fetch anyone’s coffee and would start to get paid the big bucks. Eva was starting to understand that half of being successful was just staying in the game longer than anyone else. The great surprise of the adult world had been that no one really knew what they were doing, and especially not the people who exuded impenetrable confidence. The first year in the job had been soul-crushing; every time she’d asked a question she found that she didn’t understand the answer. At first she assumed that this was because she was failing to grasp things that everyone else just magically understood, but lately she’d begun to realise that the reason her questions were often glossed over was that the people around her didn’t actually know the answers.
Nobody really knows what they’re doing. This was an epiphany that had scared the bejesus out of her but had also expanded her confidence tenfold, because if the big beasts of the markets didn’t have all the answers, then if she could make it her business to be the one who did she would surely be ahead of the game. She’d quietly gone back and examined the fundamentals: there are two sides to every deal, every profit made by one person equates to a loss for someone else, every loan has to be either repaid or defaulted upon at some point in the future, a single dollar is a single dollar and if it’s being counted in two places at once then sooner or later there’ll be a shortfall. Simple truths, often overlooked.
Understanding everything from first principles gave you a certain confidence that other people could just smell on you, she found. And it wasn’t only that; it was also knowing she could pick up the phone to her brokers and get a table at any club or restaurant she wanted in London that night, or tickets to Wimbledon, or pretty much anything else that her heart desired. It might not be finding a cure for cancer, but being greeted by name and given the best table by the maître d’ at Coq d’Argent still had a way of making you feel like somebody.
Even Lucien was looking at her differently tonight, with a sort of hungry air about him. After all the times she’d had to quell the stabbing feeling she got from watching him look at countless other girls that way, she recognised it when it was directed at her and savoured an inward glow of satisfaction. The balance of power was shifting between them; she had a new allure and they both knew it. It felt like the stars were starting to align for her at last.
She took a decision and grinned at Sylvie across the toilet cubicle. ‘Go on then. But not that half you just dropped on the floor. Give us a clean one, I know you’ve got a bag full. I might as well have a whole one anyway.’
Sylvie fished around in her bra for the little bag of pills. ‘Okay, sod it, flush that wet one down the loo. If you’re doing another whole one then so am I.’
Chapter 7
Primrose Hill, August 1999
S EVEN HOURS LATER , a hazy sun was rising above Primrose Hill and a blade of long grass was tickling the side of Eva’s face. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked out across the city towards St Paul’s Cathedral. Eva had meant to go home with Benedict after the club closed but somehow she and Lucien had ended up in the back of a crowded van headed for an after-party in North London, and they’d been halfway across town by the time she’d realised that Sylvie and Benedict weren’t with them. Eva hoped Benedict wasn’t annoyed; he knew where the spare key was and really, it wasn’t her fault they’d got split up. He was bound to be okay. She could make it up to him, take him out for breakfast before he caught his train. Eva was actually feeling quite straight now, not in a paranoid, scratchy way, just warm and mellow. She had been surprised and pleased when Lucien had tugged her out of the party, insisting that since they were in this part of town it would be a crime not to watch the sun rise from the top of Primrose
Nobody really knows what they’re doing. This was an epiphany that had scared the bejesus out of her but had also expanded her confidence tenfold, because if the big beasts of the markets didn’t have all the answers, then if she could make it her business to be the one who did she would surely be ahead of the game. She’d quietly gone back and examined the fundamentals: there are two sides to every deal, every profit made by one person equates to a loss for someone else, every loan has to be either repaid or defaulted upon at some point in the future, a single dollar is a single dollar and if it’s being counted in two places at once then sooner or later there’ll be a shortfall. Simple truths, often overlooked.
Understanding everything from first principles gave you a certain confidence that other people could just smell on you, she found. And it wasn’t only that; it was also knowing she could pick up the phone to her brokers and get a table at any club or restaurant she wanted in London that night, or tickets to Wimbledon, or pretty much anything else that her heart desired. It might not be finding a cure for cancer, but being greeted by name and given the best table by the maître d’ at Coq d’Argent still had a way of making you feel like somebody.
Even Lucien was looking at her differently tonight, with a sort of hungry air about him. After all the times she’d had to quell the stabbing feeling she got from watching him look at countless other girls that way, she recognised it when it was directed at her and savoured an inward glow of satisfaction. The balance of power was shifting between them; she had a new allure and they both knew it. It felt like the stars were starting to align for her at last.
She took a decision and grinned at Sylvie across the toilet cubicle. ‘Go on then. But not that half you just dropped on the floor. Give us a clean one, I know you’ve got a bag full. I might as well have a whole one anyway.’
Sylvie fished around in her bra for the little bag of pills. ‘Okay, sod it, flush that wet one down the loo. If you’re doing another whole one then so am I.’
Chapter 7
Primrose Hill, August 1999
S EVEN HOURS LATER , a hazy sun was rising above Primrose Hill and a blade of long grass was tickling the side of Eva’s face. She propped herself up on her elbows and looked out across the city towards St Paul’s Cathedral. Eva had meant to go home with Benedict after the club closed but somehow she and Lucien had ended up in the back of a crowded van headed for an after-party in North London, and they’d been halfway across town by the time she’d realised that Sylvie and Benedict weren’t with them. Eva hoped Benedict wasn’t annoyed; he knew where the spare key was and really, it wasn’t her fault they’d got split up. He was bound to be okay. She could make it up to him, take him out for breakfast before he caught his train. Eva was actually feeling quite straight now, not in a paranoid, scratchy way, just warm and mellow. She had been surprised and pleased when Lucien had tugged her out of the party, insisting that since they were in this part of town it would be a crime not to watch the sun rise from the top of Primrose
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