Caption: The Imposter.

Despite having spent the last three years living as the wealthy widow Linda Mallory, Gabi couldn't help but still see a maid in the mirror. That was who she in truth was and it was a self image she had a hard time leaving behind. After all she had never intended on perpetrating a masquerade like this, it just kinda happened.

She had only been in the employ of Mrs. Mallory, who was new to town like herself, for a few months before her employer suddenly disappeared hang gliding. It was sad, she seemed like a decent enough lady, but at the time what really worried Gabi was that she had yet to be paid and was afraid she might never get paid. That was what led Gabi to impersonate her the first time.

Gabi knew it was wrong, but it seemed like a victimless crime. All she meant to do was dress up in some of Mrs. Mallory's designer clothes, style her hair like hers and drive her luxury coupe downtown to the bank. There she would withdraw enough from the lady's account to make up for what she was owed. They were about the same age and build and few people in town knew either of them. Simple enough of a plan really.

Story: It Wasn't Right. Chapter 5.

by Jackie J

The large envelope nervously opened, and the contents laid out on my desk, I notice the same letterhead used for the confirmation of Mrs Burtonshaw to be my temporary housekeeper, Mayfair Domestic Services, any similarity to that previous correspondence ends there. No detail of Mrs Burtonshaw working for me, but of myself, well Miss Brannigan, working for her. All very formal and detailed.  I sit back and read the main letter.

Dear Miss Brannigan,

Following the completion of your service for Miss Williams, at Crestley House, and your wish to become one of our maids, I write to inform you that your application to join Mayfair Domestic Services was successful and your maid registration is now complete. Your registration certificate is enclosed along with your identification disc which you will wear at all times whilst in service.

Your first assignment is at Bracken Hall, being employed for general maid duties. You will report on the sixth of October to the housekeeper, Mrs Madeley. The address you will find on your letter of introduction, which is enclosed. I need not remind you of the high standards that are expected of you, of all Mayfair domestic servants, of which you are now one. Your contract at Bracken Hall is for one month, and I will expect favourable reports when your time there is concluded. Don’t let me down Milly.

Story: It Wasn't Right. Chapter 4.

by Jackie J

Linda is back at Crestley Manor and the household is returning to its normal routines. It was awkward at first, of course it was, not only for me but for Mrs Burtonshaw. What I had done could not be undone, not that I would ever wish it to be. During the first days, after Linda’s return, when Mrs Burtonshaw’s and my own paths crossed, I had to stop myself from lowering a curtsy. Calling her Miss crossed my lips a few times which brought an exchange of knowing smiles between us.

What I have noticed, since Linda’s return, something perhaps I wasn’t aware of previously, is how often I interact directly with Linda and how much of her time I take from her. Bringing tea or refreshments when I desire, the preparation of my clothing, a book from the library or any other such task.  Keeping pace with Mrs Renwick’s daily rota had not been an issue for me and I had wondered, at the time, why Linda often appeared hurried in her work. I of course had not been at the beck and call of a Mistress had I. Reflecting on this aspect of Linda’s work I couldn’t help myself from feeling a little cheated that I had not had a mistress to serve, but then how could I have, I was the mistress. Having been a month a maid I cannot help feeling restless, that I should be doing things, no doubt these feelings will pass but I am doubting my life can ever return to what it was. A ridiculous madness I am sure, but each time I see Linda I am questioning my worthiness of my privilege. Harbouring feelings of resentment towards her, jealous of the simple servility of her existence, an existence I had shared and known, and what should be worrying but isn’t, an existence that I still covet.