The Better Woman

by Ber Carroll

  ‘We’re designing a portfolio of institutional pension funds that will compete favourably in the market,’ Gretel told Jodi after the initial announcement had been made. ‘The funds will be designed by a product-development project team. You – because of your unit pricing experience as well as your aptitude for process change – have been selected as a senior lead in the project.’

  ‘How senior?’ Jodi asked.

  ‘Reporting to the project director. Essentially, you’ll be second-in-command in the most significant strategic project in this company since my time here.’

  With Gretel’s service period closing in on the twelve-year mark, that was no small statement.

  ‘Will I still be able to take my holiday?’ Jodi asked, though she already knew from the urgency in Gretel’s tone what the answer would be.

  Gretel shook her head. ‘The pension funds must be ready for April, the new financial year. Work will have to start immediately.’

  ‘Have I got time to think it over?’

  ‘No.’

  ‘Can I turn it down?’

  Gretel glared. ‘Certainly – if you don’t give a toss about your career.’

  Gretel had worked too long in the hard-nosed investment management world to know when she was being unreasonable. Even her stance, hands on hips and legs apart, was uncompromising.

  ‘I’ll have to take the risk with my career, then,’ Jodi answered evenly. ‘I made a promise to my grandmother, and, by all accounts, this trip is important for my healing process. Sorry.’

  Gretel shrugged. ‘Your decision.’

  For Jodi it was a calculated risk. She was sure that Gretel would come round and hold the job open until she came back.

  ‘It’s real silk,’ Grandma said as she rubbed the scarf between her callused forefinger and thumb.

  ‘Yes,’ Jodi affirmed. ‘I got it in Harrods.’

  ‘You shouldn’t waste your money.’

  ‘It wasn’t a waste.’

  Jodi had woken at dawn. She’d stayed in bed, enjoying the feeling of being back in her old room. Then she’d heard her grandmother moving about: the old lady started her day with the birds. The shuffling footsteps and pottering sounds from the kitchen had lulled Jodi back into a light sleep that lasted till midmorning.

  ‘Your present is there – it’s the big one.’ Grandma used her stick to point towards the fake Christmas tree with its bald-looking branches and tawdry baubles.

  Grandma looked well. Her hair was whiter and her face thinner, but her eyes were as alert as ever.

  Jodi knelt in front of the tree. Grandma had a dozen or so presents under there, all neatly wrapped and labelled. The rest of the family were coming to Christmas lunch and she had ensured nobody would be forgotten.

  The gift with Jodi’s name was large and heavy to lift. She tore back the wrapping.

  ‘It’s lovely,’ she exclaimed when she saw the oval-shaped serving platter. ‘But I’m not sure I’ll be able to get it back to London in one piece.’

  The old lady’s face fell. ‘I was hoping you wouldn’t be going back there . . .’

  Jodi laughed, trying to make light of her grandmother’s naivety. ‘I’ve just got a big promotion, I have to go back.’

  The promotion wasn’t quite in the bag, but Jodi was fairly sure it would be hers when she got back.

  ‘Life’s not all about work and promotions,’ said Grandma plainly.

  ‘True,’ Jodi felt a pang of pain but kept a smile on her face, ‘but work helps me keep going.’

  Grandma wasn’t going to give up easily. ‘You have a family who loves you here –’

  She was interrupted by the sound of the front door being opened.

  ‘Happy Christmas,’ Shirley shouted out in a chirpy voice. Her heels clacked down the hall and she appeared in the back room wearing a white and red summer dress and glossy lipstick. Her hands clutched bulging carrier bags of food for lunch.

  ‘You look great, Mum,’ Jodi remarked.

  ‘Thanks.’ Her face took on a self-conscious expression. ‘I thought I should make an effort at least once a year. Did you sleep okay?’

  Despite the longhaul flight, the emotional reunion at the airport, and the catching up that had gone on late into the night, Jodi had slept surprisingly well. ‘Yes. Better than I have in ages.’

  Shirley went to dump the carrier bags in the adjoining kitchen and Jodi got up to help.

  ‘Where’s Marlene?’

