' he excused himself.

Liberty touched her cheek where he had kissed her. She had found herself thinking of his handsome face all too often
recently, and now she told herself to get a grip, as he seemed to want to move away from her so quickly. Although, when they chatted at supper, they had so much to say.
He probably has women falling at his feet, and doesn't want to lead another one on
, thought Liberty sadly.

Terence was back at the microphone, the lead singer of the band only too thrilled as the press photographers had managed to enter the marquee and were now snapping away. Great publicity!

Most people were getting a second wind, helped by bottles of champagne generously distributed over the tables for people to help themselves. Steaming coffee pots were also being laid out alongside trays of petits fours, which disappeared quickly. Dijon had forgotten his advanced years and disgraced himself by escaping when Liberty took the puppy out. He had thoughtfully dragged a tray of leftovers – sausages and mash, and pudding left for the disposal bin – to where Custard was waiting. They were found looking fat and guilty by Deirdre, who only said, ‘I thought you were meant to be scared of fireworks, but happy new year to you both.'

She was en route to the cloakroom to freshen up when she caught sight, through the sitting room door, of Jonathan and Paloma in a passionate embrace. Steeling herself for a jealous fist to attack her heart, she was surprised that all she felt was delight for two of her oldest friends, and she found her mouth smiling as she reapplied her lipstick.

Hours later cars rolled up the high street to take the guests home. Liberty was feeling a bit flat as she said goodnight to the last few stragglers. She was wondering what had happened to Edmund, Gray and J-T. Jonathan was in the kitchen with Deirdre and Paloma, and Bob had gone to bed after sealing a deal with Terence for three paintings by one of his latest discoveries that Terence had been admiring on Bob's iPad. It had also been agreed, by way of thanks, that J-T would redesign the
Macreadys' flat in London, because Mrs M said it looked like something from the 1970s.

‘It's where he still goes to write music, and I do believe it could bring his music into today's world if he is no longer surrounded by wooden standard lamps and Moroccan prayer rugs. He even has a kaftan,' she admitted, laughing, ‘but don't say I told you!'

‘We all get inspiration from different things,' said Terence, fondly pushing his fingers through her hair. But he had allowed his wife to discuss their project with Bob, as she rarely asked for anything. Bob wondered where the hell J-T had got to, so felt little guilt in offering his work free of charge.

As Liberty rested her danced-out legs by the Aga, Teal on her lap, she asked Jonathan whether Gray and Edmund had gone home.

‘I'm not entirely sure,' replied Jonathan. ‘I haven't been paying much attention.' He smiled at Paloma, looking like a wolfhound that has just found a huge sofa right by the fire, together with a bowl of Bonios with ‘WELCOME' written on it.

I may just be missing Savvie
, thought Liberty, who always felt deflated after a party. But it had been such fun. She really felt she had got to know lots of the local people. She had managed to steer clear of Miss Scally, and she had even chatted to Gwen and Paul, the couple who ran the existing tea shop. She had suggested to them that maybe they would like to do some travelling while they could, and enjoy their retirement rather than working all hours. Gwen agreed, saying she had always dreamed of visiting Portugal, and perhaps they could go on a painting holiday. Paul, who preferred lying on a beach pretending to sleep while ogling the topless sunbathers, said he would think about it, but money didn't grow on trees.

‘You have a good pension, dear,' sighed Gwen, whose feet, used to running around all day, were now feeling pinched in her party shoes. Liberty felt sorry for Gwen, but she needed energy and vitality, not an exhausted, frustrated housewife, as her front of house. Pleased she hadn't hurt their feelings too much, she
wished she could summon Savannah back – that would be such fun. She would work something out.

‘I really must go to bed,' announced Deirdre finally. ‘Tomorrow we have to round up those bloody peacocks, God knows where they are, and I feel awful about Leah. Did you get to talk to her at all?'

‘No. Last I saw of her, she was arguing with her mother about some man. It's sad, but I'm not sure it was the best time to try to unite long-lost sisters!'

Deirdre smiled and said, ‘No, I suppose not, but I think you should try again. The poor girl seems lost, and with such a bitch of a mother and an absent father, I'm not surprised! Did you happen to notice Dr Brown talking to Sarah? I think something may start there!'

Liberty sighed. ‘Mother, you must stop matchmaking, Sarah has enough problems, not to mention a husband.'

‘Yes, true, but she deserves better, and if she could work for him, it would kill two birds, so to speak. However, I have no intention of having voodoo dolls made of me, and finding boiled rabbits on the stove. I'm sure Miss Scally has put off all poor Dr Brown's admirers since his wife died.'

‘You could start by addressing him by his first name,' put in Paloma, whose eyes were glazing over with love as she yawned into her camomile tea.

