'Look, it's almost lunchtime. Why don't we go out and get a sandwich?' I said.
'It's too early,' said Debbie.
'Come on,' I said firmly.
Debbie sighed and threw her pen down on to her desk. 'OK, let's go.'
We ignored the usual Italian sandwich shop over the road and instead walked to Birley's in Moorgate. Clutching our absurdly expensive turkey-and-avocado sandwiches, we walked on to Finsbury Circus.
It was a gorgeous day. The sun was out and a gentle breeze ruffled the dresses of the secretaries who were making their way to the lawn in the middle of the Circus for a lunchtime's sunbathing. We found an empty patch of grass with a view over to the bowling-green. Young men in bright blue striped shirts and red braces were playing. The gentle murmur of relaxed conversation hovered over the lounging office workers scattered over the lawn, pale limbs and faces turned towards the July sun.
We chewed our sandwiches in silence, watching the people go by.
'Well?' I said.
'Well, what?' said Debbie.
'Do you want to tell me about it?'
Debbie didn't answer. She leaned back on her elbows and raised her face to the sky, her eyes closed. Finally, she opened them and squinted sideways at me.
'I think I should give all this up,' she said. 'Hamilton's right, I'm not suited to it.'
'Bullshit,' I said. 'You are picking it up very quickly. You're a natural.'
'A natural dilettante, according to Hamilton. I have the wrong attitude. Traders with my attitude are dangerous. They're careless. They lose money. Unless I improve my attitude, I have no future. And you know what? I don't care. I am damned if I am going to become an anally retentive Scottish robot, just so I can earn De Jong's clients an extra half a per cent. It's all right for you. He loves you. All that dedication and hard work. The sun shines out of your arse. But that's just not me. I'm sorry.'
She looked away from me as she blinked away a tear.
'Look around you,' I said, inclining my head towards the crowd of prone bodies. 'Do you think all these people are failures? The City isn't full of people like Hamilton or even me. There are hundreds of people who enjoy a good laugh and who spend their lunchtimes lying in the sun, who are very successful, thank you very much.'
Debbie looked at me doubtfully.
'Look,' I said, 'you are quick on the uptake, you always get the work done, you are 99 per cent accurate, what more do you want?'
I put my hand on hers. 'I'll tell you what you have got that the rest of us haven't,' I said. 'People love to work with you. They like to deal with you. They tell you things. They let you get away with things they probably shouldn't. They do you favours. Don't underestimate how important that is, in this business.'
'So I shouldn't just get married, have two point two children and eat ice-cream in front of 'Neighbours' every afternoon? I would be good at that. Especially the eating ice-cream bit.'
'You can if you want, but it would be a shame,' I said.
'Well, it may not be my decision,' she said. 'Unless I 'sharpen up' in the next month, I will be out.'
'Hamilton said that?'
'Hamilton said that. And I am damned if I am going to change my personality just for him.'
She put her head on her knees, and examined a daisy two feet in front of her.
'What did he say to you about buying the Gypsum stock?' she asked.
'He wasn't too happy,' I said. 'He didn't exactly tell me I was wrong to do it. He just said I should be careful. Come to think of it, I don't know whether he was talking about the stock I bought for my own account, or the bonds I bought for the firm. Either way, it's a bit much for him to criticise anyone for taking risks.'
'You like him, don't you?' Debbie asked.
'Well, yes, I suppose I do,' I said.
'Why?'
'It's difficult to say. He's not exactly a warm and loving person, is he? But he's fair. He's honest. He's professional. And he is probably the best fund manager in the City.'
I watched a couple slowly get up from a wooden bench opposite us, their places soon taken by two young bankers, there to check out the talent. There was plenty to look at, dotted about on the closely cut grass.
'I doubt there is anyone else like him in the City,' I went on. 'It really is a privilege to work with him. When I see him in action, I am amazed. He always sees angles others don't. And he has this way of drawing you into his thought process, making you an accomplice in whatever brilliant trade he is working on. Do you understand what I mean?'
Debbie nodded. 'Yes, I suppose I do.' She looked at me closely. 'Why do you come in to work every day?' she asked.
'To earn a crust,' I replied.
'That's not all, is it?'
I reflected a moment. 'No, I want to learn how to trade. I want to learn how to trade better than anyone else out there.'
'Why?'
'What do you mean, why? Isn't it obvious?'
'No, not really.'
'I suppose it isn't.' I sat back and rested on my elbows, squinting into the strong sunlight. 'I need to push myself all the time, as hard as I can. And then a bit harder. I have always been like that, ever since I was a boy. When I ran, I wanted to be the best. Not second or third, but the best. I suppose the habit just doesn't go away.'
'I envy people like you. Where do you get all that drive from?'
'Oh I don't know,' I said. But I did know. There was a reason for those bitter hours of self-inflicted pain I had suffered as an adolescent, that single-mindedness which Debbie said she envied, and which had cut me off from the carefree enjoyment of life that I saw in other 'normal' people. But I wasn't going to tell Debbie or anyone else at De Jong what that reason was.
Debbie was looking at me intently. Then her face creased into a broad smile. 'You're weird. No you're not, you're nuts. You should see a psychiatrist immediately before you end up as a Hamilton Mark II. You are the one with an attitude problem.'
She stood up and wiped the grass off her dress. 'Anyway, I have got to go back to the office to polish my nails and you have got to charge into battle for your lord and master. Let's go.'
We walked back to the office in much better spirits. It was difficult for Debbie to be depressed for long.
I stopped at the coffee machine to replenish my caffeine level. As the gritty brown liquid flowed into my plastic cup, Rob came up beside me. 'Did you see Reuters?'
'No,' I said, my curiosity aroused.
'Have a look.' He grinned at me. Bad news I thought.
I returned to my desk and looked. There was a message on the screen that Congress was considering a change in the United States's double-taxation treaty with the Netherlands Antilles, a favourite tax haven and domicile for entities which issued bonds. IBM, General Electric and AT &T had all issued bonds through their Netherlands Antilles subsidiaries, as had a lot of less well-known borrowers.
I sighed. We would have to analyse these tax changes. Someone would have to go through the prospectus of every Netherlands Antilles issuer in our portfolio. It was a pig of a job.
'Debbie? A very interesting situation has just arisen…'
Debbie interrupted. With her legal background, and the time she had spent in De Jong's administration department, she was uniquely qualified, and she knew it. 'I know what you want me to do. You want me to read every Netherlands Antilles prospectus ever printed.'
'Well, er…'
'Don't deny it. The things I do for this firm. Morons like you blow bucketfuls of money on silly trades, and I get left to do the really glamorous stuff.'
But she seemed in good humour as she set off to collect the prospectuses.
