The Better Woman (36 page)

Today, the driver had the airconditioning turned up to the max and it was deliciously cool in the car. Jodi gazed out the window. The landscape was familiar: she did this journey to the airport at least a few times a month. Usually her trips were to visit clients in other capital cities in the region. A few times a year, like this time, she was on her way home, to Sydney.

The car passed by a line of towering palm trees, planted along the divide in the road. The leaves formed rich green fans under the swollen grey sky. The heavens would open soon, making the surface steamy and dangerous for the dated cars. In this city, only the richest of the rich could afford to keep a vehicle. Jodi's hand
ran along the smooth leather of the backseat. This luxury was a rarity. A privilege.

The car pulled up outside the terminal and Jodi got out. The heat hit her face and stole her breath away. The driver lifted her bag onto the pavement.

‘Thank you.'

‘You're welcome. Have a good flight.'

The same exchange could have happened in Sydney, London or New York.

Little had Jodi known that she'd end up living in the heart of Asia when she'd moved to CorpBank in 1994. At the time London was suffering from a shortfall of experienced professionals and Jodi was getting a few calls a week from head-hunters. Her career with Invesco had gone as far as it could and she was looking for a change. Something about the CorpBank role caught her attention. It was nothing like what she was doing at Invesco, but the idea of selling bonds was exciting; she guessed it would be more immediate and dynamic than selling pension funds. She cashed in her Invesco shares, which had quadrupled in value, and sent the entire proceeds to Shirley for her place by the sea. Then she handed Brian Hughes her letter of resignation.

Jodi learned the ropes quickly and became very good at selling bonds. Good enough for CorpBank to accommodate her when she said she wanted to switch to selling equities. And good enough to transfer to the Singapore office where there were grand plans of expansion into Asia.

Jodi checked in at business class where the queues were significantly shorter than the other desks. She made her way to the Qantas Club lounge and whiled away some time with a strong coffee and a crossword. Every now and then, she unconsciously smiled at the thought of spending a quiet week in Sydney with
her family and friends. Her last trip, over the Christmas holidays, had been far too busy. There had been no time to engage in one of Grandma's meandering chats. Or to help around the house. Or to plunge into the waves at Dee Why beach. This holiday was going to be different.

The boarding call was announced over the intercom. The flight was en route from London, Singapore a stopover on the way. The transfer passengers were already seated when Jodi got on board. Their faces were grey and weary, and some of them looked enviously at the influx of new passengers who had to endure only half the journey.

Jodi pulled her bag along as she scanned the seat numbers overhead. While she should have been focused on finding her seat, her eyes were inexplicably drawn to a man in the left-hand aisle. There was something familiar about him. The way he bent his head as he read his book. The dark wavy hair. Her heart missed a beat. Was it him?

He looked up, as if he sensed her gaze. Their eyes met. It was him: the professor. Recognition flooded his face and his lips parted with astonishment.

‘May I see your boarding pass, please?'

It was a helpful hostess, who assumed that Jodi had stalled because she was having trouble finding her seat. Jodi distractedly showed her the boarding pass. The hostess ushered her further down the aisle and, checking with Jodi that she didn't need anything from her cabin bag, hoisted it into the overhead locker. Jodi sat down. Her face was flushed and her heart was beating erratically in her chest.

Am I ever going to outgrow that stupid crush on him?

The plane sat on the tarmac for another twenty minutes. The crew gave no explanation for the delay. Jodi stared at the back of
the seat in front. The fabric had an intricate pattern but it wasn't what she was seeing. She saw a young girl in a terrible mess; she saw a compassionate man who had pulled out all the stops to help; she saw him sitting at the back of the courtroom, in his dark office crammed with textbooks, and in his car the time he'd dropped her home.

Finally, just as the passengers were beginning to grow fidgety, the plane started to edge backwards. They were on their way. What would happen after take-off? Should she go over to him? Or wait for him to find her. It was eight years since that silly argument on the phone. What, if anything, had changed for him in those years? Where did he live? Sydney? London? Some other city? She wished she had thought to look in the seat next to him to see if he was travelling with someone.

