The Better Woman (26 page)

The morning dragged on, the monotony broken only by a soggy trip to the bank to deposit the cheques. Jodi was on her way back to the office when she ran into Andrew again.

‘Sorry about earlier,' she said, pushing her damp hair back from her face.

‘I'm sorry too,' he mumbled. ‘I shouldn't have put you on the spot like that on Friday night. It wasn't fair.'

Jodi chewed her lip, the awkwardness rendering her speechless.

‘I came after you,' he said, staring down at her, ‘but you were nowhere to be seen.'

‘I –' The intensity of his gaze brought a blush to her face. ‘I took a detour, then I got a bus home.'

He slid his hands into his pockets and hunched his shoulders.

‘Will you go out with me again?'

It seemed that Andrew Ferguson didn't scare easily.

‘I really like you,' he added when she didn't respond.

It also seemed that he wore his heart on his sleeve.

He stared, waiting for her answer. It was a defining moment: one that Jodi knew would change the rest of her life.

‘Yes, okay,' she replied in a croaky voice.

They both realised that she'd have to tell him everything. So she did. In the Hilton Hotel, he with a lager, she with a glass of red wine, sitting on the hard wooden bar stools. Even though they'd only been there once before, it felt like a comfortingly familiar setting in which to bare her soul.

Jodi talked in a slow and measured manner about her father leaving, her mother marrying Bob, the letters that shadowed her teen years, the knife, the court case, the media. A weight lifted off her as she recounted details that no one else knew, trivia that was incidental to the court case but still impacted her daily life.

‘I have an aversion to the colour pink because of him – apparently the girlishness of it turned him on. So I got rid of everything that was pink – hair clips, bangles, sheets – made my room as sterile as possible. I thought it might keep him away.' She looked at Andrew's face, the softness of it, the boyishness. It was the polar opposite of Bob's. She needed that. ‘I still see his face in my head – the bulging eyes, the leer . . .'

‘What did the rest of your family think of him?' Andrew asked perceptively. ‘Did they like him?'

Jodi recalled the family barbecues and other get-togethers. ‘Yeah, I guess they did. Bob had his act down pat, always declaring how lucky he was to have Mum, kissing and cuddling her,
making a show of how much he doted on her. Grandma and the rest of the family were happy to see Mum happy . . .'

‘What about his family?'

Jodi grimaced. ‘Bob's parents died a long time ago and he didn't really keep in touch with his sister – not even Christmas cards – both too lazy to make the effort. Yet at the funeral and in court you'd swear Janine, that's his sister, had lost her right arm. All she could say was, “My brother didn't deserve an end like that”. Over and over she'd say the same thing, sobbing into a big dirty handkerchief. She loved the TV cameras outside the court – she was the only one who'd talk to the reporters. The rest of us tried to ignore them.'

It was very late when they left the Hilton. Jodi was exhausted, all talked out.

‘Now that you know everything, can we put it behind us and not discuss it again?' she asked quietly as they strolled towards the bus.

He squeezed her hand in his. ‘If that's what you want.'

Over the following months Jodi and Andrew became closer. They went for quiet drinks and never ran out of things to say. They went to the cinema, usually on Tuesdays when the tickets were half price, Andrew laughingly calling them cheapskates. And, as the weather became warmer, they went to the beach. At Andrew's encouragement, Jodi decided to lay an old ghost to rest and compete in the Ironwoman Series. She began to train, running at dawn, swimming at dusk. She didn't have anywhere near the same speed or agility she'd had when she was seventeen, but it felt gloriously good to be back, running barefoot on the sand, swimming through waves, in the club's family fold, with Sue as her coach, mentor and friend.

On the weekends Andrew came to watch and cheer her on. He was a distraction more than anything, but she loved having him there. When her training was finished, she would give him a surfing lesson. He was hopeless, had no sense of balance. Nevertheless, it became his favourite pastime, laughing uproariously when he got dunked, proud as punch on the rare occasions he managed to stand up on the board.

Jodi didn't expect it to happen so quickly: falling in love. She thought she'd be more guarded, slower to open up. But it wasn't like that at all.

