Story: Executive Stress. Part 1.

by Charles Ryder

When Abigail Pugh examined herself appreciatively in her hallway mirror on that fateful Friday, little did she know it would be one of the last times she did so. The day had started much as any other day. Breakfast prepared and served by her devoted husband, Andy. Then she'd showered and changed. She'd chosen the Jaeger suit, the dark one. One of her favourites, she'd teamed that with some black stockings and red heels to match her Vuitton handbag. She'd taken the Porsche rather than get Andy to drop her at the station. Well, why not? The company paid for it after all, why not take advantage of it? It wasn't as if Bellman and Co were short of money or anything. A lot of that money was, she reflected, earned by her and her team. Idly she wondered what her commission would be this year. Something vast she assumed, like last year and the year before that. She allowed herself a little smile, life was certainly good.

A few miles down the road the car beeped at her. She glanced down at the dash, more petrol needed. A mile or so later she pulled into a garage and filled up. She gave the plebeian looking girl behind the counter her debit card and put in her PIN. Turning around to admire the Porsche she was only dimly aware of the girl speaking to her.

"Excuse me madam, you're card's been refused."

It took Abigail a little time to process the news. Oh really! There were several thousands of pounds in her current account.

"Could you try it again please?" She asked with a hint of impatience. Good grief, some of these shop girls were so stupid.

The girl did as she was asked and Abigail was very careful with the PIN. The result however was the same. Must be some sort of administrative error, she told herself. Annoyed she exchanged her debit card for her platinum credit card and repeated the process. Unfortunately it had the same result. Abigail was bewildered. Her card had a huge limit. Admittedly she'd spent a lot recently but nevertheless it was a bit odd.

"That’s impossible; could you try it again please?"

The girl behind the counter did so, but again it was rejected. By now there was a fairly restless queue growing behind her.

"Do you have another means of payment madam?" asked the girl with barely concealed amusement.

Angrily Abigail fished out her purse and handed over five twenty pound notes. She took her change, bundled it back into her purse and stormed out to her car. How embarrassing! Clearly there was a problem with the systems in the garage. Well, she certainly wouldn't be giving them her business again. That was for sure. Three hours later she was speeding past the garage in the other direction. Oh my God! Oh my God! She could hardly believe what had just happened! Her office had just been raided by the Fraud Squad. The bloody police had simply marched in and taken over. Computers had been seized, files had been impounded. All twenty of the office staff, including her had been arrested and then released ‘pending further investigation’!

Even in her stressed out state, Abigail was smart enough to realise that going back to her own house wasn’t a good idea. Just about the only safe haven she could think of was at her mother-in- law’s palatial villa. She’d never liked the old witch but so what? Any port in a storm and all that.

Lydia Pugh tried desperately to prevent herself smiling as Abigail's tale of woe unfolded. She had never really liked her daughter in law if truth be told. She had always considered her to be nothing more than an arrogant, jumped up little secretary.  She hated the way Abigail treated her son. Although she hadn't said anything at the time she was quite unhappy with Andrew's choice. Admittedly the girl had attended a good school and a prestigious university, but in Linda’s opinion she simply reeked of new money.  She was the sort of woman who valued material things and possessions over breeding. She was quite beyond the pale. Lydia forced herself to listen to the woman's whining. As far as she could make out it appeared that the dreadful woman was some of criminal. She'd always suspected as much. There was no way that such a person could earn what was admittedly a reasonable amount of money legitimately. Her immediate thought as always was for Andrew. He was quite delicate so hopefully the news wouldn't be too upsetting for him. Lydia was determined that the shame of Abigail’s obvious guilt would not be allowed to taint her son. As she watched the woman's mouth move, a plan had begun to form in her head. She would need the help of her son and that of several friends. But she was a wealthy woman and she had several favours to call in. She looked across at the young woman and nodded or shook her head as necessary.

"So as you can see, Lydia we're a little strapped for cash at the moment what with my accounts and credit cards frozen." Encouraged by the old woman's smile and nods of encouragement she carried on, "therefore we were wondering if you could see your way to lending us a little cash until this whole misunderstanding is sorted out?"

