Chapter 6

On Monday morning, Denise found Stan early, before he'd even taken 
his jacket off.

"Stan, I think we need to talk. C'mon," she said, beckoning him.

"Now?" he said.

"Yes, Stan, now."

Stan looked at Denise and said, "Yes, you're probably right."

The Manufacturing Meeting Room was on the opposite side of the 
office from the main windows where morning sunlight streamed in. 
They went into the room and closed the door.

"Denise," began Stan, but Denise interrupted him, saying,

"Stan. Stop. This is my fault. Now, I'm not going to stop going for 
drinks or whatever with you, but I am going to look elsewhere for a 
boyfriend. I think that's what you want, and since you won't think of 
me that way, it's what I need to do.

"If that means that my boyfriend, whoever he might be, doesn't want 
me to spend time with you like that, then that's the way it will have to 
be."

As she was talking, an errant beam of sunlight reflected off a wall 
fixture and caught Denise's hair, lighting it up bright red. Stan was 
transfixed. He tore his mind back to what Denise had been saying...

"So this means we'll still be friends, yes?"

Denise softened her expression and smiled weakly at him. There was a 
curious mixture of emotions chasing themselves across his face. He 
seemed in turn relieved, upset and uncertain. She said,

"Yes, Stan, still friends. But I think it would be a good idea if you 
started finding some other friends to go out with, or found a hobby to 
give you a social life. Even if we're not going to be together in that 
way, I can still be a friend, but I shouldn't be your only social outlet."

"Right. Um, thanks, Denise," Stan said, after a moment. He continued, 
quietly, "You're right, of course. A true friend."

"Yes and this true friend's got work to do!" said Denise, crisply. 
Softening, she continued, "Are you okay, Stan?"

"Yes, fine. Thanks, Denise. I'll see you later."

"And we're still on for Wednesday night!" Denise answered from the 
doorway, before disappearing off to her own department.

Elizabeth, of course, took in the whole thing from her desk. She didn't 
know exactly what had been said, but she could guess the gist of it. 
Returning to his own desk, Stan confirmed it, saying,

"Denise just announced that she's going to be looking for a boyfriend. 
I think I'm relieved."

"I thought that's what you wanted, Stan. But, are you sure?" Elizabeth 
asked.

"Yes. Yes, of course. As Denise pointed out, though, it does mean I 
should expand my social circle a little."

Stan was silent for a moment, and then he continued,

"She said I should take up a hobby or something. I've never fancied 
golf, I can't stand the thought of fishing and I can't dance. Any ideas?"

"Can you play cards?" Elizabeth asked, waiting for the answer she 
knew was coming. They'd played this particular game before. Sure 
enough, Stan came back with,

"I don't gamble."

"Neither do I," it was a challenge. But this time, Stan surprised her, 
saying,

"Okay, you're on. 'Strip snap?' "

Elaine could hear the laughter from within reception!

- - - - - - - - - -

Later that day, Stan thought about Denise's words. He'd never been 
known as a joiner.

He'd actually been reliant on his wife for arranging most social 
occasions and while her group of friends and colleagues at her office 
had initially tried to be supportive, Stan's diligent efforts at turning 
them away had worked to great effect.

In sum, he'd very successfully isolated himself, which had been his 
objective. Now, Denise was telling him that she'd done her bit and it 
was time for him to make an effort to forge, or reforge, some social 
links of his own.

The trouble was, Stan wasn't sure he really knew how.

In the meantime of course, he had work to do as well. So he got on 
with it.

Elizabeth, of course, cornered Denise at lunch. Over their salads 
Denise told Elizabeth what had happened at the Keys, and about 
Stan's phone call. She related the discussion with Elaine at Iorio's 
coffee bar, and finally the decision she'd made to look elsewhere. 
Elizabeth took it in while she toyed with her food.

Privately, she wished Denise had spoken to her first. It was too late 
now, and she wasn't one to cry over spilt milk, so Elizabeth didn't tell 
her that. Instead, she said,

"That's fine. But please, Denise, don't drop him altogether."

"Oh, no, I won't do that. I've told him that we'd continue to be friends, 
and that we'd still go out for a drink on a Wednesday night, unless I 
had other arrangements."

