The Better Woman (40 page)

‘Sit!' She commanded and, reluctantly, he did as she asked. ‘Now, let's have a talk. I have certain ideas about how things should be done around here. Some basic rules . . .'

‘Like what?' he asked, and pointedly looked at his watch.

‘Rule number one: we work as a team. Valuations, market research, and all the other departments, are there to be consulted. The more you consult, the less likely you'll make a multimillion dollar mistake –'

‘But I
knew
those bonds were undervalued,' he interrupted.

She cut in just as quickly. ‘As far as I'm concerned, you know
nothing
until you've consulted with the right people . . . Rule number two: we act and speak like professionals.'

‘I am professional!'

‘Raising your voice is
not
professional.'

‘Everybody yells and carries on,' he claimed. ‘It's what investment banking is all about.'

‘Maybe other banks,' Jodi tightened her mouth, ‘but not CorpBank and
certainly
not my division.'

He shrugged with thinly veiled impatience. ‘If you say no yelling, then no yelling. You're the boss.'

His words lacked any kind of sincerity.

‘Which brings me to rule number three.' Jodi stared him in
the eye. ‘
I am indeed your boss
. And I expect respect. Don't forget that again. Understood?'

Finally, the penny dropped and he realised that his job was on the line. Suddenly, he looked rather vulnerable.

‘Understood.'

Jodi spent the next few hours on administrative tasks that she could have easily delegated to her assistant. She was procrastinating, avoiding going home. Her office had every comfort: a fridge with an ice dispenser, a flat-screen TV, and a luxurious two-seater lounge, making it all too easy to stay longer than she should.

She switched on the TV to catch the news.

‘The Irish pound ceased to be an independent currency at the start of 1999 with an irrevocably fixed exchange rate to the Euro, then a virtual currency, and all the other currencies of the participating member states. However, the general public are only now coming to terms with the fact that the notes and coins will no longer be accepted as legal tender from 1 January 2002 and the Euro will become real. The extent of the change covers the conversions of all bank balances, ATM machines, and ensuring that the retailers at the frontline of the conversion are properly equipped . . .'

Jodi listened attentively to the Sky News broadcast. The change didn't stop at Ireland. France, Germany, Italy, Spain and Netherlands were in it too, a marriage of countries, for better or worse. Jodi believed that the United Kingdom was making a massive mistake by staying out. The benefits of a single currency were widely documented in terms of trade, transparency of costs, macroeconomic stability and currency stability. Sterling would be the odd one out in the playground – it had already hit
a fifteen-year low against the dollar. When would everyone put their sentimentality to one side and see that the Euro was in the best economic interests of the country?

Shortly before seven, Jodi's mobile began to ring. She knew it was James, wondering where she was.

‘Yes?'

‘Your mother just phoned.'

He sounded uptight. Good! Last night's argument had chinked his armour.

‘I'll give her a call from here.'

Jodi looked at her clock and worked out the time difference: 10 am in Sydney, an unusual time for Shirley to phone.

‘She's not at home,' said James. ‘She's at the hospital. It's your grandmother . . .'

Fear seized Jodi's heart. ‘What? What's happened to Grandma?'

‘She's had a stroke, Jodi.' James's voice was heavy with sympathy. ‘Shirley's not sure if she'll make it . . .'

‘Of course she'll make it,' Jodi insisted frantically. ‘Of course she will. I'll go there, to the hospital, to Sydney . . .'

Already she was logging out of her computer.

‘I'll see if there's a flight available tonight,' James offered.

A few minutes later, jacket and bag in hand, Jodi ran out on the street and waved madly at an approaching taxi. He pulled over and she climbed in the back.

‘Chiswick first,' she told him breathlessly. ‘You'll need to wait while I pick up my bag, then it's on to Heathrow – and please hurry.'

James had managed to find an available seat on a British Airways flight, and had packed some of Jodi's clothes in a travel bag.

‘Do you want me to come with you?' he asked as she rushed around the apartment. ‘There's another free seat that I could reserve . . .'