"How much would you need dear?"

"I'd say about 10k in the short term, maybe a little more for essentials?"

"Hmmm, ten thousand pounds, that's an awful lot of money Abigail. Are you sure you'll be able to repay that sort of sum?"

"I've got more than ten times that in my current account alone, Lydia. Plus I have various investment and savings accounts."

Lydia couldn’t help but give a little grimace, only the very vulgar talked about money in the way that Abigail did.

"Forgive me my dear; I can be a little slow at times. But doesn't 'frozen ' mean closed? I may be misunderstanding your situation; you know what I'm like."

Abigail had to fight to keep her temper in check. Good grief, the old woman could be a pain in the arse at times. She knew that Lydia Pugh was a very wealthy woman. She owned properties all over the city and had inherited a great deal of money when Andy's father passed away. She was clearly no fool but she could be so dense at times.

"No Lydia it means temporarily closed. Obviously I'm the innocent party in all this. Also everyone's account was frozen; it's just a procedural thing."

"The money isn't really an issue Abigail. What worries me is being involved in a criminal conspiracy. I couldn't let that happen to me or Andrew. Surely you can understand that can't you dear?"

"What do you mean, 'a criminal conspiracy’?"

"Well that's what it says on the internet darling. I looked it up in something called a 'forum' I believe. Although clearly I'm no expert it did link together the words fraud and Bellman together.”

"Don't worry about that Lydia; it's just media scare tactics. Nothing untoward ever happened at Bellman's."

"Nevertheless dear I'm going to invite my solicitor to a meeting to discuss the finer points of this situation. I'll ask him if he has any objections to you attending that meeting."

Up in her room, Abigail pushed her laptop away and sat up straight. It was bad, much worse than she'd first feared. The online forums which she'd studiously avoided were absolutely buzzing with gossip and half-truths. The terrible suspicions that she'd harboured regarding her employers were horribly true. The fantastic rates of return that Bellman’s were achieving were too good to be true after all! The innuendo she'd tried to ignore or laugh off was true. Oh my God! What was she going to do? She couldn't access any of her money so her options were limited. She’d spent the last of her cash on that bloody petrol.  She had assumed that her unpleasant but wealthy mother-in-law would lend her the 10k. She could have used that to go on a long extended holiday until all this had blown over and her name was forgotten. She hadn't completely abandoned that plan though. The woman's solicitor had graciously agreed to meet with her. No doubt she could flutter her lashes at him and get the old fool to agree with her.

Unfortunately the old fool turned out to be a well-dressed fifty something with an expensive haircut and piercing blue eyes. He looked anything but foolish. His eyes never left hers as she bumbled and mumbled her way through her version of the story.

"With the greatest respect Mrs Pugh that is the most arrant nonsense I've heard in a long time. I think we both know that any half decent prosecutor could have your convicted in very short time."

"But it wasn't my idea; I had no control over the way the business was run." She realised she sounded pathetic even as she said the words.

"You say that young lady but either way you were deeply involved. You either knew what was going on and did nothing about it. Or you don't know what was going on, despite your qualifications and experience, and you are therefore completely incompetent. One of those unpalatable ideas must be true. Unfortunately either one of them makes you culpable."

Abigail couldn't stem the tears that had begun to flow down her cheeks. He was right of course. He was blunt to quite an offensive degree, but he was right. What was she going to do?

"Don't worry yourself dear. You can stay here until we work something out. We wouldn't see you out on the streets now would we?" The woman leaned forward and patted her thigh possessively.

A couple of days later Abigail was sat on her bed idly swinging her legs. So it had come to this, she thought moodily. She was a twenty four year old, highly qualified graduate without a possession in the world. No available cash, no credit, no car as hers was Company property, no job, no prospect of a job in finance, and the distinct possibility of a court case hanging over her head. She could feel hot tears in her eyes. Her future looked bleak indeed. She was in that despairing frame of mind when she heard her name called.

"Abi, could you come downstairs please dear."

Abigail hated the casual use of the diminutive of her name, but recognised from the tone of the woman's voice that it was more a directive than a request. Nevertheless she lifted herself off the bed and slowly descended the stairs. Her mother in law indicated a chair for her to sit in.

