Michael Ridpath - Free To Trade

'Oh yes, I see. So the moment I see a man and fall in love with him, I should resign and do a crash course in cookery and household management.' Cathy's voice was heavy with sarcasm.

'That's not what I mean,' I protested.

'Oh yes. Well, what do you mean?'

The argument had got out of hand. Waigel was blackmailing Cathy to stay away from me, and somehow we were arguing over a woman's right to a career. I searched for the words to answer her, but was too slow.

'Look, I thought I liked you, but I don't really know you at all,' Cathy continued. 'I am not about to jeopardise years of work for you. And that is that.' With that she stood up, turned away and walked quickly back to the lifts.

I sat on the chair, overcome with anger. All the muscles in my body were clenched tight. My fists were white and shaking. That bastard Waigel! My contempt for him had grown as I had discovered more of his role in the Tremont Capital fraud. He had probably murdered Shoffman. He might have had something to do with Debbie's death. He had pestered Cathy in the most unspeakable way. And now he had chased her away from me. That turned contempt into hatred. I would get him. I would nail him properly.

I was also angry with Cathy. The girl whom I had grown increasingly fond of had reverted to the arrogant Bloomfield Weiss executive woman I had first met. But perhaps I was being unfair. Perhaps it really was unreasonable to expect Cathy to risk her job for me. The trouble was, I didn't really feel like being broad-minded about this. I had lowered my emotional defences for perhaps the first time in my life, and Cathy and Waigel between them had trampled all over the exposed nerves.

I stalked over to one of the bars and ordered myself a beer. We were all supposed to be visiting a couple of other casinos that afternoon which issued junk bonds. I decided to give those a miss.

I finished my beer in a couple of minutes and ordered another. Slowly my fury began to subside. I looked around the large atrium at the assorted people milling about, some in a desperate hurry, most just hanging around. I recognised one of them. I choked on my beer as I saw a figure approaching me from the reception desk. It was Rob! What on earth was he doing here? He should have been at the office, or possibly at his own conference in Hounslow.

Then I focused on the large yellow bouquet he held in one arm. Oh no! I knew why he was here. He was making the dramatic gesture he had promised me that evening in the Gloucester Arms.

He walked with a determined stride. As he came up to me he didn't stop, but just grinned. 'Close your mouth, Paul, you never know what kind of insects they might have in a place like this,' he said as he strode past me on his way to the lifts.

I realised my mouth had indeed been gaping open. I shut it and watched him disappear into an elevator.

I propped up the bar, waiting for Rob to return. What would she say to him? After our conversation, she couldn't possibly accept his advances, could she? Or could she? The thought filled me with horror. I had to admit it was quite a dramatic gesture. But Cathy was a sensible girl. She wouldn't fall for that, would she?

An agonising ten minutes passed as I stared at the bank of lifts. At last I saw Rob emerge from one. He saw me at the bar, and wended his way through the island walkways to where I was sitting. His face was totally impassive. I couldn't tell whether he was elated or dejected. He was apparently deliberately suppressing his emotions. Why?

He walked up and stood right in front of me, silently. Say something! I wanted to scream at him. I needed to know what she had said.

Instead I just said, 'Hallo Rob.'

'You shit,' he said. He said it slowly and deliberately, looking me right in the eye.

'Why?' I said. 'What have I done?' I could hear my voice emerging weak and hoarse.

'You utter shit,' he said again. 'I meet the girl who I want to spend the rest of my life with. I fly six thousand miles out here to tell her so. And what do I find? My friend has got there before me.

'She told me all about you,' he continued bitterly. 'And the worst thing is you knew how I felt. You pretended you didn't like her, trying to put me off her, when all the time you had your own designs on her.' I saw tears begin to well up in Rob's eyes.

'Rob, it's not like that…' I started.

'Go fuck yourself,' Rob spat. 'I won't forget this. You won't get away with it. Neither of you. I'll kill her. And I will kill you too.' He stormed off, kicking a pile of coconuts out of his way, and sending a latex humming-bird spinning across the floor.

I gulped the rest of my beer and ordered another. What right had Rob to get so angry with me? He was crazy if he thought Cathy would have anything to do with him. She had told him what she thought of him before. And besides I hadn't done anything wrong. I hadn't intentionally chased after her. I had been completely honest when I had told Rob I didn't like her. Whatever had happened had just happened, that was all. There wasn't much I could do about it.

I had never seen Rob angry before, and he had looked very angry then. When he had threatened to kill Cathy and me, it looked as if he really meant it. I shuddered. With Rob, anger wasn't something that would be gone as soon as it had come, I thought. He had been deeply hurt, and he would not forget. I felt bad. I should have restrained myself. I should have realised Rob would not appreciate any relationship between Cathy and me.

Slowly, I began to feel sorry for him. Poor guy! The ticket to Las Vegas must have cost him a fortune. It was bad enough to be turned down after flying all that way. But Rob had been turned down before, he was used to it. It must have made it so much worse to find a friend there between him and his goal.

I thought about trying to find him to apologise. No, that wouldn't work, at least not for a while. He wouldn't believe my protestations. In fact, they would probably make his hatred of me deeper. It was probably best to avoid him, and hope that time would heal the rift between us.

But at least Cathy hadn't said yes to Rob. In fact he had said that she had told him all about me. What had she told him? She must have admitted that there was some sort of relationship between us, some sort of bond. Otherwise Rob would not have been so upset. Maybe she had decided to give up her fears of 'unprofessionalism'. Perhaps she had felt guilty about giving in to Waigel. I wanted to find out.

I went back up to my room and rang her number. She answered the phone. 'Hallo?'

'It's me,' I said. 'I wondered if you had thought more about our conversation. The invitation for dinner tonight is still open.'

'What is it about all you men at De Jong?' she answered angrily. 'You are all so persistent. No, I do not want to go out with you this evening. I just want to be left alone to get along with my life and my job. OK?'

'OK, OK,' I said. I hung up.

I had a miserable evening. Worries about Cathy gnawed away at the edges of my mind, and forced themselves further towards the fore. I could feel everything getting out of proportion; I had lost the ability to think clearly.

I ordered a steak and a bottle of Zinfandel from room service, ate the meat, drank the wine and went to bed. I lay awake for what may have been many hours or perhaps was just one. Finally, deadened by the alcohol and battered by confused thoughts and fears, my brain stopped churning and I drifted to sleep.

The sun shone down on the grey concrete and glass buildings of Gracechurch Street as I joined the familiar throng of office workers on the way to their desks. The street was packed indeed, since it was five to nine, much later than normal for me. I had granted myself a lie-in to get over the jet lag and the fatigue of the long journey.