The Better Woman (16 page)

‘My goodness!' he exclaimed when he had finished reading.

It was such a British thing to say that Jodi nearly laughed. Nearly, but for the fact she was so close to crying.

‘Was this in the newspapers? How did I miss it?'

‘My name was withheld,' she explained.

Understanding dawned on his face. ‘So there wouldn't be prejudice?'

He looked perplexed again. ‘But why on earth didn't you come and tell me?'

Jodi, her face on fire, looked down at her hands. ‘I didn't want anybody to know. I was ashamed . . .
embarrassed
. . .'

‘My dear, embarrassed is the very last thing you should be.'

Jodi felt a surprising spurt of anger at him. ‘How would you know? I don't want people to look at me and imagine what it was like –' She choked. She was in serious danger of crying, of humiliating herself even further.

‘I'm sorry,' he said softly. ‘I didn't mean to sound dismissive of your feelings.'

Jodi hung her head and tried to deny the tears that welled in her eyes. One or two escaped and crept stealthily down her face. It took her a few moments to find her composure.

‘Professor,' she began, ‘the problem is that even if you allow me to resit my exams I'm not sure that I can pass. I can't concentrate for more than a few minutes at a time, let alone complete a three-hour exam . . . I'm hoping there's some other way you can help me get into second year.'

‘Let me think it over,' he replied.

‘Thank you.'

As she stood up, she glanced at her watch: 6.40 pm.

‘Oh no!' Her hand flew to her mouth. ‘I forgot the time – my curfew – I'm going to be late.'

‘I'll drive you home,' he said, his voice firm and allowing no room for argument. ‘My car's right outside.'

Terrible thoughts ran through Jodi's head as they rushed outside to the professor's car. She'd unintentionally broken one of the conditions of her bail. Would she get caught out? Be sent back to prison? Would Grandma lose her house?

She felt sick at the thought of the possible consequences. She jumped into the car, buckled her belt and hardly spoke a word for the entire journey, other than to give the dean directions.

They pulled up outside Grandma's house as the clock on the dash turned over to 7.30 pm.

He touched her arm lightly. ‘Don't worry. The police aren't here waiting. Nobody's going to know.'

She didn't tell him that her bail officer phoned the house on occasion to make sure that she was at home.

‘I'll call you tomorrow to discuss your exams,' he said.

She nodded, thanked him, and hurried up the pathway to the house. Grandma had the door open before she got there.

‘Where were you, child?' she asked, her voice sharp and anxious. ‘Didn't you know the time?'

Jodi burst into tears. ‘Sorry, Grandma. Did they phone?'

‘No – lucky for you!'

‘I'm so sorry. The bus was delayed getting into the city. I was so worried about being late for the professor that I forgot all about the curfew.'

Grandma ushered her inside the door. ‘Well, you're home now and hopefully there's no harm done. I've saved your dinner for you.'

Jodi wasn't hungry but Grandma's fussing made her feel safe and reassured almost at once.

As promised, the professor phoned the following day. Grandma answered.

‘Yes?' She listened. Then she handed Jodi the receiver. ‘It's Professor Phelps.'

Jodi snatched the phone and gestured Grandma away. ‘Hello, Professor.'

‘Hello, Jodi.' His voice sent a shiver down her spine. ‘I've given your situation much thought. It appears that the assignments you missed last August and September had a significant impact on your overall results. Hence, I've arranged a workshop for each assignment. The relevant lecturer will sit with you, one on one, and discuss the topic in question. At the end of the session he will ask you some basic verbal questions to confirm your understanding. On that basis, I will be satisfied to deem that you have passed your first year.'

Jodi breathed a sigh of relief. ‘Thank you, Professor.'

‘My faculty stands by its students. It's a matter I take great pride in.'

‘Thank you,' she said again.

‘When is your court hearing?' he asked after a brief pause.

‘Sometime in June or July.'

‘Goodness, these things take so long to proceed. Well, I can only assume that this coming academic year will also be very disruptive for you.'

‘Yes.' Jodi bit her lip. ‘My lawyer warned me the media will be all over the trial. Once it starts, my name will no longer be withheld.'