‘Jodi . . .' Andrew began, one sunny October afternoon when they were laid out on their beach towels, the salt from the sea dried into their skin.

‘Yes,' she replied sleepily.

‘When are you going to introduce me to your family?'

She opened her eyes warily and raised herself up on her elbows. Andrew's brown eyes were waiting intently for her response.

She licked her dry lips, felt a taste of salt.

‘Gosh, I'm thirsty.' She reached into her backpack for her water bottle.

He watched her glug it back.

‘Finished avoiding the issue?' he enquired.

‘I'm not –'

‘Yes, you are,' he interrupted calmly. ‘What are you so afraid of?'

Jodi pulled her knees up, rested her chin on them, and answered him honestly. ‘Of you not liking them – or them not liking you. I don't want anything to ruin what we have.'

‘It's what normal couples do – meet the families.'

‘We're not normal,' she answered tersely, then corrected herself, ‘I mean
I'm
not normal.'

Andrew pushed her backwards so she was lying flat on the towel. He rolled on top of her, impervious to the curious glances of the sunbathers around them. He pulled a face that was meant to look fierce but, with his baby face, fell woefully short.

‘Right! I'm going to keep you here until you concede to my reasonable request.'

Laughing, she tried in vain to push him off.

‘Grandma can be a bit of a battleaxe . . . and Mum's paranoid after everything that happened . . .' she warned him.

‘Well, my family's not that crash hot either,' he answered.

‘They can't be as bad –'

‘Oh yes they can. Anyway, families are kind of a necessary evil. Especially when you love someone . . .'

Jodi's heart stopped.

Love? Does he mean it?

He saw the question in her eyes and became serious.

‘Yes, I do love you, Jodi Tyler.'

Jodi wrapped her arms around his neck and stared deep into his eyes.

‘I love you too,' she whispered.

Their lips met in a long sensuous kiss that caused some onlookers to tut disapprovingly and others to reminisce fondly about young love.

Grandma was nothing less than charming when she met Andrew. She dressed up in her best frock and chatted in a soft cultured voice that didn't sound at all like her usual broad tones.

‘My own parents were from Liverpool,' she told him confidingly. ‘They got the boat out – I was born here. Mother and Father never went back, never saw their families again. Of
course, you young folks can fly to and fro at the drop of a hat. Would you like a scone, Andrew?'

‘Yes, thank you.'

‘Jodi, can you pour Andrew's tea, please, dear?' Grandma asked.

Jodi held back a fit of the giggles and obediently reached for the teapot. Her grandmother, usually as tough as old boots, made an unlikely lady of the manor. Yet here she was, a splendid Devonshire tea laid out and a seemingly wide repertoire of polite conversation topics to while away the afternoon.

Shirley, on the other hand, didn't say much. For the first half-hour she sipped her tea and smiled absently on the occasions that Grandma stretched the truth. As a consequence, it brought a jolt to the conversation when she did find her voice.

‘How long are you here for, Andrew?'

‘A year in all,' he replied. ‘It'll be up in January.'

‘So, you're going home in the New Year then?'

‘Well . . .' Andrew looked a little uncomfortable. ‘Yes, I am.'

Grandma quickly smoothed over the awkwardness. ‘Won't it be lovely to see your family again?' she asked brightly, and then tried to persuade him to have another scone.

Later in the evening Jodi walked with Andrew to the bus stop.

‘I think your Grandma likes me,' he grinned.

‘She's smitten,' Jodi laughed. ‘I've never seen her like that before – the social butterfly – usually she's stamping her stick and keeping everyone in line.'

‘I don't think your mum is quite as smitten though.'

Jodi shrugged. ‘Oh, she's just worried that I'll get my heart broken when you disappear into thin air next January.'

Up until now they hadn't talked much about Andrew's return
home. It was out there, a dark cloud looming, but still far enough away to pretend it wasn't a problem.

Andrew stopped midstride and turned Jodi to face him.

‘I could have told your mother that I don't want to leave you . . . that I'd like you to come back with me . . .'

