[Escape 01.0] Escape for the Summer

by Ruth Saberton

  As she rode the elevator to her office, Andi chewed her nails and tried to quash her growing sense of panic. The conversation she’d had with her bank manager played on a loop through her mind.

  “I really don’t understand this at all,” he’d said, leaning forward and frowning at his computer screen. “According to our records all the transactions have been authorised by you.”

  Andi had shaken her head. “I haven’t been near my accounts or my credit cards! You’ve let somebody else withdraw my money!”

  “If that has happened then I can’t apologise enough,” the bank manager had said with a grave expression. “I assure you we take our customers’ security very seriously indeed. However, according to our system you made the withdrawal of funds yourself using your Internet banking access codes.” His brow had crinkled. “This is very strange: you appear to have gone through the three highest levels of security and used the correct PINs and passwords too. That isn’t standard practice at all for card cloning.”

  Andi had had the horrible sensation that she was whizzing down to earth even faster than Jeb Corliss in his wingsuit.

  “My money was taken over the Internet?”

  He had nodded. “It’s very unusual for this to happen. Is it possible that somebody could have got access to your security? Could anyone else know your PINs? A family member, maybe?”

  Andi closed her eyes. There was only one person she’d trusted with those details. Not a family member – if Angel had had access to any of her money she’d have done a trolley dash round Gucci before you could say “credit card” – but there was one person, one person she’d trusted totally...

  “My boyfriend,” she’d whispered.

  The bank manager had stared at her. Incredulous didn’t come close to describing the look on his face. “I’m sorry, for a minute I thought you said your boyfriend had access to your online security?”

  Andi had nodded miserably. “I’m at work a lot and Tom’s at home. He does a lot of our shopping online.” He also did the lion’s share of their poker playing and porn viewing too, which had been the cause of this morning’s enormous row. Tom had thought her most unreasonable; what else was he supposed to do all day? Andi had almost suggested getting off his backside and finding a job, but had stopped herself just in time. After all, she knew how sensitive Tom was to any suggestion that his career as an actor might have to be reconsidered. He was convinced that it was only a matter of time before his talent was spotted. Andi was all for matters of time, but just how much time was starting to become something of an issue. Was he talking weeks? Months? Or, as she was starting to fear, aeons?

  Talking of time, maybe it was time she called exactly that on their relationship? She wasn’t happy and it wasn’t working. The fact that she believed Tom could steal her money spoke volumes.

  While her thoughts had raced, the bank manager had taken off his glasses and sat pinching the bridge of his nose. He’d looked like a man on the brink of nervous collapse.

  “So you’re telling me that you have given your boyfriend permission to access your accounts? Then it isn’t a case of theft, Miss Evans.” The words it’s a case of stupidity had hung in the air like subtitles. “This really isn’t the bank’s fault, is it?”

  What could Andi possibly have said to that? She had fled from the bank feeling so stupid that she wouldn’t have been surprised if the Oxford English Dictionary’s definition of the word had been Miranda Evans. She tried calling Tom but he wasn’t answering and was pointedly ignoring her private Facebook messages.

  The lift doors hissed open and Andi somehow managed to make her way to her desk. The office clock glared down at her, balefully announcing that she was over forty minutes late. Her heart sank even further when Zoe stalked over. So much for hoping to come in undetected. What was she thinking to even imagine that would be possible? Zoe was a bloodhound when it came to sniffing out office misdemeanours.

  “You’re late,” Zoe said when she reached Andi’s workstation. The air was instantly choked with the cloying scent of Poison, which made Andi feel queasy. She took a deep breath and prayed she didn’t hurl all over her line manager’s Kurt Geiger shoes.

  “Sorry, Zoe, it won’t happen again. There’s been a bit of a problem with my bank account and—”

  But Zoe was holding up her hand and looking bored.

  “I don’t need to hear any excuses, Andi. Time is time, remember? And what does time cost?” She fixed Andi with a pebble-eyed stare.

  “Money,” said Andi dully. This little mantra was one of Zoe’s favourites.

