Chapter 7
Elizabeth was, of course, all over him on Tuesday morning, wanting to 
know how the dance lesson had gone.

"Well, thank you, Elizabeth. I actually enjoyed it."

"Good. So, what's it like? What did you do?"

So, Stan briefly described the hall, and told her that they'd begun 
learning the Foxtrot.

"Ah, yes. My mum and dad used to do all of those. She tried to teach 
me once, but I never really got it. I was more into rock'n'roll," she 
said.

Then, "Did you meet anyone?" she asked

"Well, I met Yves and Belinda, the teachers. They're wonderful, you 
should see them dance together. Belinda must have been one hell of a 
catch when she was younger, she's still a real beauty. Yves is a 
foreigner, comes from Spain or somewhere, I can't quite make out 
where. Strange accent. But oh, God, can those two dance!"

Elizabeth said, "I'm glad to see they made an impression on you." 
After a moment, she prodded, "Anyone else?"

The look was innocent, the question anything but. Stan knew what she 
was driving at. He thought briefly of Pamela, but dismissed the idea - 
he was far too old. "No, not really. There were about seven of us, all 
beginner level, although I was the only one who started last night."

"So, did you talk to them?"

Again, Stan thought of Pamela.

"No, not really.  Just chit-chat," he said, finally.

Elizabeth regarded him over their desks for a moment. Finally, she 
said, 

"Well, it all has to start somewhere. I'm glad you enjoyed yourself. 
Now..." and they began discussion of work.

- - - - - - - - - -


Stan was a little surprised by Denise's first words when they met later 
that afternoon.

"I've just booked my holiday!" she said, obviously excited.

"There was me thinking you'd ask about my dance lesson!" he teased.

"Oh! Sorry. I forgot, actually. Over the 'net this lunchtime I managed 
to book a fortnight in Ibiza, starting this Thursday, and I can't wait," 
she said in a rush. "But tell me about the lesson. How are Yves and 
Belinda?"

Stan told her they were well, and that Belinda had remembered her. 
He neglected to mention what she'd said about Raoul though!

Denise told him that she'd have to miss their weekly date, "I'll have a 
bit of packing to do, and I want to get some sleep. I have to be at the 
airport early!"

"Okay. Well, you can tell me all about it when you get back. When is 
that?" he asked.

"I get back in the UK on Thursday the seventeenth, " she replied, "but 
I'm off work that Friday as well. I expect I'll be absolutely knackered."

"Yes, I've heard that holidays in Ibiza can be tiring," Stan said, with a 
little mockery.

Denise just looked at him, giggled and said, "You're just jealous!"

Stan said, seriously, "No, not really Denise. You're a grown up woman 
and if you want to party on down all week then it's up to you. Just, 
please, be careful. I've heard what can happen there."

Denise smiled, took his hand a moment, and said, "You're a good, 
caring man Stan. Actually, I expect I'll spend the days lying on the 
beach or next to the hotel pool, and the nights in bed... alone, before 
you say any more!" She grinned, squeezed his hand a little and then 
let go.

"I'll ring you here at work on the Friday after I get home, Stan. See 
you later."

- - - - - - - - - -

Wednesday night came. Stan felt lost, without anything definite to do. 
He thought of going to the pub on his own for a moment, but 
discarded the idea as soon as it formed. Drinking alone was bad 
enough. Drinking expensive soft drinks in a bar full of strangers alone 
was intolerable.

He got a can of beer out of the refrigerator, switched on the TV and 
started hunting through the channels. Half an hour later he switched it 
off again. He picked up a book - John Keegan's The Mask of Command 
- and began reading the author's commentary on Wellington.

He woke up with a start. The clock on the wall said eleven fifteen. He'd 
barely managed a dozen pages, and could remember none of it. Stan 
went to bed feeling the evening had disappeared out from under him, 
and he wasn't sure whether to feel good or bad about it.