Jodi cocked her head. ‘Oh, really?'

‘Yes, but I thought I should ask you first . . .' He paused and affectionately swept a stray strand of blonde hair from her eyes. ‘So, will you come back to London with me, Jodi?'

She didn't need to think twice. ‘Yes, Andrew. Yes, I will.'

They kissed as though it was the first time. With tenderness and hope. Their future a blank page full of possibility.

‘I can't go until after the Ironwoman Series,' she said softly. ‘I've waited four years to compete in that competition.'

‘Of course,' he replied. ‘That's a given.'

With their commitment firmly in place, Jodi finally felt ready to take their relationship to the next level. Despite some very passionate moments, Andrew hadn't seen her naked and they hadn't made love. He'd been the proverbial gentleman and hadn't pushed the issue.

A week after Grandma's tea party, their bodies entwined on Andrew's sofa, their clothes half off and lips devouring each other, Jodi whispered to him that she was ready.

He stopped, looked down with desire-darkened eyes, and asked, ‘Are you sure?'

She nodded.

He seemed to need further reassurance. ‘I'm kind of scared,' he admitted hoarsely. ‘I don't want to make you remember –'

‘Ssh,' she put a finger to his lips, ‘all I'm thinking about right now is you.'

She wasn't telling the truth. Bob was on her mind. Of course, he was. But she was hoping that a normal sexual relationship would release the last stronghold that Bob had over her life.

With a slight tremor in his hands, Andrew unbuttoned her Levi's. Gently he edged the denim over her hips and she reached to undo his belt. Moments later they were fully naked. Andrew laid his body over hers and held her tightly against him. His body heat seared them together. Jodi felt an ache within her and, seeming to feel her need, his hand touched between her legs. His fingers breezed over her, tantalising, not enough.

‘I really need you . . .' she whispered, pressing hard against him.

‘We've lots of time,' he replied. ‘There's no rush.'

He didn't know it, but there was a rush. Jodi wanted to do it now, while thoughts of Bob had retreated.

But Andrew refused to hurry. He seduced with his hands and mouth until Jodi forgot time and the race against her memories. Finally, he braced against her hips and entered her fully. She caught her breath. Then followed his rhythm.

Afterwards, while she lay cocooned in his arms, she wondered at everything about him: his boyish good looks, his understated intelligence, his keenness to debate every topic under the sun, the way he loved the outdoors and had helped her to remember that she did too, the many ways he showed her how much he loved her. She'd heard Alison talk about boys who'd lied their way into her bed. Boys who played games and broke hearts. Jodi knew Andrew wasn't one of those guys. He didn't play games and his emotions were plain for all to see.

It's like I've struck gold
, she thought, then recoiled in horror as she recalled that was exactly what her mother used to say about Bob.

London, 1991

London in January was cold and unwelcoming, just like Andrew's family. His mother, Janice, lived with her second husband and stepdaughter in a suburb called Harrow.

‘You can stay until you find your own place,' she informed them in a curt voice. ‘But I don't want any long-term lodgers.'

Janice was openly keen for her children to leave the nest. However, Tracey, her stepdaughter, wasn't showing any such intentions. Janice felt she was going backwards with Andrew staying too, no matter how temporarily.

The two-storey house was identical to all the others in the street: white dashed walls and a bay window that jutted into a small concrete front yard. Andrew, carrying a suitcase in each hand, ascended the narrow staircase in the hallway and entered the first doorway on the landing. The square wallpapered room was not quite big enough for the double bed that was pushed up against the window.

‘Was this your bedroom?' Jodi took in the old-fashioned floral bedcover and the gilded doorknobs on the white wardrobe.

‘No.' He lifted one of the suitcases onto the bed. ‘I've never lived in this house. I moved out of home when I was eighteen. Mum married Simon the following year.'

‘Do you get along with Simon?' Jodi asked, wondering why she hadn't thought to question Andrew closer about his family before moving in with them. She'd known that his real father had died when he was ten, and that he'd acquired a stepfather and stepsister when his mother remarried. That was the sum of her knowledge until now.