  ‘She’s running late,’ Shirley replied, opening the door of Grandma’s fridge and frowning when she saw how little free space there was. She began to rearrange the contents. ‘She couldn’t prise the toys from the younger ones and the older lot are glued to some computer game.’

  ‘Why don’t you move in here with Grandma?’ Jodi asked in a low voice, so the old woman wouldn’t hear from the next room.

  Shirley giggled into the fridge. ‘We’d kill each other, that’s why. No, I’m saving for a deposit on a place of my own – a nice apartment not far from the sea. I was hoping I’d be able to buy something this year, but the prices keep going up and up and up.’

  Jodi took the perishable items from the bags and handed them to Shirley for fitting in the fridge. She wanted to buy the apartment for her mother. She owed it to her: a modern, two-bed apartment with a large balcony and sea views; a replacement for the house in Lewis Street: a home. She just needed another few promotions to make it happen.

  Alison had acquired a live-in boyfriend while Jodi was away. His name was Jack. He was a massage therapist.

  ‘I can’t wait till you meet him,’ she grinned excitedly when she met Jodi alone for a drink. ‘I’ve told him all about you. Well,’ she pulled a face, ‘not everything, of course.’

  They were perched on bar stools in a trendy inner-city hotel, the kind of place Alison would have once made fun of. Alison looked every bit as sophisticated as the rest of the clientele. Her hair, now a respectable shade of mahogany, had grown to shoulder length and her fingernails were painted a nonoffensive shell colour. She wore a V-neck top inside her two-piece trouser suit. Jodi wondered whether it was Jack, her new boyfriend, or her job, where she was now a manager, or a combination of both that had tamed her appearance so much.

  Later on in the night, when Alison invited her back to her apartment, she got to meet Jack and find out for herself. He was a hunk of a man with hands so large that Jodi feared they would inadvertently crush rather than massage his poor clients. Alison, tipsy from a few too many beers, gave him a wobbly kiss and his big muscled arm steadied her against his waist.

  ‘Jodi, can I get you a drink?’ he asked, his voice surprisingly soft for a man of his size.

  ‘I’ll have a red wine, if you have it.’

  ‘Me too!’ Alison chimed.

  He looked down at her, his face taking on a look of mock sternness. ‘You’ll regret it in the morning . . .’

  Alison giggled. ‘You know me – play now, pay later!’

  He laughed, squeezed her waist, and went off to get the drinks.

  ‘Well, what do you think?’ Alison asked, plopping herself down on the sofa. She immediately checked herself. ‘No, I didn’t mean to ask that. Because it doesn’t matter what you, or anyone else, think. Just me and Jack.’

  Jodi answered her anyway. ‘I think he’s big and handsome, with an emphasis on the BIG, and I think that he obviously loves you as much as you love him.’ Then she added, ‘You look so different, your hair, your clothes . . .’

  Alison’s reply was considered. ‘Work demands a certain standard. I’m management now – have to look the part. But outside of work I don’t need to make a statement. There’s no need to do the gothic look or have a nose ring – Jack gets who I am no matter what I wear.’

  Happy as she was for Alison, Jodi’s own loss suddenly seemed unbearable. Tears, which she had held back through all the Christmas festivities and the well-meaning enquiries of her relatives, suddenly came gushing out.

  ‘Oh, Jo
di.’ Alison hugged her tightly. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to rub your face in my happiness.’

  Jodi tried to tell her it wasn’t her fault but found it hard to utter anything remotely coherent. She cried for the memories of last Christmas. She cried because it was a brand new year and all she could see ahead was loneliness. She cried because she feared she would never again find someone who would get who she was. She didn’t notice when Jack came back with their drinks. Or the look of concern he shared with his girlfriend before making himself scarce.

  Jodi watched Sue from afar as she organised the little nippers for the flag race. The kids were lying down on the sand. At the sound of Sue’s whistle they scrambled to their feet and their short legs raced up the beach, sand billowing in their wake. At the halfway mark some of the children were already well ahead as they grabbed their flag, nothing but a length of garden hose, and turned back. The slowest children found there was no flag left for them to take and had to return empty-handed and, devastatingly, eliminated. Sue called encouragement to each child as they crossed the finish line, managed to keep tears at bay and lined up the kids who’d made it to the next round.

