There was a peppery irony to the fact that Sebastian left my life for Japan at around the time that Mie from Japan entered it. She was, for a short time, the prickly reminder of where or what I had lost him to, but I couldn’t bring myself to hold it against her.
There was a quality to Mie that elevated her above Yuuto’s other Japanese desk assistants. They had been either expats’ daughters or expats’ wives who had sought diversion or pocket money rather than careers, and who had allowed themselves to be overwhelmed by the pace and pressures of the macho trading room environment. The more uncertain and nervous they had become, the more irritable Yuuto had been, and the louder his voice behind me had grown when he either instructed them or told them off. The more make-up and the more ostentatious the brands and labels they had worn, the less time they had lasted.
The first time I saw Mie, I had to resist an impulse to laugh and brought my hand to my mouth, just like the Japanese assistants’ did when they were embarrassed. She was dressed like a grandmother: in a below-the-knee-length woollen skirt, socks and sandals with an ever-so-slight heel and a plain, dark blouse. Over one arm was an ill-matching jacket; over the other hung a large, featureless handbag. Jet black, pomaded hair was pulled back in a tight bun above a plain face that was free of cosmetics. Initially, I thought her eyebrows had been painted on, so perfectly had they been plucked into crescent shapes.
Mie had a focus and a dogged commitment to the job that the others had lacked. She seemed to apply herself consciously even to walking and moving, as though every action were considered, executed only once properly deliberated and weighed. She never said as much, but gave the impression that, having left home and Japan for this job, failure was not an option.
At first, I considered her if not stupid then a little slow, because she asked questions about everything; I feared for Mr Johnson, who I quite liked and who I knew had stuck his neck out in hiring her. I came to realise, however, that her questions were good ones, that she never repeated them and that they demonstrated a desire to go beyond the mechanics of a task to a full understanding of the reason behind it. I didn’t always have the answers and felt the blood go to my face when replying, ‘We don’t need to know that,’ as an alternative to repeating, ‘I don’t know.’
To begin with, Mie shadowed my every move. I showed her how the UK sales team’s clients were organised in my database and we replicated the same for the Japan team’s clients. We wrote sale and buy tickets together, had the salespeople and then the traders sign them together and walked the carbon copies to the back office together.
‘Sharon, what did Jonathan do just then?’
‘He sold his client this… this bond.’ I waved the trading slip at her on which I had written the names of the client and a company, a rate, a date, a price, an identifying code and the day’s date and time.
‘What is a bond, exactly?’
‘I don’t know!’
‘Why did the client want to buy it?’
‘I don’t know!’
‘Why did we want to sell it?’
‘It’s what we do!’ I cried in exasperation.
‘It’s what we do on the UK desk,’ said Jonathan, a phone on each shoulder and his back turned to Yuuto. ‘I don’t know about the Japan desk, though. I think there you’ll only get to write lunch orders, Mie.’
Yuuto replied at length in Japanese.
‘No need to translate, Mie!’ said Jonathan cheerily. ‘I think I got the gist!’
Mie looked seriously at the three of us in turn and then stood up. Yuuto looked at her from the corner of his eyes to gauge the effects of his words, but she seemed quite unfazed by whatever it was he had said. ‘Come on,’ she said, holding her hand out for the slips. ‘Trading.’
We placed the slips in front of the trader for signing.
‘Hello, darling,’ he said to me as he signed.
‘Excuse me,’ said Mie to the trader. ‘Why did you quote this price instead of another?’
‘Are you questioning my pricing?’
‘Come on, Mie!’ I took the duplicate slips in one hand and Mie’s elbow in the other. To the trader: ‘Thanks!’ To Mie: ‘Now’s not the time! Not while they’re busy!’
‘All right. So, back office next?’
‘Yes.’
‘What is the back office, exactly? Excuse me, what is it you do here?’
‘What do I do?’ asked a settlements clerk.
‘Yes. What does the back office do?’
‘It’s where we settle the trades.’
‘Mie!’ I took her by the arm again. ‘Save it. We can’t be away from our desks too long. Not when phones need answering and tickets are being written.’
Mie walked, or had the appearance of walking, from below the knees only. She managed to glide and beetle along simultaneously, without bobbing. Seen across a bank of desks, when only the top half of her was visible, she gave the impression of riding a horizontal escalator, a moving stairway.
‘How on earth does she do that?’ reflected Curtis admiringly.
Mie was humourless but not unfriendly. She made me recognise that I used humour ingratiatingly, in order to gain approval and acceptance, and I was fearful that she would consider it a weakness. To my amazement, I discovered that men found this rather dour, resolute quality of Mie attractive. Yuuto seemed a little in awe of her, and Mr Johnson and his sidekick, David, supposedly to help her settle in, took to entertaining her in The George, a pub that was so noisy that its customers had to get close to hear each other speak above the din of City traders. Occasionally, I would join them and make up a four in which Mr Johnson would address us all animatedly, David would look doe-eyed at Mie with barely a word, and Mie would look gravely at each of us in turn before asking a question about the financial markets that Mr Johnson would answer at length.
I joined Mr Johnson at the bar in order to help him carry the drinks back to the table David and Mie had secured.
‘So, how’s she settling in?’ he asked, having elbowed his way into an ordering position.
‘I think she’s doing very well,’ I replied.
‘Does she have many friends?’
‘Outside of work? I don’t think so. She’s been too busy looking for an apartment. The company one was only for three months. Anyway, she’s found one.’
‘Oh good. Say, do you think you could take her out with your friends? Just a couple of times?’ He looked apologetically at me and then down at his feet. ‘You know.’
‘Of course! In fact, I’d already decided to. And we have a date.’
Mr Johnson looked up at once. ‘Oh, great! Thank you!’