"If you get a boyfriend, he might not agree with that."

"True, Elizabeth, but I haven't got one yet. I'm going to cross that 
particular bridge when I come to it.

"But I'm also going to look for some romance for myself. Stan's a good 
friend, but he's not looking to provide that for me - so he'll have to 
learn about actions and reactions. Time for him to do some looking 
after himself."

- - - - - - - - - -

It was Wednesday morning, and Stan was in the office. Harry, sitting 
at his own desk in the Materials section where he monitored the 
comings and goings of the raw materials and products of The Firm, 
turned to Stan and told him, "I just heard from Shucor. Anne's chip's 
just shipped to the packaging subcontractor. They're saying they 
might be able to get it to us early."

"Great! Sales has been looking forward to getting that chip out. How 
early?"

"Only a day or so, but it's all good. I'll tell Percy." Percy was the 
manager of the Engineering department, although most of the 
engineers there thought of him as an interference.

Stan, from his position outside the department, thought Percy did 
rather well in his job - he let them get on with expressing themselves 
in their designs but kept consistency and timeline well at the forefront 
of the agenda.

Trying to keep the company's engineers in line was like herding cats, a 
difficult process, but Percy was by no means ineffective at it. Stan 
would be delighted to tell Anne that her design was arriving back 
early, as it meant she could get on with confirming that it worked 
properly - 'Evaluation' that much earlier.

Anne, fresh back from her 3-day weekend break, was not upset to 
hear that her design, 'her baby' would be back early. She'd long ago 
laid out the tasks needed to prove it worked correctly and had 
delegated some of those. She quietly went about the lab letting her 
team know it would be early, "Probably a day or two," but they still 
had almost two weeks to wait.

Anne was trying not to show how much she was looking forward to 
this. She had led, cajoled and just plain driven her team on to pay 
attention to every detail, every contingency they could come up with. 
The design had a couple of quite novel features, and they were all 
excited, waiting to find out if the chip worked in practice as well as 
they believed it would in theory. There would soon be some late nights 
for the team.

In the meantime, Denise confirmed to Stan that she would take him 
for their usual Wednesday night drink. Stan smiled and told her, 
"Okay, Denise, thanks. You know I look forward to it." Inside, he was 
grateful, as he still hadn't actually come up with a possible hobby or a 
way of making new friends that he could take seriously.

Around one o'clock that morning he considered making model 
aeroplanes, something he'd done in his teenage years, before 
remembering why he'd stopped. His practical skills had been well 
behind his theoretical ones, and every plane he'd built had crashed. 
'Maybe model cars?' he thought.

- - - - - - - - - -

That evening, Denise appeared at the door of Stan's house, wearing 
'blouse and trousers' of white and red, respectively, with her hair tied 
back and some comfortable trainers. Stan, in black T-shirt and a light 
pair of trousers, answered the door and invited her in while he finished 
getting ready. 

Stan's house was a typical family three-bedroom home in the area. He 
and Caron had wanted somewhere economically sensible but with 
room for guests. The housing development they'd settled on held a 
mixture of dwellings, but most were like his - detached small family 
homes. In common with many of his neighbours, Stan used the 
smallest bedroom as an office, which still left a spare room in case of 
guests. Not that there'd been any of those.

"Have a seat in the living room Denise, I won't be a minute.  I'll just 
make sure everything's switched off."

Denise looked around. Stan wasn't the stereotypical bachelor with a 
home fit only for decontamination, but he wasn't the tidiest person 
either. Books and CDs were all over the living room and a couple of 
coffee mugs were beside what was obviously his favourite chair, 
planted right in front of the TV. Some DVDs were on the table next to 
it. Denise peeked - Stan was going through some old war movies. The 
books were more varied, ranging from romances through science 
fiction to popular science.

Stan reappeared and said, a little breathlessly, "Ready?" So off they 
went.

At the pub, they saw Elaine and Susan, but while the two ladies waved 
and said, "Hello!" they made no move to join Denise and Stan. Denise 
sat, Stan bought some drinks and joined her at the table. The two 
discussed random topics for a while, then Denise said, with a hint of a 
smile,

"So, Stan, have you put any thought into friend-making activities yet?"