  This time the fact that there were fewer flags than kids went less smoothly. A little girl turned back against the flow to double check. The other kids bumped into her and there was a pile-up on the sand.

  ‘Need help?’ Jodi asked, coming forward.

  Sue’s face was a picture of surprise before it broke into a big smile. ‘Jodi! Your mum mentioned you were coming back.’ A few of the children were wailing and she paused to pat some shoulders. ‘Yes, I do need help. Can you organise an activity for those out of the race?’

  ‘Sure.’

  Jodi kicked off her flip-flops and grabbed a ball from Sue’s box of equipment.

  ‘Okay, kids.’ She smiled at the group of young children, some with tear-stained faces. ‘My name’s Jodi. Enough of racing, we’re going to play ball. Who wants to get wet?’

  ‘Me,’ they all screeched in reply.

  She lined them up in the shallow water and played some simple throwing games. Soon the children were laughing and splashing as they dived to catch the ball, their earlier disappointment at being eliminated from the flag race forgotten.

  An hour flew by before Sue called an end to the activities. Jodi’s shorts were soaking and sand was caked to her bare legs. She felt good, though. Better than she had for a long, long time.

  She borrowed a sarong from Sue and they went across the road for a coffee. They managed to get a seat outside one of the buzzing cafés and they made small talk in the long wait to be served.

  ‘How does it feel to be back?’ asked Sue when she finally had a coffee cupped in her hands.

  Jodi spooned the froth from her cappuccino. Rich and soft, it melted on her tongue. She spooned some more and realised that the cappuccinos in London were no match.

  ‘The same and not the same,’ she answered. ‘The people, the perfect weather, the beach today – they’re all wonderfully familiar. But me, I’m different.’ She paused, sipped from her cup, and then added darkly, ‘Very different.’

  Sue reached over and covered Jodi’s hand with hers. Her freckled face was deeply sympathetic as she said, ‘I’m so sorry about Andrew. It was such an awful tragedy . . .’

  Her voice faded. Jodi didn’t say anything. She had a lump in her throat that she didn’t trust. Conversation babbled on around them as they sat in silence; women in beach dresses, men in singlets and shorts, children with ice-creamed faces, all with so much to say. Summer permeated the air. Not heavy and humid, like in London, but breezy and carefree.

  Yes, I do miss this, Jodi thought. The warmth of the sun on my skin, the feeling of sand between my toes . . .

  She came back to the present. A man had stopped by their table and was looking at her quizzically.

  ‘I know your face,’ he mused. ‘I just can’t place it.’

  She shrugged as if he must be mistaken but in her mind’s eye she could see it coming to him later on. He’d snap his fingers, startling his wife, and exclaim, ‘I’ve got it! She’s the girl from the court case – you know, the one who stabbed her stepfather.’

  That was one of the few benefits London had to offer: anonymity. Jodi realised that she had lived with a desire to be anonymous, to disappear, for most of her life: during her parents’ divorce, while she’d lived with Bob, the court case and its aftermath, even today with this man who thought he knew her.

  Who is Jodi Tyler? Other than the girl who wants to disappear?

  She didn’t know. All she knew was that London was where she needed to be. For now.

  Chapter 26

  1992

  Gretel did hold the job open and Jodi threw herself into it wholeheartedly when she got back to London. Her new boss, Ian Flynn, had very definite ideas and such a strong personality that Gretel seemed like a pussycat in comparison. His deliver-or-die style was good for the project but didn’t win him any popularity points with his staff.

  ‘What he gained in the good-looks department, he lost in personality,’ Rachel, one of the juniors, complained.

  He was certainly good-looking: wiry brown hair, a strong angular face and intense blue eyes. He was also very good at his job, with a knack for thinking outside the box.

  ‘Rachel, have you tried asking the marketing team to see if that feature is totally necessary?’

  Of course Rachel, whose attention was more focused on her social life than her job, hadn’t thought to ask marketing.

  ‘I didn’t think that was part of my job,’ she replied, a sigh in her voice.