‘No. It's okay.'

She didn't want him there. Shirley would see straight away that things were strained between them and Grandma had always disapproved.

James didn't argue. He picked up her bag and walked her to the waiting taxi.

‘Call me when you get there,' he leaned to kiss her cheek, ‘and we'll talk about things when you get back . . .'

What things?
she thought irritably as the taxi sped off.
Hadn't he said all that he wanted to say? Why reiterate his position? Was he afraid that she was still harbouring some hope?

Business class was booked out and James had got her a seat in economy. Unfortunately, it wasn't an aisle or a window seat. She was stuck in the middle, a man on either side, one with unpleasant body odour and the other bulging out of his seat. She closed her eyes, feigning sleep. Memories replayed behind her lids: Grandma sitting in the middle of family gatherings with her stick between her legs, chastising a grandchild here and there for some perceived misdemeanour, moments later defending the same child against an irate parent; Grandma standing in the witness box, shoulders back, squaring up to the judge and, later on, talking strategy with Prue as if she'd been dealing with criminal lawyers all her life; Grandma trying to impress Andrew with the afternoon tea charade, pretending to be lady of the manor rather than the tough old broad that she was.

Please, Grandma, please be okay. Please don't give in
.

Guilt dulled the vividness of Jodi's memories. Two years had passed since she'd last seen Grandma. London was too far away,
too inconvenient for nipping back to Sydney. They'd spoken on the phone often enough, but that was little consolation now.

Damn James for asking me to move to London
.
I should have stayed in Singapore. Close by
.

The cab in Sydney was white to London's black. Jodi asked the driver to take her straight to Mona Vale Hospital. He smiled, happy with the big fare he was about to earn. Jodi sat in the back seat and willed every red light to turn green. She didn't dare ring ahead to Shirley to let her know she was on her way. She was afraid that her mother would say it was too late.

Jodi enquired at the hospital's reception where to go. She followed the directions up a creaking lift and along a drab corridor. She remembered that there had been talk of knocking down the hospital when she was last home. It didn't inspire a great deal of confidence to think of Grandma's life being dependent on doctors and nurses who didn't know what their future might hold.

Jodi pushed open the wide door to Grandma's room. Shirley sat on the far side, bleary-eyed, but signature red lipstick perfectly applied. She came around the bed and held Jodi tight.

‘Alone?' she asked.

‘Too much short notice for James to get on the flight,' Jodi lied.

She kissed Grandma's wrinkled cheek. It felt cool under her lips. The old woman was lying in a sea of white: the bed linen, her nightgown and the shock of hair around her head. Her skin was translucent, her eyes closed and her mouth slightly ajar.

‘She's asleep most of the time,' Shirley explained. ‘Too weak to be awake.'

Jodi pulled up a seat, made of hard blue plastic, and sat on Grandma's other side. She and Shirley talked across the bed in whispers.

‘I'm so glad you got here . . .'

‘I was lucky. Another time of the day and I would have had to wait a lot longer for a flight.'

‘She collapsed at home. Marlene found her.'

‘Was she there long?'

‘No, thank goodness.'

‘Has she been able to talk?'

‘A little. She's been asking about you.' Shirley stifled a yawn. ‘It's been a long twenty-four hours. We've kept a vigil the entire time . . .'

‘Why don't you go downstairs and get yourself a coffee,' Jodi suggested.

‘Yes. I think I will. Can I bring anything back for you?'

‘No, thanks.'

Shirley closed the door softly on her way out.

‘Just you and me, Grandma,' Jodi said to the old lady. ‘Gosh, you should see the view from here.'

The window gave a panoramic view of Mona Vale beach. In the distance, children played on the orange sand and surfers rode inside the curl of towering waves. Closer, a golf buggy bumped across the rolling course, the green separated from the beach by a thick layer of low-lying bush. It was a spectacular view, worth millions and millions of dollars. Was that the real reason they wanted to knock down the hospital?