"Thought, yes," answered Stan, "but I've not come up with anything. I 
can't just go up to people and make friends, Denise, you know that. 
I've never been able to approach people in that way. I hate parties full 
of strangers. I never know what to say to anyone. As for hobbies, I 
don't think remote controlled model cars were quite what you were 
thinking of?" Stan couldn't quite keep a straight face.

Denise burst into laughter. When she could finally get a word out, she 
said, "No, Stan, not really. You really thought of that?" She couldn't 
keep the smile from her face at the thought.

"Well, I considered aeroplanes, which I used to try to build when I was 
a teenager, but they always seemed to crash because my building 
skills weren't up to it. Even if they were, I couldn't ever fly the darn 
things! So I thought model RC cars were a safer substitute. Then I 
realized, 'Just how many people would I meet doing that?' "

"What else did you consider?" the redhead asked.

"I could get one of those patches of land you see old folk gardening in, 
an allotment. I'd probably end up concreting it over, but you do  meet 
people there."

Denise giggled. Stan's inability and disinterest in gardens was almost 
legendary.

"Then I thought of golf, or fishing. The trouble with golf is hitting that 
tiny little ball with a long stick a long way up this huge garden. I've 
heard even players who say they enjoy it, always complaining and 
frustrated. So that one's out. The only good thing I can say about 
fishing is that I could read a good book, but I can do that in my 
armchair. That doesn't fit either.

"I don't gamble so horseracing or cards are not going to fly. I gave up 
thoughts of squash or badminton - I last played when I was at school 
and never liked either. I think I must be pretty hopeless, Denise."

Stan looked absolutely forlorn. Denise couldn't help herself, she 
laughed,

"Well, you could become a monk!"

Stan grumbled, "Seems about all I'm fit for."

Denise leaned forward and told him, "Not at all. You just need to find 
something that will suit you."

Talk turned to other things, and Denise bought them more drinks. Of 
course, hers was non-alcoholic as she was driving. Stan was being 
careful, too, sticking to beer and only half-pints at that.

There was music playing softly in the pub, more a background to the 
conversation than something to really listen too. Denise vaguely noted 
a new song start and saw Stan's face go blank.

"What is it, Stan?" she asked with apprehension.

Stan's face cleared as he mentally returned to the room.

"Oh, it's nothing, really. This song, Cyndi Lauper's Time After Time - it 
was special to Caron and me. It came out while we were engaged, and 
I can remember holding her close and dancing to it. Slow songs like 
this are all I can dance to, actually - more a 'twirl slowly around' than 
real dancing. I told you, hopeless."

Denise lightly punched him on the arm, saying, "Stanley Hinch, you 
are not hopeless. Stop saying that!"

Later, in the car on the way home, Denise made a suggestion,

"You know, you could take dance lessons."

"Pardon me? I told you, I can't dance."

"Oh, stop being so negative, Stan" she said, pulling up at his house. 
She turned off the engine and looked at him...

"Ballroom dancing. There are all sorts of places offering to teach it 
these days. It's not physically demanding, well, not at the beginner's 
level anyway, so your lack of fitness and sporting prowess is no 
obstacle.

"You can't dance because you haven't tried. Take lessons and learn. 
Not only is it a useful skill in itself, going to the studio and taking the 
lessons there is a way of meeting people."

In the dark, Stan couldn't really make out her face properly. There was 
something in Denise's voice that made him ask,

"How do you know this, Denise?"

"It's where Raoul and I first met. Actually I think now he was only 
there to pick up girls because he could dance pretty well anyway. 

She paused, then continued,

"It's a good idea though, Stan. Think about it. I'll give you the address 
and phone number of the studio tomorrow if you'd like"

"I'll think about it Denise. I promise."

- - - - - - - - - -

The following day when Stan found Denise, she gave him a piece of 
paper with the address and phone number of YB Dance Studio. It also 
gave a website address.

He punched up the website on his computer, and found that it was run 
by a former professional dancer and his wife, Yves and Belinda. He 
picked up his telephone and dialled.

"Hello, YB Dance Studio, Belinda Navarre speaking. How may I help?" 
came a beautifully spoken and very feminine voice from the receiver.

