Dan let out a deep breath. “Because of nine-eleven. I lost one of my best mates in the building, as well as a good number of work colleagues. I just decided then that there were more important things in life other than trying to make piles of money.”

Patrick nodded slowly. “I can understand that.” He leaned forward on the table and fixed Dan with an intense stare. “But you miss it, don’t you?”

Dan smiled. “Yes, I do. Every day. If you’ve had a pretty tough upbringing without any of the niceties of life, then you have to fight to survive. You have to be one step ahead of the gang on the street, otherwise you’re going to end up lying facedown in the gutter nursing four broken ribs . . . or worse. The job was made for me, like it was made for every other boy and girl who started from nothing and ended up dealing in the City. We all sailed pretty close to the wind, but we knew instinctively how to handle a situation that was as volatile and as unpredictable as our backgrounds in life. It was just . . . the survival of the fittest. Cowboy country, really.”

“Hah!” Patrick exclaimed, slamming his hand down on the table. A fierce excitement suddenly burned in his eyes as he turned to his wife. “Kate, did you hear that?”

Katie grinned broadly at him and nodded as she poured hot water into the teapot.

“You . . .” Patrick continued, pointing his finger at Dan, “have just come out with my expression. I could almost have taken a bet that you would too.”

Dan laughed. “Why?”

“Because”—Patrick clenched his fists and waved them about in the air, trying to find the right words— “because that kind of business is so vibrant, so cut and thrust, so . . . basic that it puts a fire in your belly and you know that if you don’t just go out there and grab every opportunity that arises, you’re going to . . . shrivel up and die.”

“And you reckon that your business is like that too, do you?”

“Exactly.”

“In that case, it must have been a hell of a change from being a lecturer at a university.”

He seemed surprised. “How did you know about that?”

“Dan knows everything about us,” Katie said, placing two mugs of tea in front of them on the table. “He gleans all his information from Woman’s Weekly, don’t you, Dan?”

Dan twisted his mouth to the side at the teasing remark. “Not always, but on this occasion, yes.” He turned his attention back to Patrick. “So how did it come about?”

“Do you really want to hear it?” Patrick asked, casting a challenging look at Dan.

“If you could be bothered.”