Grandma's eyes flickered open.

‘You're here,' she said faintly.

‘Yes.'

‘I was hanging on for you . . .'

‘Don't say things like that.'

‘I know my time's up, child.'

‘Don't be silly – you have years left in you yet.'

Grandma shook her head very slightly in disagreement. ‘The house . . . the house is yours, child, I'm leaving it to you . . .'

Jodi felt tears well in her eyes. ‘I don't need it, Grandma. I have plenty. Give it to one of the other grandchildren.'

‘It's yours.' Her voice, though weak, was insistent. ‘No matter what big city you live in, you'll always have a home to come back to.'

Tears slipped down Jodi's face. ‘Thank you, Grandma. I'm sorry I haven't been back to see you recently . . .'

‘No regrets, now. I know that you love me – you're here, aren't you?'

She drifted away, back to sleep. Shirley returned shortly after. Then Marlene and her children came in, followed by Jodi's uncles. They sat around the bedside, three generations of family, ensconcing Grandma in a circle of love until she passed peacefully away.

The ultimate job

Sarah missed Tim, but not as much as she thought she would. He phoned every few days. She told him she still didn't know what she wanted. That wasn't entirely true.

She could hardly tell him that she felt as though a dead weight had been lifted from her shoulders now that she had no immediate need to think about babies. She could hardly admit that life was much simpler without the stressful commutes up and down to Cork. Yes, she was lonely. But loneliness was like an old friend who had been around long before Tim. Maybe it was her destiny to be alone. Maybe Tim had been nothing but a temporary aberration from the way things were meant to be.

The phone on her bedside unit rang and rang until she opened her eyes.

‘Hello,' she muttered into the receiver, her voice thick with sleep.

‘Sarah! It's Denise.'

Sarah rubbed her eyes and sat up in bed. She and Denise spoke regularly, but it was usually prearranged, and not at one in the morning. Something big must be afoot.

‘I know it's late at night over there,' said Denise, her voice urgent. ‘But I need to tell you something that can't wait.'

‘What?' Sarah asked, all sorts of thoughts rushing through her head.

‘A position has come up, honey. The most
perfect
position for you.'

Sarah's heart began to beat a little faster. ‘What position?'

‘My job: CEO of EquiBank.'

‘
You're leaving?'

‘Yes.'

‘To do what?'

‘To kick back and enjoy all the money I've earned.'

Sarah was stunned into silence. She couldn't imagine the bank without Denise. She couldn't imagine Denise without the bank.

‘Your grassroots trading background makes you ideal for this job, Sarah. You started out at exactly the same place as me – the board will like the similarities between us – they'll know what they're getting . . .'

Sarah's brow creased in concentration. ‘Am I the only candidate being considered?'

‘You know the go, Sarah. The board likes to have a choice when it comes to a top-level position like this. A specialist headhunting firm has already been engaged to find other suitable candidates. But that doesn't change the fact that you're on the inside track . . .'

Denise's voice became hurried and Sarah could tell she had something pressing she needed to attend to.

‘Thanks for calling me, Denise,' she said, her mind already
preoccupied as it began to weigh up this unexpected turn of events. ‘I would appreciate if you could ask your assistant to send me through the details of the interview process.'

‘Of course,' Denise responded. ‘I have to go. But we'll talk again soon.'

Sarah didn't sleep a wink for the rest of the night. Being CEO of EquiBank was the ultimate achievement and she was immensely flattered that Denise believed she was ready for it.

Could I handle such a massive promotion? Could I successfully leapfrog from the Irish subsidiary to worldwide operations? Yes, I think I could. This is what I'm good at – banking, business – it's the personal stuff I suck at, like being a wife
.

In her head, Sarah nailed out her terms of acceptance: the salary, the bonus and the relocation package. Carried away by the adrenalin of her ambition, she didn't pay much heed to her conscience.

What about Tim?

He has no desire to live in New York again
.

And even if he did, a baby would be out of the question with such a demanding job
.