"Hello, yes. My name is Hinch, and I'd like to enquire about beginner's 
ballroom..."

A short while later Stan had himself an opening at the next beginner's 
session on Monday. He was sure that the pride he felt in doing this 
was quite absurd, but he couldn't deny that he felt it.

Elizabeth had listened to his side of the call.

"Dance lessons? Now that's a very good idea. What made you think of 
that?" she asked.

"Wasn't my idea, it was Denise's. I agree though, it is a good idea. 
We'll find out how good on Monday night. I expect the share price of 
protective footwear to go up soon, Elizabeth, now might be a good 
time to buy some," he joked.

"Get away with you, you'll be fine," she told him. "You just need a few 
lessons to get your confidence and you'll be off and running!"

Stan quickly went to find Denise and told her. She said, "Belinda's 
lovely. She's a genuine lady, went through all of the west end 
debutante stuff, you know? But she's totally in love with Yves. He's a 
real charmer, but she doesn't let him get away with anything.

"The two of them on a dance floor are magical though, Stan. Pay 
attention to them, believe in yourself and before you know it you'll be 
dancing up a storm!"

"Um... Do you know if that Raoul is still around, Denise? I'd feel, well, 
awkward meeting him, I think," Stan said. Denise looked a little 
startled, but recovered to say,

"D'you know, I'm not sure. I think he might be." She touched his arm. 
"Stan, don't do anything silly. Raoul was a rat, but that was in the 
past. It's not like you'll be dancing with him, is it?"

- - - - - - - - - -

The following Monday saw Stan driving to the studio in a suit, wearing 
some old but smart and comfortable shoes. It was about a thirty-
minute drive from his house in the nearby town and he was getting 
more nervous every minute.

"Are you sure this is a good idea, sweetheart?" he asked. The laughing 
dark eyes that only he could see were absolutely certain it was.

'What if I'm the only newcomer? What happens then? Will I be 
expected to dance properly straight away? I can't dance, this is silly,' 
he thought. Well. He'd find out soon enough, because he was here. 
Now all he had to do was park. He found a space around the corner.

The dance studio was an old red brick primary school hall. The sign 
saying YB Dance was hanging in place of the old school name, 
otherwise not much seemed to have been altered since young children 
had run around in the playground. In the failing light, Stan could still 
make out the markings on the asphalt for the games kids had played, 
fading and patchy but still there.

He opened the door and was met by a lady. She was definitely a lady, 
her carriage and the way she extended an arm to him told of genteel 
breeding.

"Hello, you must be Stanley. My name is Belinda Navarre," she told 
him in an accent that ought to have cut windows out of their frames. 

"I'm very pleased to meet you," Stan said, taking her hand. For a 
moment, he thought of raising her hand to his lips, as he'd seen in old 
movies. Fortunately, he thought better of it, shaking her hand lightly 
instead.

Belinda was a tall lady with a slim figure, currently emphasised by the 
elegant yet simple lines of the dark red dress she was wearing. Her 
hair was grey but elegantly sculptured on top of her head. She had 
exquisite bone structure and it was obvious that she'd been a real 
beauty in her younger days.

"Let me introduce you to my husband, then we'll go over the 
formalities for tonight," she said. 'The formalities' were registration 
and payment; her calm assumption that he'd go along with whatever 
she suggested made it impossible to refuse even if he'd been inclined 
to.

Yves Navarre turned out to be another tall, elegant figure. Physically, 
the two dance teachers were very well matched. There was a hint of 
power in Yves, however. Stan couldn't quite get the accent; it wasn't 
quite French, more Spanish.

"Come with me Stanley, I'll introduce you to some of the others," 
Belinda instructed. Stan obeyed.

"For tonight, Stanley, you can partner me for most of the evening, but 
later on we'll let some of other ladies loose on you." Stan looked over 
to her and saw a teasing smile. They came up to a group of half a 
dozen people, 'All looking at the new boy,' Stan thought, a little 
embarrassed.