  “Exactly!” Zoe agreed, triumphant. “So you can explain that to Ms Clark, can’t you, seeing as she asked to see you at 2 p.m.?”

  Andi’s stomach lurched as though she was in a plane that had suddenly lost altitude. Leeza Clark was the boss of her division. Normally she didn’t stir from her glass-walled office, but just recently she’d taken to calling various employees in to see her. Like the old song about the spider and the fly, those who ventured into Leeza’s lair were seldom seen again.

  OK, she thought as she watched Zoe’s narrow frame returning to her own desk, I mustn’t panic. Being summoned to see the boss isn’t necessarily bad news. It was time she started thinking more positively. Wasn’t that what all those career-building seminars said? Andi would bet all the money she had lost that Alan Sugar never sat at his desk quaking and chewing the end of his ponytail. Not that Lord Sugar had a ponytail, but still. He wouldn’t be trembling behind his computer, would he? No way. He’d be far too busy striding around looking grumpy and firing people.

  “Andi? Has Leeza asked to see you too?” Andi’s colleague Jen peered over the top of the computer monitor. It wasn’t the dodgy office lighting that had turned her the exact hue of mushy peas.

  Andi nodded.

  Jen’s hands were shaking so hard her bangles rattled like castanets. “What am I going to do if they’re making redundancies? Mike was laid off last month. If I lose my job there’s no way we can make the mortgage repayments. We need my income. What do you think’s happening? Why do they want to see us?”

  Andi took a deep breath. Jen’s terror was contagious and unless she made a real effort they were both only seconds away from drowning themselves in the office loo.

  “No idea, but I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about,” she said, crossing her fingers, toes, eyes and anything else crossable. “They probably just want to tie off some of Safe T Net’s loose ends.”

  Jen exhaled slowly. “You’re right. Their CEO was only on the phone a minute ago. I’m just so paranoid at the moment. Everyone I know seems to be losing their jobs.”

  Jen wasn’t wrong. It seemed that hardly a day went by lately without news of another firm going bust or another company being streamlined. It felt as though there was no end in sight. Andi often woke up in the night worrying about it all – unlike Tom, who slept the deep and untroubled sleep of a man whose girlfriend worked her butt off.

  Andi was just trying to think of something cheerful to say when Alan Eades, the office creep, perched his bony backside on her desk.

  “Have you two been summoned as well?” he asked, legs at right angles as he treated both girls to a view of his groin.

  Andi had heard it said that one of the great things about life was having new experiences, and being pleased to see Alan was certainly a first. Normally she tried her hardest to avoid being anywhere near him; those clammy hands had a habit of wandering just a little too close and it was amazing how many lint specks and stray hairs he managed to find in need of flicking away from her chest. Merely breathing the same oxygen as Alan was enough to make her want a shower, so having to work with him on the Safe T Net accounts had been a nightmare. Sloths were more proactive than Alan: she’d lost count of the amount of times she’d had to stay late triple-checking the figures because of his sloppy mistakes. Most days Andi felt like ripping off his head and beating him to death with the soggy end. But today he was a blessing in disgu
ise, albeit a blooming good one, because if he’d been called to the boss as well it must be because the team was being assigned to a new account. Alan was useless, whereas Jen and Andi were Sabatier-sharp with figures. There was no way the bosses would lump them in with him. No way at all.

  “Any idea what it’s about?” Jen asked.

  Alan shrugged. “There was some talk about cost-cutting and redundancies. Recession this, downturn that, blah blah blah. Well, if they sack me they’re making a big mistake. There aren’t many accountants of my calibre about.”

  “You’re not wrong there,” Andi said fervently.

  Still looking worried, Jen returned to her desk. After Andi prodded him with the sharp end of her pencil, Alan pushed off too. That made a very welcome change: for the last few weeks she’d hardly been able to get rid of him. Andi had caught him lurking around her desk several times and yesterday he’d even had the cheek to be working at her computer terminal. He’d muttered some excuse about his needing defragging, which may or may not have been true – but, even so, it didn’t explain why he was using her login or why he minimised the screen so quickly when she tried to peer over his shoulder. Andi didn’t need to be good with figures to know that something didn’t add up.