The dean was unfazed. ‘Let's ensure we manage the situation better this time and make whatever arrangements necessary for you to pass your second year.'

Jodi attempted a joke. ‘You never know, I may be studying long-distance from prison.'

‘That's not even remotely funny,' he retorted.

The clerk of the peace fixed the date for the trial: 15 July 1987. Once the date was set, time passed much like a ticking bomb.

‘I'm organising for you to be assessed by a psychiatrist,' Prue announced one day on the phone. ‘He's going to ask about your history – your childhood, your relationship with Bob, all the stuff you've told me already.'

Jodi had a number of discussions with the psychiatrist in his inner city rooms. He was kind and nonjudgemental. It was easy to talk to him.

Prue read his report and was pleased with it. She wrote to the prosecution to advise them that she would be relying on it in the defence. The prosecution wrote back and requested that Jodi talk to their psychiatrist.

‘Not again!' Jodi protested to Prue.

‘Look, I know how you feel. But it helps our case if you consent to talk to their guy.'

The prosecution's psychiatrist also had rooms in the inner city. The similarity ended there. He was a brittle man with an irritating cynical smile. Jodi found it much harder to open up to him.

Shirley put the house in Lewis Street up for sale and accepted the first offer that was made, not seeming to care that it was well below the market value.

‘Are you going to buy somewhere new?' Jodi asked.

‘I don't think we'll see much of the proceeds,' she replied. ‘The legal fees are building up.'

‘I'm sorry, Mum.'

‘Don't be sorry, darl. That house brought me no happiness in the end. I'm glad to see it go. And Prue is worth every cent.'

Despite Shirley's assurances, Jodi felt enormously guilty. The guilt gnawed at her concentration, as did the worry about the trial. She began her second year at university much like she'd finished her first year: badly. The dean promised to organise more workshops and told her not to worry. But she did.

The week before the trial, Tony picked Jodi up and took her for a drive. He parked the car by Narrabeen Lake and cut the engine.

‘Grace and I have talked . . .' he began. ‘It's not fair on her or Cory to be caught up in this . . . they didn't ask for it . . .'

‘Neither did I,' Jodi murmured.

‘Of course . . . The thing is, we don't want Cory exposed in any way to the trial – he's only seven years old.'

‘So what are you saying, Dad?'

‘I'm saying that I think it's best I don't get involved – that I keep my distance – for Cory's sake. I'm sorry.'

Jodi had an epiphany as she sat in the silence that followed. Tony didn't have the strength of character to juggle her needs and Cory's; he was too weak, too shallow. He'd been struggling
even before Bob's death. She should put him out of his misery, cut him loose.

‘I understand, Dad. Can you drive me back now?'

He did, and their goodbye had an unmistakeable finality.

The day of the trial finally dawned. Jodi rose after a sleepless night. Apprehension rolled in her stomach, but she did feel a degree of relief that the waiting and dreading would soon come to an end. In three weeks, four at most, she would know what her future entailed. Twelve strangers would decide.

‘The eyes of the jurors will be on you at all times,' Prue had warned. ‘Twelve pairs of them, watching,
assessing
. You should glance over at them every so often, show them that you have nothing to hide – but don't stare. For the most part you should be looking at who is speaking, be it the judge or a witness or whoever.'

Prue had also given an outline of what to expect the first morning at court.

‘The Crown prosecutor will present an indictment against you, to which you will reply “not guilty”. The jury will be empanelled. Then the Crown prosecutor will make her opening statement.'

Jodi found it hard to believe that in less than two hours she would be pleading not guilty. She began to dress in the white cotton blouse and black trousers her mother had purchased for the occasion. She gathered her hair in a conservative knot and purposely refrained from putting on make-up or jewellery. Studying her reflection, she tried to see herself through the eyes of the jury.

Who is Jodi Tyler? A killer? Or a victim?

The mirror showed a young girl, defenceless and scared.

Grandma, Shirley and Jodi all piled into Marlene's station
wagon. They set off to the city, a dead silence in the car. What was there to say? Knuckles white, Marlene gripped the steering wheel; she wasn't used to rush-hour traffic. She scratched the wing of the car as she parked in the high-rise car park across from the barrister's chambers. Grandma offered to pay for the repairs.