"What are we going to do with you Abi? You're acting more and more like a recalcitrant teenager every day,"

"I don't know what you mean, Lydia. But it's not an ideal time for me you know."

"I mean, young lady that you're sulking and moping around my house all day. You're not even very pleasant company I'm afraid to say."

"How do you mean?"

"Your attitude Abi is becoming more and more tiresome. For instance when I call you it would be simple good manners to answer me don't you think?"

"I suppose so, yes."

"Similarly when I ask you to do something, wouldn't it make it more pleasurable for everyone if you did it straight away rather than in your own time?"

Abigail remained tight-lipped at this, although she suspected the woman may be correct.

"I understand the situation isn't easy for you but you have to grow up and face facts. I quite understand if you feel that you've failed somehow. But really you have to be more positive. I've invited Richard Moore over this afternoon and we'll all sit down and discuss the options you have."

"Thank you Lydia. I...I'm sorry if I've been a bit of a misery but I'm very worried about the situation."

"I accept your apology dear. We should try and get on together. I'd hate to have to ask you to leave."

Although Lydia's mouth smiled, her eyes didn't. Abigail was genuinely scared by the light hearted threat. She hadn't really thought about it before, but what would she do if she was thrown out? Her father had left many years ago. Her mother had drifted off to Australia or somewhere and they'd gradually lost touch. Her grandmother who had pretty much brought her up had died a couple of years ago and she had no other family. Her friends were all work friends. She couldn't even access Facebook for God's sake! Her phone was a company phone and she didn't have the funds to buy another one. She was also missing Andy. She never thought she would. He was a nice enough guy but he wasn't exactly a party animal. He was completely dominated by his overbearing mother, the very definition of a mummy's boy. She wasn't even sure why she'd married him to be honest. He was company when all said and done. But she hadn't seen him since breakfast on that terrible day. They'd spoken briefly on the phone. He'd explained how busy he was doing his teaching practice. And to be fair the school he was at was less than a mile from their house. She comforted herself with the thought that at least she still owned the majority of that.

So, the situation was laid bare. Her fellow manager from Bellman's, Matt, was just about to be summoned back to the police station in order to help the police with their enquiries. The staff were under investigation, and the main director had apparently left to pursue business opportunities abroad. Richard Moore was most insistent that she should lie low until the hurricane had blown over. She couldn't even return home because the paparazzi were apparently camped on the doorstep of her own house.

"My advice, Mrs Pugh is stay here under your mother in law’s wing as it were. Assuming she's happy with that arrangement it would appear that's your safest option. Nobody actually knows you're here apart from your husband, and of course the staff."

"I’ve already spoken with Mrs Jackson, Richard. The only thing that worries me is anyone finding out she's here. I really don’t want the Press or cameras involved. I certainly don't want to be associated with any sort of criminal activity, imagine the scandal? I could never hold my head up in the village again. Really, I’m half tempted to call the police right now, let her take her chance in court."

"Please don't do that, Lydia. I promise you'll I'll be no trouble. I just need somewhere to stay for a couple of weeks."

Lydia Pugh felt a fierce stab of pleasure. Now she had the little bitch where she wanted her! After a moment’s hesitation she slowly and carefully explained the rules that Abigail must submit to in order to retain her place of safety in the Pugh household.

Abigail understood the subterfuge but it didn't make it any easier to accept. Lydia Pugh had made it very clear that the only way she'd accept the situation was if she called the shots. Abigail had acquiesced, what choice did she have? As the woman explained to her, she entertained at least three times a week at home. Abigail couldn't be easily explained away to her friends who, according to Lydia were unbelievable gossips. Her solution was for Abigail to assume a new persona. From now on she would be known in the house as Gail, and her role would be that of a house servant! She could hardly believe that Lydia would even consider such an idea, never mind carry it through. But once she'd calmed down a little she realised the advantages. Nobody would be looking for her in the house and nobody would ever consider that she, Abigail Pugh respected City businesswoman, would be working as a maid. It wasn't ideal but it just might work, at least it would give her breathing space and some time to think. Something she hadn't been able to do much of recently. After all, how long would she have to keep it up for, a couple of weeks at most, probably?