  Hey! Was it possible that Alan had managed to access her personal data? Had she been too hasty in assuming Tom was to blame? How could she find out?

  Pondering this thought, Andi waited for her computer to boot up. Honestly, you’d think the thing was on flexitime. While it beeped and buzzed to itself she wandered to the dingy broom-cupboard kitchen in desperate search of caffeine. As the kettle wheezed away, Andi scraped the cold dregs of her coffee into the least mouldy mug she could find and tried to concentrate on doing some slow yoga breathing. Not that she’d ever made it to yoga, but Tom was always glued to some fitness DVD – supposedly to work on honing his pecs, although Andi suspected he was actually perving over girls in Lycra. Essexercise and The Jordan Workout? Seriously?

  “Ooh! Are you making coffee, Andi? Can you do one for me?” asked Cally, the office junior, who never had her own milk/coffee/mug (delete as appropriate).

  Swallowing a sigh, Andi doled out another spoonful. In the general scheme of things, what was another cup of coffee?

  “You’re a star,” said Cally gratefully. “Just two sugars, ta. I’m cutting back.”

  While Andi stirred in lumpy sugar, Cally chatted away about everything under the sun. Andi wished she could be more like her. The younger girl was a little sunbeam in high heels and a Top Shop suit. She just didn’t seem to be able to shake off a feeling of heaviness. Was this the reality of approaching thirty, with responsibilities weighing you down like concrete boots? As Cally nattered away, Andi wondered what it must be like to be nineteen and free from worries. No bills, no wrinkles and no gigantic rent payments...

  Nope, it was no good. She couldn’t imagine it for the life of her.

  “So I said to Chloe, phwoar! I would! He’s well fit! I would! Wouldn’t you, Andi?”

  Andi dragged her thoughts back to the kitchen, where Cally’s tiny bum was perched on the minuscule counter. The office junior was waving a copy of Cosmo under Andi’s nose in the fashion of a Victorian administering smelling salts.

  “Would I what?” Andi asked. God, she must be getting old because she hadn’t a clue what Cally was on about. It was official: Andi no longer spoke teen.

  Bugger. That ruled out the teacher training option if all else failed.

  “Shag him!” Cally thrust the magazine at Andi and stabbed at the paper with a scarily long acrylic nail. “He’s number one most eligible bachelor because he’s going to be worth gazillions when his company floats on the stock market!”

  Andi glanced down. To be honest the closest she got to shagging these days was walking past an Ann Summers shop on the way to work. Her sex organs were practically retired. She wasn’t quite sure when this became the norm but she supposed it was another of the joys of nearly hitting thirty, a bit like having to wax her upper lip and worry about wrinkles. Tom was always out at some acting thing in the evenings, and by the time he arrived home Andi had usually conked out. She still fancied him, of course she did, but she was just so tired.

  So shagging? Andi thought she could just about remember it.

  “Isn’t he just sex on a stick?” gushed Cally, practically gobbling up the page while Andi looked on blankly. “Come on, Andi! You must know! That’s Benjamin Jonathan Teague? The CEO of Safe T Net. You’ve only just spent the last few months getting his company ready to go public!”

  Reaching forward, she grabbed the magazine and began to read aloud, like a primary teacher with a particularly dim pupil. “‘Benjamin J Teague, 31, is the genius behind Safe T Net, the Internet security company. Hailed as Britain’s answer to Bill Gates, Teague is set to become one of the UK’s wealthiest men when the company floats on the stock market. In his spare time Teague enjoys extreme sports like wakeboarding, flying and racing his speedboat.’ And it says he’s single! Apparently he’s just split up with someone and is back on the market!”

  Andi gave the page a cursory glance. A man smiled up at her from the glossy paper. Eyes hidden by expensive shades, he lolled against a red sports car with his designer suit crumpled in an I’m such a normal guy pose. She supposed he was good-looking in a rich city boy way, but everything about him, from the immaculate haircut to the snowy whiteness of his shirt, screamed expense and self-satisfaction. Two champagne flutes dangled from his hand, drawing attention to the chunky watch on his wrist – which was clearly some kind of status symbol, if only Andi had the knowledge to recognise it. She was more of a £4.99-watch-from-Argos kind of girl, so it didn’t mean much to her. Anyway, that car was a giant phallic symbol if ever there was one. He may just as well have been waving a sign saying I have a huge willy!