  Ian’s expression became harder than it already was. ‘Well, if you don’t expand your limited conception of what your job entails, then I’m afraid you won’t have one for very long.’

  Rachel, panicked at the thought of losing her job and not being able to afford London’s social scene, jumped to her feet at the warning. Ian Flynn was not one to make idle threats.

  Jodi learned a lot in her quest to meet his exacting standards. She learned not to go to him with half-cooked ideas. She learned not to escalate issues until she had turned every stone in the attempt to resolve them. She learned that the IT department always said no at first, but if she persevered she could almost get what she wanted from them. All in all, she enjoyed the satisfaction of creating something new and was grateful to be preoccupied with the project as the anniversary of Andrew’s death came closer.

  Thanks to Ian’s meticulous management, the new pension system was right on schedule as it moved from development to testing. The project team waited with bated breath while the testers checked the functionality and viability, every body only too aware that this was make or break for the April deadline. Thankfully, the system needed nothing more than a little tweaking here and there. Invesco was now perfectly positioned to take the pension market by storm.

  With the project entering its final phase, Jodi’s job changed and took on more of a marketing emphasis. Ian was regularly asked to present the new pension products to blue-chip companies with a view to securing their investment. Jodi helped put the presentations together and went along to provide technical support that Ian rarely needed. During the presentations, Ian exuded charm as he tried to sell the unique design of the products. Jodi saw a completely different side to him.

  She found that she, too, liked being face to face with customers. The more experience she acquired, the more Ian allowed her to be involved. He was an excellent role model and coached her on when to push and when to pull back. Together they brought their two-part act to boardroom after boardroom, doing their level best to win their first client.

  Finally their efforts paid off: the board of IBM’s pension fund agreed to invest. Other large companies were sure to follow suit. Ian was euphoric.

  ‘This calls for champagne,’ he declared to the team and Rachel’s face brightened at the thought of a night out on the company.

  In truth, a night out was the last thing
Jodi felt like. Tomorrow, 10 April, was the anniversary of Andrew’s death. Her mind kept drifting back. The police on her doorstep. The hospital afterwards. The all-too-vivid images of him being thrown into the air, crashing down, dead on impact.

  ‘Jodi?’

  Ian was staring. He’d obviously noticed that she wasn’t as enthusiastic as the others about celebrating their success.

  ‘You are going to join us, aren’t you?’

  His tone implied that he wouldn’t take no for an answer. Jodi was suddenly sick of him and his bullying ways.

  ‘No, I’m not, Ian.’

  Drinking champagne on the eve of Andrew’s anniversary was too much to ask.

  Ian frowned. ‘This is an important milestone for the team,’ he informed her in his iciest of tones.

  He had a point, of course. Securing IBM as a client was a major coup that guaranteed the long-term success of Invesco’s venture into the pension-fund market. Definitely a cause for celebration for the project team who had worked so hard to pull it off. If it wasn’t for the cold horrible truth that Andrew had been dead a whole year.

  ‘Sorry, Ian.’ Jodi reached for her jacket. She slipped it on and defiantly buttoned it up. ‘Hope you all have a good time.’

  The next morning dawned with unexpected brightness. Jodi pulled back the curtains to reveal a perfect blue sky that urged her outside. She followed its calling, dressing in casual jeans and a warm sweater, and walked a familiar route to a nearby park. A fresh breeze fanned her face but it wasn’t cold. At the park flowers had begun to blossom in an array of vibrant colours. Spring had, belatedly once again, arrived in London.

  Jodi sat on one of the weathered benches. She took deep breaths of the scented air as she watched the antics of the children playing around her. Surprisingly, there weren’t any of the usual squabbles and tantrums. Only smiles and rings of laughter. This wasn’t a day of sadness. It was a day of happiness, of new beginnings.

  Sitting on the bench, Jodi began to make some decisions. Firstly, it was time to make some friends in this lonely city. This would involve going out socially and letting other people into her life. Another change would have to be the Thursday-night rendezvous with Janice. Yes, they could still continue to meet, but somewhere public where they’d have to hold it together. Lastly, and most difficult of all, came the decision to move out of the maisonette.