“That is unless you really do want to take your chances in court?”

Abigail shook her head, not trusting herself to reply. She really had run out of options.

"In that case and assuming you agree with my plan, it’s high time you got into character as it were. You appear to overlook the fact that it’s me rather than you who’s taking all the risk, Abi. Go down and find Mrs Jackson. She'll find you an overall that fits you. There's no sense in getting your lovely clothes dirty is there?"

The large, red-faced housekeeper was only too pleased to provide a shapeless, brown nylon affair. Smiling vindictively she explained that it may be on the small side but it was the only one she had left. To Abigail’s horror it was way too small, humiliatingly too small. Not quite indecent but not far from it either. It was too baggy around her breasts offering almost no support. But at the same time it was too tight around her hips and backside. But mainly it was too short. She only had to bend over a little to display her knickers to all and sundry. The skirt was so tight she couldn't wear anything underneath it. She was left in just her bra, knickers and tights, and her flattest pair of shoes. She wouldn't put up with this. She marched down to the sitting room.

"This is too much, Lydia. I simply can't wear this. It doesn't fit me at all."

"I beg your pardon, young lady?"Replied Lydia looking up from her newspaper.

"This dress thing," she indicated her brown overall, “it’s all wrong look at...."

"Let me interrupt you Gail, dear. First that's all we have. It's either that or nothing. If you want to leave then please be my guest. Second you will not barge into my sitting room. Third you will address any problems you might have to your immediate superior, which in this case is Mrs Jackson, rather than me. And finally, in order to keep this pretence up you will address me as Mrs Pugh or ma’am, and certainly not Lydia. Do you understand me?”

Abigail was too shocked to reply at first. Her mouth just opened and closed.

"B...but what do you mean? Surely..."

"There's no surely about it, Gail You either abide by the rules I set beneath my own roof, or you leave. It's as simple as that. In fact if I have to explain the situation in the house just one more time, then you most certainly will be leaving. Now get out of my sight and report to Mrs Jackson!"

The humiliated young woman turned and left the room very quickly. She could feel tears pricking her eyes. Lydia Pugh had made her position very clear. Just so long as Abigail obeyed her, she’d be safe. If she stepped out of line she'd be given up to the media and ultimately the police. It was this realisation that upset her the most, the fact that she was now this horrible woman's plaything. She tried to plan as she hurried back downstairs, but what was there to plan? She had no real alternative. Her only thought was to wait for Andy to come over and speak to his mother on her behalf.

Andy eventually did come over to visit his mother at the weekend. She only realised he was in the house when his mother summoned her to the living room.

"Ah, there you are at last Munroe. I believe you know my guest?"

For a second she was dumbfounded. The horrible woman had introduced her to her own husband by her maiden name, the name he first knew her as at university.

Andy took one look at her and burst into laughter. As well as the shapeless brown monstrosity she was required to wear, she was bare legged and wearing a pair of scuffed, cheap leather flat-soled shoes.

"Good lord Abigail what have you done to yourself? If only the girls at work could see you now!"

Even his mother's perpetually sour expression cracked a little at this. But Abigail was a little shocked to be honest. Solid, reliable old Andy was mocking her! Didn't he know the situation? She was temporarily lying low; it wasn't as if she was actually a servant at his mother's house after all!

"Er...I'm helping your mother around the house. Surely you know that?" she snapped, trying to establish at least a semblance of the control she enjoyed over her husband.

“Munroe! Let me remind you once again. You are not 'helping me around the house '. You are a servant in my house. It is only by my good grace that you're not out on the street having to face all those people you've defrauded. Secondly you will not speak to my son in that rude and frankly over-familiar tone. Do I make myself clear?"

“Yes Mrs Pugh, sorry Mrs Pugh, “she forced herself to say.

“And you will of course apologise to my son.”

“I...I’m sorry, Mr Pugh.”

“That will be all thank you Munroe.”

Without any word, Abigail turned and left the room. What on earth was going on? Why had her husband allowed his mother to treat her in such a way?

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