Sara Weller is Britain’s bravest businesswoman

Sara Weller was a golden girl with a golden life. Her brilliant career as a retail executive was complemented by a perfect family, with a supportive husband and two children.

And then it all fell apart.

Weller, now 63, was diagnosed with multiple sclerosis. After traveling the world for work – at one point taking day trips to India – she now uses a wheelchair.

Even more devastating than the collapse of her health was the end of her marriage in a painful divorce.

However, far from being crushed, Weller has emerged stronger. She uses her unique platform as one of Britain’s leading business people and as a woman with MS to end disability discrimination in the workplace.

Before discovering she had MS in 2009, she had enjoyed an almost seamless climb to the top, combined with what seemed like an idyllic home life.

At her peak, she was director of Argos and perhaps the most powerful woman in British retail. In a previous job at Sainsbury’s, she narrowly missed out on becoming CEO.

MS did not derail her working life for long. She may no longer be the golden girl, but she has earned a much bigger accolade: the bravest woman in British business.

Weller is now an independent director at telecom giant BT and Virgin Money. She is also determined to use her influence to speak out for people with disabilities.

“There are probably about a thousand directors on the FTSE 100 boards and I’m the only one who shares that I have a disability,” she says.

“If that were the number for gender or race, there would be riots. But the fact that there is only one person with a declared disability? No one bats an eye.’

Should there be a target for disabled directors, just like for women? ‘It’s very complex. Many disabilities are not visible and seniors do not want to talk about them, creating a conspiracy of silence. People are afraid that it will be perceived as a weakness. But if seniors don’t talk about their disabilities, then it’s a conspiracy of silence.”

Her next project is a first day of action in February to help end disability exclusion. This will help companies better include people with disabilities. “Some of the toughest business people have been the most supportive,” she says.

‘I would like seniors to share their experiences with disabilities. I would like to see transparent reporting. The emphasis should be on line managers. They make the difference between people who feel included and who feel excluded.’

She is brutally honest about her emotions and says she considers her disability “a failure and a mistake.” Even though I know logically that it is not the case, I still feel like less of a person.’ No one else would even remotely agree. Her latest achievement is completing the London Marathon in her wheelchair, raising a quarter of a million pounds for the MS Society.

Most people would be exhausted just having to navigate her daily life – there are problems entering buildings, crossing roads and going to the toilet – let alone being a director on top of that from a top company.

She is understandably ambivalent about her condition. She not only sees it as a flaw, but also recognizes it as a superpower, one that has allowed her to make a much bigger impact.

‘Without that I would have just been a director, like so many others. But the combination of my career and my MS allows me to do things that no one else can,” she says.

Even before her diagnosis, Weller, as a woman from a modest family background, had defied the odds to reach the top in the British corporate world, which at the start of her career was still dominated by privately educated men.

She grew up in Weymouth, Dorset, attended the local grammar school and won a place at New College Oxford to study chemistry. “I had a lot of problems socially and a little academically,” she says. She excelled despite her self-doubts, gaining a first-class degree and a research award and playing badminton for university.

Weller learned to be resilient at an early age. Her father died when she was only fourteen. She and her older sister, Fiona, had to be self-reliant because their mother, now 96, was busy caring for their father. “Overwhelmingly, that was a good thing. The marginal disadvantage is that I am reluctant to ask for help.’

‘My mother wasn’t a rabid feminist, but she definitely believed that women could do things. She has always had my back, and that is the most powerful thing there is.

That’s what I try to do with my children.’

Her first job was at Mars, which at the time was a breeding ground for future CEOs. Her contemporaries included Allan Leighton, who became boss of Asda, and Richard Baker, a former chef at Boots.

After working on filled chocolate bars including Bounty, Twix and Snickers, she left when it became too difficult to juggle the job with her two children, Sophie and Adam, now both adults.

Her later roles include a senior role at Sainsbury’s, where she was promoted to the top job by Justin King in 2004. “Justin started at Mars the same day I did, so you can imagine what that felt like,” she says.

Does she regret never being CEO of the FTSE 100? She doesn’t answer directly, but says she was approached by grocer Morrisons in 2008 and “concluded I didn’t want to do it.”

Around that time, in her late forties, she discovered she had MS. “I was always one to plan for tomorrow because my parents were always preparing for the day my father died. With my diagnosis, my mindset changed to live for today because I don’t know what I can do tomorrow.”

There was more to come as her marriage fell apart. Her divorce in 2014 was “painful on a level far beyond anything else. It was much worse than my diagnosis.”

‘I learned I had MS in a world where I had a supportive family and a career. Suddenly the support system disappeared.

‘It took away the entire basis of my story. My story had to be rewritten. I’ve never wanted another partner for two reasons: the first is that I failed the first time, even though I thought I made a good choice, so why would I think I wouldn’t fail again?

‘And I think: why would anyone want to connect with someone who has a terminal condition? To protect myself from a feeling of rejection, it is easier to say that I don’t want a partner. No one I would want would want me.”

Her life is busy and fulfilled with her children, her wider family, her friends and her work. “A partner should have to fit into a small corner of my world, and that’s not fair. Sometimes I feel a bit deprived when I’m at an event and everyone has a partner, but I chose this path.’

Inevitably, she says, there have been “days where I just wanted to sit in a corner and burst into tears.” ‘But work has always been my security blanket and a reason to keep going. It has become my reason for existence. I can contribute more now.’