  And this was the person she’d spent the last few months slaving her guts out for?

  “Maybe he’ll visit?” said Cally hopefully, hugging the magazine to her chest.

  And maybe George Clooney will pop in too and whisk me away? thought Andi. Then perhaps Brad Pitt will dump Angelina and fight George for me? But until that happy day dawned, it was probably best she got back to her desk before Zoe pounced again.

  Murmuring something non-committal, Andi left Cally to her coffee and daydreaming. Back at her workstation, the computer had finally decided to boot up, but it was still so slow that Andi felt like nipping to Starbucks and getting it a double espresso. Across the open-plan office Jen was typing busily and Alan was stalking people on Facebook. Situation normal, then.

  Beyond them, Leeza’s door opened and her PA peeped out in her tortoise-like fashion to beckon to Jen, who turned the same grey shade as the office carpet. To distract herself, Andi opened Outlook and reread the latest emails from PMB. Opening his mails had been the highlight of the project, and it certainly made a change to work with a guy who wasn’t sleazy but appreciated her as a professional. Maybe the fact that they only used their initials had helped? In any case, he had said that he was so impressed with her work that he would make sure her line manager knew. Andi exhaled slowly. Maybe this was what it was all about?

  She was on the brink of drafting an email asking PMB what he thought of his boss appearing in Cosmo when the office door opened and Jen lurched out. Her eyes were red and swollen and she was swaying as though the floor was moving beneath her.

  “Miranda Evans?” called Leeza’s PA, before Andi could so much as step forward and give Jen a hug. “Ms Clark will see you now.”

  Zoe’s face was a study in gloating. Andi’s stomach went into free fall.

  Something told her no amount of positive thinking would help now.

  Chapter 5

  Andi didn’t need to be psychic to know that this meeting wasn’t going to end well: Jen’s sobs as she crammed her belongings into a box had been a bit of a giveaway, as had the pitying looks from their colleagues.

  None of this made any sense. Jen was
good at her job. Better than good, actually. She was brilliant. As was Andi.

  Andi glanced around her boss’s office in the hope that there might be one friendly face, but no such luck. The door had shut and she was stranded on a plastic seat, floating on a grey carpet sea with nobody to throw her a lifebelt.

  “Thanks for coming in, Miranda,” her boss said coolly and as though Andi had a choice in the matter. “I should imagine you have a fair idea what this is all about, so I won’t make things any more difficult. Times are tough at the moment, as I’m sure you’re aware. I’m afraid we have to let you go.”

  Andi stared at her boss. Let her go? What? Like a hot-air balloon? She had a sudden image of herself swelling to mammoth proportions and floating up over the city, treating everyone to a view of today’s red and white spotty knickers. Laughter bubbled up inside her like a geyser. Help. She was getting hysterical. Get a grip! she told herself sharply. She was about to lose her job in the middle of a double-dip recession and on the very day all her money had vanished. It was hardly a laughing matter.

  “But I’m good at my job,” she managed to squeak once her vocal cords got it together. “I work really hard! Ask anyone!”

  Leeza Clark couldn’t quite look her in the eye. “Rest assured, we will give you an excellent reference.”

  Andi hated to be ungrateful but the last time she went shopping Tesco’s didn’t take references as a method of payment, excellent or otherwise. And Tom might be amazing at spouting Shakespeare soliloquies but annoyingly her bank baulked at accepting those as legal tender. Unless she could come up with something fast, she was stuffed. There had to be a reason to keep her on, something, other than her coffee-making skills, which made her unique to this company?

  Then inspiration struck.

  “What about the Safe T Net flotation? That all went really well. They were pleased, weren’t they?” She was on the edge of her seat now, her hands clinging onto the plastic chair just like she was trying to cling onto this job.