Before going to sleep he idly thought of Denise. He hoped she'd enjoy 
her holiday. She deserved to, for she was a good friend.

- - - - - - - - - -

Even though Denise and Stan rarely spoke a lot during a normal 
working day, Stan felt her absence acutely for the next two days. 
However, he was busy and took his mind off the redhead by applying 
himself to his work.

The first preproduction samples of Anne's chip were due in from 
Shucor next week. Stan was reviewing the measurements from the 
wafer manufacturer and the subcontractor's assembly data. All seemed 
fine, everything was within specification, but something nagged at 
him. He couldn't place it, but something was off.

"Bob, have you got a minute?" he finally asked his boss. The Quality 
Manager indicated that he did, so Stan sat in Bob's 'visitor's chair' and 
explained,

"I've been looking at the data we got from Shucor about Anne's chip. 
Everything is within their specification, and Anne assured us all at the 
meeting that it would be okay, but there's something not right. I can't 
put my finger on it, but I've got a feeling. Can I take some time and 
try to chase it down?"

Shucor, the company actually making Anne's device, was reputable 
but well known within The Firm for being a little difficult to deal with. If 
something was pointed out to them as being wrong, they'd never 
admit it, but it would never happen again. First, of course, you had to 
show what was wrong, and getting their cooperation was, well, 
difficult. Stan had done this before and had made a good call saving 
The Firm thousands, so Bob was inclined to trust his subordinate.

Since Stan was up to date on all the routine work, his boss simply 
said, "Sure. Just keep me up to speed," and Stan returned to his desk.

He went back to checking the data from Shucor.

- - - - - - - - - -

By Friday evening Stan was almost convinced he'd imagined the 
problem, and told Bob that he thought he'd probably made a mistake. 
Bob simply shrugged, said "Win some, lose some, Stan. Don't worry 
too much. I'll see you on Monday, you can write up what you did or 
didn't find and we'll wait for the devices. They're due in on 
Wednesday."

Stan went home and spent a simple weekend doing household chores 
and relaxing. On Sunday morning he woke up to blazing sunshine and 
high temperatures, so he decided to walk into town and idle-away 
some time there. It was a leisurely half-hour walk, most of the way 
shaded by the trees planted along The Avenue, the main road from his 
area towards the High Street.

He had a late breakfast at one of the cafés and wandered around until 
lunchtime. He found himself at Iorio's and decided that, since he'd 
never been there before but had heard Denise talk about it, he'd try it.

Stan got a double espresso and then checked the menu. He wasn't 
very hungry, so he just had an Italian-style sausage and pepper 
sandwich, which he enjoyed with a bottle of mineral water. The place 
was quiet, clean and the guy behind the counter was friendly. Stan 
thought he'd enjoy going there more often.

Stan walked home, savouring the day. Brilliant blue skies, high 
temperatures and, for a change, no chance of rain. All these things 
had combined to make for a perfect Sunday. 

Arriving home, Stan hung up his keys and put his sunglasses down on 
the table beside the door. He wandered into the kitchen and got a 
mineral water out of the refrigerator, then made his way into the living 
room.

In the local music store, near the check-out counter, he'd found a CD 
of instrumentals intended for ballroom dancing as a discounted item 
and bought it on impulse. He played it, amused that they'd managed 
to turn the 'Muppet Show' theme into a Quickstep dance song. Also on 
the CD was a version of 'Me and My Shadow' which was intended as a 
Foxtrot and Stan made himself laugh out loud attempting to dance to 
it. It simply wasn't the same feeling without a partner, you could do 
the steps but there was no tactile feedback for when you were about 
to go wrong - so he went wrong. Often.

"I guess I need more practice than one lesson!" he told himself, with a 
smirk.

For no apparent reason he felt Caron's eyes on him, and his mood fell 
instantly. He told her silently, 'We should have done this, sweetheart. 
Like a lot of things we never got around to doing, we just ran out of 
time.'

Stan turned off the music, put the CD away and moped for the rest of 
the day.