Belinda blithely introduced the first as Pamela, an attractive young 
lady of about twenty wearing a blue dress that came to mid thigh, 
then went through the remaining introductions. There would now be 
four men and three ladies, so as Belinda told them, "One of you will 
have to put up with me, I'm afraid." Stan was pleased to see there 
was no sign of a 'Raoul'.

It seemed this was a genuine beginners' group as no one had taken 
more than three classes before. Yves came to the group and took 
over, explaining, "Once people are a little more experienced, we like to 
move them into our 'improvers' class on a Tuesday. You were lucky, 
Mr. Hinch, there's often a wait of a few weeks before there's enough 
people to start a new beginners' class."

Yves told them that they'd be learning the basics of Waltz, Foxtrot, 
Quickstep and Tango, beginning tonight with the Foxtrot. "Once we 
have that one working, we'll teach you how to Quickstep, then Waltz, 
and finally Tango. If you can do the Tango properly, it's the nearest 
thing to lovemaking you can do while clothed," he leered theatrically. 
There were slightly embarrassed giggles from the ladies, who must 
have heard that before, Stan reflected.

Belinda showed him how to hold her, where the initial positions were, 
and took him through the step sequence. Yves instructed the others, 
"Select a partner, please," and began the music.

After a while, Stan began to lose his self-consciousness and enjoy 
himself. Belinda was superb at putting him at ease, seeming to know 
instinctively when he would make a wrong move and nimbly avoiding 
his foot without fuss. She gaily chatted away while gently teasing 
information out of him about his wife, what happened and how he felt, 
what had got him interested in the class and so on.

When Stan told her that it was his friend Denise's idea to come here, 
she asked him, "Can you describe the young filly?" He did so, 
mentioning her long red hair and freckled complexion.

Belinda said "Oh yes, I remember. She didn't take many lessons, but 
picked up the basics quite well. I heard that she started going out with 
a chap she met here. That sort of thing happens quite often. 
Sometimes I tease Yves about running a dating service rather than a 
dance class. Still, there are many who come back week after week."

Too soon, Yves called for a ten-minute break. The studio supplied soft 
drinks, bottled water, instant tea or coffee in plastic cups, and Stan 
opted for bottled water. Pamela approached him, and asked in a light, 
slightly higher than expected voice, "Did you enjoy that?" Pamela's 
dark chestnut hair was tied simply back, and she had minimal makeup 
on, but Stan reflected that she didn't really need a lot.

"Yes, I did. I was surprised, actually. I was very nervous coming here, 
but they're very good at putting you at ease."

"Yes, they are," Pamela agreed. "You looked terrified at first, but you 
seem much better now."

Pamela was a pleasant, self-confident young woman who was 
attending a local university. She wanted to go into Marketing once 
she'd graduated. She told Stan that the ability to dance would 
probably be useful, since it taught poise and elegance that made 
anyone look more self confident than they really were, and a lot of 
presentations needed just that to make them work.

"With enough confidence you can sell anything to anyone!" she 
declared. Stan nodded, unable to disagree openly with the girl, but 
inwardly not quite so sure - there had to be a product worth selling 
first, he thought.

Belinda called the break over, and picked Pamela's previous partner to 
dance with. Pamela shrugged a little and turned to Stan. "You've got 
me!" she said. The music began, Yves counted them in, and off they 
went.

Stan was concentrating much more in the second session, intent on 
NOT stepping on Pamela's toes. He got into the rhythm of it after a 
while and once again started to enjoy himself. With about ten minutes 
to go, Yves again called a halt, and said that he and Belinda would 
demonstrate how it could be done.

He started the music, stepped over to his wife, and they put on a 
thrilling display of a Foxtrot. When the music finished, Stan and 
several others spontaneously applauded. Belinda curtseyed, Yves took 
a small bow, the class was reminded to arrive at the same time next 
week, and Belinda went to the door showing each of her pupils out.

Stan thanked Belinda for the lesson. She told him he'd picked things 
up quite well in his first lesson, "so next week we'll try to do it without 
me having to take evasive action!" Stan blushed, but she smiled and 
gave him a peck on the cheek, telling him, "Don't worry, I'm teasing. I 
told you, you did well on your first night."

Stan drove home reflecting that Denise's idea had, indeed, been a 
good one.

- - - - - - - - - -