Out of Control

Chapter 1

The last day of her old world. The ducks Fiona had carefully placed in a row over the past three decades now needed judicious rearranging. Just over three months ago, immediately after her sixtieth birthday, she’d had yet another retirement planning meeting with her financial advisor. He’d given her the green light to hand in her notice and start accessing her pension pots and savings.

“The Monte Carlo analysis of your funds shows no risk of you running out of money before you’re ninety,” Frederick had explained.

“Even if we have another stock market crash like in 2008 or 2020?” As a single woman, with only herself to rely on for possibly the next thirty years, she had to be certain that retirement seven years before her state pension kicked in was financially viable.

“Even if that happens. And you have substantial assets in cash which won’t be directly affected by a crash.” He paused. “Together, over the years, we’ve made sure you’ve got a good spread of investments.”

Fiona had nodded. She’d tracked her finances as closely as any of the IT projects she’d managed. She and Rob had come out of the divorce and subsequent house sale with very little, and she’d panicked about building from a standing start and having enough to retire. That was why she’d become a client of Chingworth Wealth Management Consultants, and Frederick in particular, even though at that point she’d had no wealth to manage. Frederick had joined the firm on the very day she’d plucked up the courage to trust a professional with her money. He’d immediately understood that money, trust and men weren’t easy bedfellows for Fiona, and always took care to give her absolute clarity and full involvement in what was going on and what fees she was being charged. When the state pension age for Fiona’s cohort jumped to sixty-seven it felt as though the rug had been pulled from beneath her again, but Frederick had been on hand to explain how the situation could be managed and mitigated.

At the end of the summer, Fiona had spent a couple of weeks studying Frederick’s report and her own spreadsheets before she was comfortable that everything she’d worked for over the years had now fallen into place. When she’d handed in her notice, a ripple of shock had run through her team and the management layer above her.

“You can’t leave us!” her deputy had wailed. “And you love your job — so why go?”

Good question. She did love her job, and she was good at it. But watching her octogenarian mother struggle in the family home after the death of Fiona’s father, and then the months spent helping her downsize into the retirement complex, had crystallised something in Fiona’s mind: there wouldn’t always be a healthy, confident future stretching in front of her. If she wanted to do anything with her life, other than sit in front of a computer and get blinded by spreadsheets, she had to seize the day. And that day was now.

“Because none of us know how long we’ve got before our bodies start to age or we drop dead.”

So here she was, the day after her leaving party. They’d given her a send-off to remember and sent her home in a taxi with a huge bouquet and a generous gift card for her favourite store. Today there were a few sore heads in the office — something Fiona had avoided by the disciplined use of water between each red wine that came her way. Her professional image was not going to be sullied on her last evening.

“What are you going to do with your time?” asked her deputy, who would soon cease to be a deputy and become a fully-fledged project manager.

“Get more involved with what goes on in this town. There’s a retired business persons’ club that I’ve already joined. We combine our various skills and raise money for local charities.”

“You mean swapping one kind of project plan for another that you don’t get paid for? It sounds heady stuff.”

“Don’t be sarcastic.” Fiona took a playful punch at her grinning colleague. “It’s more relaxed than work, and we do fun things too. There’s a Christmas dinner coming up and a couple of weekends away next year.” It sounded tame, but that was how Fiona liked things — well ordered and under control. “I’ll have more than enough on my plate.”

“I must up my pension contributions so that I can join this excitement ASAP!”

“I’ll be doing more running and yoga as well.” Fiona grinned to herself at the thought of spending more time in yoga instructor Meeko’s company — he always sent the class away feeling good. Over the years the two of them had become close, and now she counted him as her best friend.

“And tonight, at five p.m., when you are officially freed from this prison, will there be a celebration? Is there a special person?”

Her project team were continually fishing into her private life and Fiona always fielded them successfully. She and Joe were each other’s secret and would remain so. She simply smiled enigmatically. “Let’s just say, I have plans for the evening.”

“Oooh! And will you miss having us lot to keep in check?” The words were said in jest, but the loss of her work ‘family’ had played on Fiona’s mind. Her current life was carefully engineered but might need some well-planned reworking to avoid future emptiness.

The personal contents of her desk filled only half a cardboard box. She had no family photos on display or mugs declaring her to be ‘A Special Mother’ or ‘A Genius at Work’ or even ‘A Best Friend’. Fiona didn’t do close relationships — Meeko excluded — unless under exceptional, controlled circumstances. Once bitten, twice shy.

She started her round of goodbyes at 4 p.m. and finally handed over her keys and car park pass an hour later.

Tonight was the first time she’d asked Joe to vary their schedule and come round on a Friday rather than their customary Thursday. For two reasons: her leaving do had been the previous night, but more importantly, she didn’t want to make her first step into a new and daunting life alone. This latter feeling, plus the removal of her ‘family’ of work colleagues, made her wonder whether it was time to allow life to become more free-flowing, more ‘normal’, as other people might describe it. But letting go even a tiny bit was a scary prospect that Fiona didn’t know if she could achieve.