- - - - - - - - - -

Stan had been anticipating the dance class on the Monday but, once 
again, on the drive there he started to doubt himself. He tried to shake 
it off, telling himself that the dancing wasn't as hard as he'd thought it 
would be and that he looked forward to meeting Belinda and Yves 
again.

As he drove, he concluded that meeting those two again really was 
something he was looking forward to. He grinned, thinking,

'Then there's always Pamela. Sweet, pretty and smart. It's a shame 
she's young enough to be my daughter!'

Caron and Stan had never had children. It had never been an issue 
between them. Caron had simply said, early on when they were just 
beginning to date, that she didn't want children for herself, she much 
preferred other people's kids.

Stan could hear her now, saying, 'After all, Stan, it means I can give 
all my love to you!'

She had. Their love had been intense. Caron had been asked, while 
the two of them were on a trip to celebrate their twentieth 
anniversary, if they were newlyweds, and they were flattered by the 
mistaken observation and very happy. The old lady who'd asked the 
question congratulated them on their anniversary and said it was 
wonderful to meet a couple who were so obviously in love. Stan had 
told her that the only girl he'd ever loved had been Caron, and that he 
couldn't ever see that changing. His reward was a passionate kiss from 
his Welsh-Irish love.

As always, thoughts of his beloved Caron made him morose and the 
rest of the journey was a mechanical exercise. It was only when he 
reached the old school that he pulled himself back to the present. He 
drew up outside, hunting for a parking space, eventually finding one 
just around a corner, a bit further than last time. Getting out of the 
car, he stood for a moment. He felt sure Caron gave her blessing to 
this. He nodded, said a quiet "Thank you darling," and went to the old 
school entrance.

This time it was Yves' turn to do the 'meet and greet' job at the door. 
He said to Stan,

"Ah, Mr. Hinch. Yes, Stan, I remember. I'm pleased you came back 
after the ordeal of your first lesson!" He winked after a moment, 
showing Stan that he was teasing.

"Go on in and chat with the others. If you should see my wife, please 
ask her if I could borrow her for a moment?"

Stan smiled, and said he would. Then his curiosity became too much, 
and he asked Yves,

"Where does that accent come from? I can't make out if it's Spanish or 
what? And a name like Yves sounds French."

"Ah! I am an Euskaldunak, what you would call a Basque. I actually 
hold a Spanish passport as well as a British one, but my name comes 
from my mother's family and they were technically French. So I'm a 
bit of a mongrel, yes?"

"Ignore him, he's much more than a bit of a mongrel!" came the 
affectionate but crystal clear voice of Belinda, from the doorway into 
the main hall. "It's nearly time to start, Yves." She continued.

"Yes, Bel. But can I have you for a moment?"

Stan and Belinda swapped "Hellos" as they passed in the corridor, and 
Stan moved into the hall.

- - - - - - - - - -

He found that he was nearly the last there. He was pleased to see 
Pamela had arrived, but, as usual, he stood alone against the wall.

One of the guys who'd been at the previous week's lesson saw him 
and approached.

"Hi, Stan!" he said. Stan couldn't for the life of him recover the guy's 
name, so he merely said "Hi!" in return.

"I hope you've got your protective shoes on?" the other asked. 

"I told someone I was going to be doing this, and that she ought to 
invest in a company that made them," Stan, recalling last week's 
conversation with Elizabeth, laughed. 

"Well I've only been here twice before, but believe me Carol over 
there," indicating a larger woman in a pink, full dress, "has got big, 
heavy feet. I swear I had bruises when I left here last time."

Stan reflected that he'd almost crushed a few toes himself on his first 
lesson.

"How many times has she been here before, er...?" Stan was stuck. He 
still couldn't remember the name.

A moment or two passed, then he was put out of his misery...

"Tom, Tom Orbison. It's nice to have made an impression!"

"Look, I'm really very sorry, I don't have a head for names..."