‘I had better say goodnight,' said Jonathan, and he rose to leave. Paloma followed him into the hall.

‘Lots to talk about in the morning, my darling,' said Deirdre, raising her eyebrow as she bent to kiss Liberty on the forehead. ‘Happy new year, my wonderful girl, it's going to be a great one. I love you.'

35

Liberty woke late; not surprising, but annoying for her, as the first day of January was her favourite day of the year. It was an opportunity, Liberty felt, not for resolutions, but for a clean start, especially this year. After dressing quickly, she clutched the still sleepy Teal in her arms and went downstairs, saying in the pug's ear, ‘Your first hangover from a late night, honey, but not the last!' She plonked the dog on the lawn, and then pushed Dijon and Custard out too. They still looked very portly after their midnight feast.

The garden was a sight. Glasses littered about, spent firework casings stuck in the hedges – there was even somebody's dress lying on a chair. The organisers would arrange for the marquee to be taken down later, and the caterers would collect the glasses, but she couldn't just leave all the mess, so she wandered round, picking up plates and detritus. After a few minutes she heard a whimpering. Had one of the dogs trodden on a glass, she thought in horror. She looked about only to see J-T, exhausted, red-eyed, sitting on the frozen ground, still in his dress shirt and socks.

‘Don't ask!' he wailed.

‘Well, you know I'm going to, but you must be chilled to the bone! Have you been out here all night? Go and have a hot shower and get into some warm clothes. I'll put the coffee on.' Liberty helped him up as he was icy cold and could barely stand.

She pushed him up the stairs, terribly worried as to why he was out there in the first place. She called the dogs in and warmed some milk, put a little brandy into a jug, then, just as she
poured the coffee she heard shouting and arguing. Recognising Bob's voice, she decided to leave them to it, but was now very concerned. It was fifteen minutes before J-T entered the kitchen, together with Deirdre, who had been woken by the ruckus. He was now fully dressed but barefooted, which startled Liberty, who had only ever seen him impeccably clad. She put coffee before him and added two spoonfuls of sugar. Deirdre added brandy and milk, before helping herself and sitting beside him, wrapping a woollen blanket over his shivering shoulders.

‘So tell me, what's happened?'

‘It's just awful. Too awful.' They heard a car's engine starting up outside. ‘That will be Bob. He's gone,' he said quietly.

‘Why and how?' asked Deirdre, remembering J-T had used her car to fetch Bob.

‘He called the company driver who had been staying with his family nearby,' J-T explained.

Liberty sat beside him, put her hands around his, and said gently, ‘It can't be that bad. Tell us about it. We might be able to help.'

‘Oh, it's bad,' he said. ‘I've messed up three lives, and have only myself to blame for it. If only there could be another tsunami!'

‘I don't understand, what do you mean?' asked Liberty, now desperately worried for her trembling friend.

‘You know,' he mumbled, ‘the big story that knocks all the others off the front cover.'

‘It was only a party,' said Liberty. ‘What on earth can have happened?'

‘I suggest you run to the shops and fetch the papers,' said Deirdre to her daughter. She was now beginning to comprehend this could be more serious than a mere lovers' scuffle.

Everyone Liberty met while rushing along the street thanked her for such a good evening, but seemed to have an ironic edge to their voice. She was now seriously worried. There was the
Daily Tidings
, stacked up before her in the newsagent's.
Nobody ever admitted to reading it, but everyone did, as it kept the country informed about the latest footballer scandal, who had been sacked from the latest TV reality show, and vegetables that looked like Jesus or Cherie Blair.

Liberty's heart leapt into her mouth as she saw the front cover. Its entirety was taken up with a photograph captioned ‘How Much Energy Are You Saving Now?'. The meaning was clear. The photographer must have been right outside, for he had taken a remarkably clear picture of Deirdre's dining room, whose windows faced the village green, despite being set well back from the road and fronted by a high hedge. There, for the entire world to see, was Grahame doing something to J-T's crotch, although it was deliberately blurred.

No, no, impossible!
was Liberty's initial thought. And then:
I can't buy all of them!

Mr Podaski, the newsagent, had not attended the party as he had to be in his shop by five every morning. By now, almost wishing he had, he was watching as Liberty snatched a copy of every newspaper he stocked, and fled. He put them on Deirdre's bill. She rushed home carrying her vast bundle, and into the kitchen, where J-T had been telling Deirdre what had happened between sobs: about getting bladdered with Gray, finding a friend and confidant, but taking it too far and falling into his arms (and obviously other parts, too). He looked up as Liberty came in; a brief flicker of hope washed over his face as he prayed that what he and Gray had feared when they were blinded by the photographer's flash had not been reality. But once he glanced at the front page of the
Daily Tidings
he despaired; there was no denying the magnitude of the coverage.