Jeremy Horton, the barrister, and Prue were waiting in the chambers. Jodi had met Jeremy a number of times. He was a nice man, albeit a little abrupt. Today he wore a black gown and an imposing grey wig. He looked like someone from another era, more like a foe than a friend. Jodi was reassured to see that Prue wasn't wearing a wig and looked the same as ever in her customary short skirt and high heels.

Jodi walked alongside Prue in the short stroll to the court, unaware of how naive she looked next to the streetwise lawyer. Jeremy and his offsider walked immediately behind them. Grandma, Shirley and Marlene, three abreast, were next in the procession. Prue's assistant was last, arms full of files, struggling to keep up.

There was a crowd gathered on the steps of the court, many of them holding microphones or TV cameras.

Prue's plum lips pursed together. ‘It's like a circus. Hold your head high, Jodi. Show them that you've got nothing to be ashamed of.'

Prue's fingers pressed into Jodi's arm as she steered a path through the rapid-fire questions. ‘No comment,' was the only answer she gave.

Once inside the court, they went through the security gate and waited at the other side for Grandma, Shirley and Marlene. It didn't help Jodi to see that her family were shaken by the scale of the media attention. Just like her, they were clearly out of their depth. And the trial had not even begun!

In the courtroom Jodi was seated in the dock. She, along with everybody else, rose when the judge made his entrance. He sat down, his long face stern as his eyes swept across the courtroom. His gaze stopped at Jodi. It was all she could do not to squirm in her seat.

Grandma, Shirley and Marlene were seated at the rear and she had to turn her head to make eye contact with them. She turned once and caught sight of a familiar face in the back row. Was it the dean? No! He was a busy man, far too busy to have time to sit through the trial of an unfortunate student. She risked another glance. The man's lips moved in a slight curve. It was a smile of recognition, support and encouragement. It was him.

The judge began to address the jury panel. ‘Ladies and gentlemen, I'm shortly going to ask the Crown prosecutor to briefly outline what this case is about and to give you a list of the names of the persons who are likely to be mentioned during the course of the trial or who may be called to give evidence. Please indicate to me if any of these people are known to you.' He paused and turned his head to emit a small cough. ‘I have been informed by the parties that this trial is expected to last three to four weeks. If you think that you have a problem with sitting on the trial for that length of time, or if you have health or hearing issues, then please indicate them to me.'

About half of the panel asked to be excused at this point. Jodi watched them go, wondering if they would have been on her side. Jeremy and the Crown began to haggle over the remaining jurors. Prue had already explained that Jeremy would challenge any males of about Bob's age who might sympathise with him.

Finally, the jury box was complete, with seven females and five males. Three of them were of pensioner age, two looked like students, and the rest were aged somewhere in between. Jodi
did as Prue directed and glanced their way every now and then. They all had the same reaction: they looked away.

The judge began to speak again, his tone grave. ‘Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I don't know whether any of you have ever sat on a jury before. Possibly some of you have. But in any event, it is appropriate at this point of time that I explain some things to you. I am the judge presiding over this trial. The barrister sitting closest to you at the bar table is the Crown prosecutor and she will be presenting evidence which she hopes will persuade you that the accused, who is sitting in the dock, has committed the offence for which she is accused. This is a criminal trial. It is alleged by the Crown that Miss Tyler murdered Mr Bob Jones, her stepfather . . .'

The jury sat straighter in their seats. Twelve pairs of curious, condemning eyes swung in Jodi's direction and crushed the little confidence she had left.

‘Your role in these proceedings and my role are quite different,' the judge continued. ‘I'm here to deal with the
legal
matters that occur during the course of the trial. However, you are the judges of the
facts
of the case. You are going to hear evidence from a number of witnesses about various factual matters over the next three weeks or so. When a person comes into the witness box, you are faced with the difficult task of making an assessment of that person and determining whether they are reliable, whether they are accurate, whether they are consistent, whether you think they are being truthful . . .'