The plane levelled out in the sky and the seatbelt sign switched off. Jodi stayed seated, staring fixedly ahead.

‘Jodi?'

Slowly, she turned her head. His grey eyes were quizzical. He wore a few extra lines around his mouth and some strands of grey in his dark hair, but he was even more handsome than she remembered.

‘Hello, Professor Phelps.' She was pleased to hear how composed she sounded. Her voice gave no indication of her pounding heart and sweaty palms.

‘This is an astonishing coincidence,' he exclaimed. ‘We run into each other like this after so long . . .' He indicated to the vacant seat on the opposite side of the aisle. ‘Is that free?'

Jodi hadn't seen anyone sit there during take-off. ‘I think so.'

He sat down and swung around to face her. The aisle offered little buffer from his powerful gaze.

‘What are you doing these days?' he asked. ‘Where do you work?'

Jodi's nervousness propelled her into giving a blow-by-blow account of her career. ‘I'm working for CorpBank in Singapore. I'm a director there. I manage the key accounts in the region – there's a lot of travel involved . . .'

She told him about her first job at ComBank and all the roles she'd had at Invesco. His gaze never wavered.

‘I always knew you'd do well,' he said, looking pleased.

‘Did you?'

A smile played on his lips. ‘I remember the first day I saw you in my office. So young and determined. I knew that you had it in you to succeed.'

Jodi felt flattered that he, who'd seen so many students over his illustrious career, should recall their first meeting.

‘Aren't you forgetting that I was there because I drank too much and passed out?'

His smile widened. ‘How could I forget that? But what I remember best was your parting shot: “The next time you hear of me, it will be because I've got the best marks.”'

Jodi remembered.

‘What about you, Professor?' she asked, finding the courage to meet his eyes. ‘Where are you working now?'

‘Call me James, please. I'm a management consultant in London. I left the academic world some years ago.'

Jodi was stunned. She couldn't imagine him working in commerce, or anywhere outside the university.

‘That must have been a big change.'

He shrugged. ‘My wife had divorced me, my career had stalled – it seemed like the right time to find a new direction.'

Jodi's eyes, with a will of their own, dropped to his hands. No wedding band.

‘Champagne?' enquired the hostess as she appeared from the galley with a flute-laden tray.

‘Yes,' they replied in unison.

They sipped from the glasses without clinking them together. This chance meeting was too disconcerting to sum up in a toast. They couldn't say ‘to old friends' because their relationship had not been one of friendship. Neither would a toast to the future be appropriate.

Silence descended for a few moments. With their careers already spoken about, Jodi wondered what they would discuss next.

‘Are you married? Have any children?'

It seemed they were on to the personal stuff already.

‘No. You?'

His face screwed up in a grimace. ‘No major relationships since my divorce. My children, Carla and Jack, are adults now. Luckily they don't seem to have been impacted too much by their warring parents . . .'

A debate began to rage inside Jodi's head. Should she tell him about Andrew? What could be gained from dredging up the painful memories? Yet, wasn't she belittling Andrew's memory if she omitted to mention him? It was seven years since his death. She'd had a few relationships since, but nothing that lasted more than a few months, and nothing that evoked a fraction of what she'd felt for Andrew.

‘I did have a major relationship,' she said quietly. ‘He was the reason I moved to London. He died. He was hit by a car. It took me a very long time to get over it . . .'

*

Grandma's house was different. Brighter. Jodi noticed it the moment she walked in.

‘You've had it painted.'

‘Yes.' Grandma looked pleased with herself. ‘I let the painter choose the colours. He was a lovely young man . . .'

The hallway and kitchen were now soft beige, complemented by the white trimmings and rosewood floorboards.

‘It's great, Grandma,' said Jodi enthusiastically. ‘It makes the place look really modern.'

The old lady filled the kettle with water and took two of her good cups from the top shelf of the cupboard. Jodi knew it would be of no use to offer to help. This was Grandma's territory. She made the tea.