"Don't worry about it. Now, what I want to know is who I have to pay 
around here for a dance with that sweet little thing!"

Stan looked. Tom was clearly meaning Pamela. Stan didn't know what 
to say at all.

"I suppose I will just have to ask her!" said Tom, and he winked at 
Stan, then walked over to Pamela. Stan couldn't hear the details of the 
negotiation, but when he stayed with the girl, it was clear he hadn't 
been told "No!"

- - - - - - - - - -

"Good evening, everyone. I'm very glad you could all make it again 
tonight. Can we all get ready please?" called Yves from the sound 
machine.

"Yes, please, everyone," amplified Belinda, standing in the open area 
that was the dance floor. "This week we'll practice the Foxtrot some 
more, so everyone please select your partner. James, I'm very much 
afraid that you've drawn the short straw."

She was looking at a short, heavyset man in his fifties.

Impishly Belinda continued, "You get me." James didn't look too upset.

Yves and Belinda calling them all together for the beginning of the 
lesson interrupted Stan's study of the pair. Stan found himself paired 
with Carol, and wondered if they'd both get bruised feet.

As the lesson progressed he found that Carol was much better than 
Tom had suggested. He asked her,

"How many lessons have you had so far?"

"Oh, this is only my third," came the reply. "I needed to do something 
to get exercise, and since I can't stand dogs, I thought of dancing 
instead."

"Hmm?" Stan didn't make the connection at first.

"You see, a friend had suggested I get a dog, as the walking would be 
good for me. But I'm a cat person, I have three of the little darlings. 
So a dog wasn't going to work."

Now Stan 'Got It'.

Conversation stopped while they had more instruction from Belinda. 
Stan found he had to concentrate hard to make sure he was doing 
what she told them, but once again found it easier as the lesson wore 
on.

- - - - - - - - - -

During the break period Tom queued behind Stan for drinks, and 
whispered in his ear, "God, I love this! I wonder if I can persuade Pam 
to let me get my hands on more of her!" Stan turned, a little shocked, 
to find a smirk on the other's face.

"What? You never thought of it?" Tom asked, seeing his expression. 
"She's young, pretty, available," with a waggle of the eyebrows, "and 
mine at the moment!"

Stan didn't answer. He merely turned back to the drinks, grabbed a 
bottle of mineral water and walked away to where Carol was standing, 
alone.

"I don't much like that gentleman," she told Stan.

"I'm not fond of him either," returned Stan, "He seems to like Pamela, 
though."

"Well, of course he likes her! She's young... and pretty. If she hasn't 
been chatted up by all the guys here at least once I'd be surprised!"

Stan looked at Carol. It was clear that she was jealous of the attention 
being paid to Pamela by Tom. Stan couldn't work that out at all in light 
of what she had told him. She said that she didn't like the guy, but she 
was jealous over seeing him with Pamela?

It was an emotion Stan just never felt. How could a body feel that way 
about someone they didn't trust? Once Stan felt that he trusted 
someone, he felt no jealousy because he put full trust in that person. 
For him it was either/or, but no matter what, jealousy just didn't 
figure.

He just felt that some people were odd.

- - - - - - - - - -

Their proximity meant that for the second half of the lesson Stan once 
again found himself partnered with Carol. She did catch his toes once, 
apologising profusely, but Stan told her it was fair payback for the 
times he'd done it to her!

Before the end, Belinda partnered him briefly, commenting on his 
improvement. "You're still far too stiff, Stanley, and that's got to 
change, but you've definitely improved. Well done," she told him, 
before moving on to another man.

Once again, the lesson finished with a demonstration. Then, Yves told 
the group,

"Next week our subject will be the Quickstep. See you then, 
everyone!"

On the way home in the car, Stan considered Belinda's comment. 
Stiff? He thought he'd relaxed, although he'd been concentrating on 
the steps, sure enough, and on not stepping on her feet. She can't 
have meant...?

No. That hadn't been stiff for a while!

- - - - - - - - - -