Free The Sweetness of Liberty James by Janey Lewis Page A

sir.’ He indicated a table at the far end of the terrace, slightly apart from the others, and furthest away from the piano.
    â€˜Come and sit in the garden,’ said Giovanni, somehow manoeuvring them into two comfortable chairs overlooking the distant city. ‘Now, my dear lady, a fresh peach juice for you, I think? And what would sir enjoy?’ Percy looked aghast at the term of endearment directed towards his wife, and Liberty could almost hear him thinking ‘Bloody Eyetie!’.
    â€˜Whisky, single malt,’ said Percy, ‘and make it a decent size!’ he shouted at Giovanni’s back. The maître d’ acknowledged this with a nod of his head and a smile. He was used to hassled visitors who were unable to unwind from their hectic lives. A few days here and things would change.
    While they waited for their drinks Liberty sat back on her comfortable cushion-filled chair, and took in the incrediblebeauty of her surroundings. The gardens were terraced, flanked by one wall of the hotel. Swathed by an ancient wisteria, small garden rooms could just be seen tucked under the lower terrace where the gentle splash of water in the swimming pool soothed their ears. Near them was the lemon garden, with beautiful metal chairs covered in thick white cushions carefully arranged in groups so as to provide instant comfort wherever wanted. Some had small tables shaded by white fringed parasols, just slightly moving in the light breeze, and the whisper of the wind gave the right amount of relief from the otherwise pressurising heat of the late afternoon. Liberty felt so fortunate that she could experience this intense beauty, so far removed from the real world, and she marvelled that once in a while man could get it right, and create a paradise on earth. She made a mental note that she must tell J-T and Bob to visit; they would adore it. Percy broke into her reverie.
    â€˜Damn the Eyeties, they are just too bloody familiar. The Ritz could teach them a thing or two. Next they will be telling us what to wear for dinner and what to eat.’
    Liberty knew full well they would do exactly that, or at least strongly recommend their special dishes. All Italians try to help visitors to realise in which direction they should be going, whether culinary, sartorially or any other which way, rather than sticking to their own known world. The manager would understand that as an Englishman, Percy could well order pasta for a main course, and would try to sway him tactfully towards it as a first course, to be followed by a little meat or fish, so she simply smiled and said, ‘But Percy, just look at this place – have you ever been anywhere quite so stunning? And when have you ever stayed at the Ritz?’
    Percy ignored the question and said, ‘Well, August the twelfth is pretty damned bearable if you are in the Highlands, when you have a gun in your hands.’
    â€˜I am sure the management could arrange some shootinghere, and they probably have game on the menu. Let’s just enjoy our drinks, shall we?’
    She sipped her white peach juice, and settled herself back in the cushions as she realised just how delicious her drink was. This was not only because she knew it should be so, but because she felt that this drink was truly tasty. She sat bolt upright. Then she recognised it had been subtly enhanced with lemon juice.
    â€˜What’s wrong?’ asked Percy, glancing up from his smartphone.
    â€˜Nothing, nothing,’ said Liberty, not daring to hope that pregnancy may indeed have been bringing back her taste buds. But she kept that fact to herself. She was so excited that her sense of taste could be returning in such a magical place, but would hate to make a thing of it, just in case it was simply the miraculous setting that had made her imagination run riot. ‘Cheers, darling, and thank you again. I feel so lucky to have you, although I do wish you didn’t work so hard, you are