‘You look tired, child. Didn't you get any shut-eye on the plane?'

Jodi smiled to herself. Grandma still thought of her as a child, and could tell when she'd been up all night.

‘I ran into someone I knew on the flight,' Jodi explained. ‘We chatted for most of the journey.'

They had connected. Not as teacher and student. Or father-figure and child. As adults. Equals.

James
, Jodi said now in her head.
James
.

The journey had flown by. They'd talked into the night, in lowered voices so as not to disturb the other passengers who were trying to sleep. They discussed the big issues, like poverty and social justice and the little trivialities of their everyday lives. Jodi felt that she was really getting to know James, what made him laugh, what made him tick, when the head stewardess announced that the plane was beginning its descent into Sydney.

‘I'd better go back to my seat and get my belongings,' said James. ‘I'll see you when we land.'

He was waiting when Jodi disembarked. They walked to the luggage carousel together. He asked which suitcase was hers and then lifted it clear of the moving black belt.

‘You go first,' he said at the taxi rank.

She paused. It was against all her instincts to leave him.

Ask to see him again
, her inner voice urged.

‘Are you coming or not?' the taxi driver enquired impatiently through the half-open window.

‘Take care of yourself, Jodi,' said James.

‘You too.'

She got into the cab.

Now Jodi had an ache inside. A fear that it would be another eight years before she saw him again. Or maybe never.

‘Your mother is working today,' said Grandma, setting the steaming cups down on the heavy oak table. ‘She wants you to call in to the deli at four when she finishes.'

Sarah knew her mother would suggest a coffee at one of the trendy new cafés on Dee Why's beachfront. Stirring her frothy cappuccino, Shirley would enquire about Jodi's job. Then she would tentatively ask if there was anyone special in her daughter's life.

What would she say if I told her how I feel about James?
Jodi wondered.

Shirley had been steadfastly single since Bob's death. Still an attractive woman, she dressed well and kept fit. She made the effort for herself, and certainly not with the aim of attracting men.

‘I don't need a man to be happy,' she declared whenever Jodi broached the subject.

Now, Grandma sliced some fruitcake to have with the tea.

‘Shirley's taken up yoga,' she said conversationally. ‘She does a lot of meditation these days. And Marlene's got into all this feng
shooey business. Only last week, she was trying to convince me to move my furniture around . . .'

Jodi laughed at her grandmother's mispronunciation of feng shui. Grandma cackled too, the mispronunciation obviously quite deliberate. The phone shrilled through their laughter and Grandma picked it up from the mount on the wall.

‘Yes?'

Grandma never said hello when she answered the phone. She didn't like to encourage prolonged phone conversations.

‘It's for you.'

Jodi took the phone from her outstretched hand, thinking it was perhaps her mother, or Alison.

‘Jodi, it's James.' She shivered at the sound of his voice. ‘I should have asked you earlier – I don't know why I didn't – but would you have dinner with me? I know you must be busy – after all, you're only home for a week – and I'll understand if you can't fit it in –'

‘Yes,' Jodi cut in, a smile lighting up her face. ‘Yes, I'd love to have dinner with you.'

When she hung up she noticed that Grandma had an odd look on her face.

‘That was the friend I met on the plane,' she explained and took a calming sip of her tea. Her heart kept missing beats. It was alarming. Exciting.

I'm having dinner with James. Tomorrow night.

‘I recognised the voice.' Grandma's tone was solemn and all signs of her earlier mirth had disappeared. ‘Quite distinctive. He phoned this house many years ago. The professor . . .'

‘Yes.'

‘You're treading on dangerous ground, child.'

‘I'm a big girl now,' Jodi smiled. ‘You keep forgetting that.'

*

The restaurant was one of the city's best. Their table looked out over the rippled black water of the Harbour, the food and service superb. Unfortunately, James didn't seem to be very hungry or talkative. He spent a lot of time staring out the window, lost in his thoughts.