Chapter 9

Stan woke up late Saturday morning.

At first he lay still while he put his scattered mind back together. Then 
he rolled onto his back, whispered, "Good morning, love," and went 
over what had happened last night.

With the morning sunlight flickering through the curtains, last night's 
events didn't seem so momentous. Last night he'd thought the 
evening was incredible. He'd spoken to Anne in a non-work setting; it 
had been almost as if they'd been to a dinner date on their own. Now, 
this morning, he felt that he'd over-dramatised it. It hadn't been a 
non-work setting after all. Percy and Rick had been right there at their 
table. And yet...

And yet they'd all but completely disappeared from his mind last night. 
To him, it had felt like the only person there with him was Anne. What 
did that mean?

It meant he'd betrayed Caron. 'Oh, God, forgive me!' he thought and 
he saw in his mind's eye his wife's loving eyes, bright with 
amusement. Did that mean she gave her blessing? 'Do you mean that, 
love?' he asked her, and felt a warmth run through him as it came to 
him that Caron would want him to live on, and that included the 
romantic part of his life too. Stan felt a great weight lifting from over 
him. It wasn't a physical thing, more like an oppressive feeling that 
had now dissipated.

Now he had things to do. Stan went about his morning routine while 
thinking through his next move. He needed to get in touch with 
Belinda or Yves and ask if Anne could come along to the next class. He 
thought he'd better do that as soon as he'd had breakfast. 

He got his morning coffee and a bowl of cereal and sat down at the 
breakfast bar in the kitchen. Over his cereal he thought about what he 
wanted to happen. He wanted to actually go out with Anne, not just to 
a dance class as a friend, but as a boyfriend. Ha! A boyfriend who was 
almost ten years her senior. Did he really think he had anything to 
offer such a wonderful person?

"Oh God, I'm going to have to ask her out!" he groaned. In all his life 
he'd only ever done that once, to Caron, the first time. After that, with 
Caron, things had just... happened. Caron had initiated everything. In 
fact, he'd come to understand that she'd fished for him and hooked 
him beautifully, including the beautifully engineered opening that 
Emma had so brilliantly carried out. In truth, Stan had never stood a 
chance, but he'd gone willingly to his doom.

It wasn't going to be the same with Anne, since she'd expect him to at 
least make the first steps himself. His doubts returned. 'She's surely 
not going to want anything more than a dance lesson with me,' he 
thought.

Well, in the minibus last night she'd consented to taking dance classes. 
He'd promised to make the arrangements, so he'd better get on with 
it, he mused. 'Time passes quickly enough with my woolgathering.' 

Finished with his breakfast, he rinsed out his bowl and mug and set 
them to drain. He grabbed his phone and dialled the dance studio.

After a few rings, he heard Belinda's cultured voice, "Hello, YB Dance 
Studio, how can I help?"

"Hi Belinda, it's Stan Hinch. How are you? Have you got a moment?"

"Oh, Hello Stan. Yves and I are fine, busy but fine. Nice to hear from 
you, nothing bad I hope?" she said.

"No, no, quite the opposite I think. I've got someone who'd like to 
come along to class, if that's all right. But she wants to come on 
Monday."

"Oh, that'll be fine, Stan," Belinda replied. "We'll be starting the 
Quickstep on Monday, so you'll be beginners together for that. Are you 
going to be bringing her, Stan?" Something in her voice told Stan her 
eyes were twinkling, even though she was miles away on the other 
end of a phone line.

"Erm, yes, er, Yeah. Sorry. Yes, I'll be bringing her. The name's Anne 
Berkely."

"Okay then Stan, I'll see you on Monday night. With Anne. I look 
forward to meeting her!" Belinda rang off with the faintest of quiet 
laughter.

- - - - - - - - - -

On Sunday morning Stan once again took himself off into town in 
search of a late breakfast. This time he went straight to Iorio's.

He walked in, nodded at the man behind the counter, said "Hello!" and 
sat on one of the tall bar stools there. The guy, who Stan assumed 
was the proprietor, said "Hi. You were here this time last week, 
weren't you? My name's Tony. What can I get you?"

"Oh, Hi! Yes, I was. It's Stan, by the way. Er, I'll have a double 
espresso and a turkey-bacon panini, please."

As Tony made the coffee, Stan called out over the hissing noise, "I'm 
impressed you remember me with only one visit from a week ago."

"Ah, what you don't know is that I'm friends with Elaine and Susan, 
and they saw you coming out last week as they came in," Tony said. 
"Another couple of minutes and you'd have walked right into them. 
They were just up the road coming here when they saw you leaving.

"So they came in and we got to talking about you, and your friend 
Denise. That's why I remember. Plus, it helps that I've a good memory 
for faces anyway. One double espresso, and I'll just get that panini for 
you."

They exchanged a little more chat, and Stan ate his breakfast and 
enjoyed his coffee, which he followed up with another. 'That should 
give me enough caffeine, better hold off a little now,' he decided.

Other customers came in and Tony became busy.

"Tony, can I have an OJ to go with this, please?" he asked of the 
owner, indicating that he'd go to the back for a while. He took a 
newspaper from the rack and went to one of the booths in the rear. 
Tony brought his orange juice, and Stan settled down to study the 
latest developments in whatever scandal the paper could dig up. A few 
minutes later his reading was interrupted by a woman clearing her 
throat.

"Uh-Hum! Are these seats taken?" asked a grinning Susan.

"Er, no," replied Stan, lifting the paper off the table and folding it 
beside him.

Elaine appeared with the girl's drinks. "Tony will be along in a moment 
or two with our breakfasts," she told Susan and then said "Hello, 
Stan."

"Tony said we'd find you here," said Susan, taking her grapefruit juice 
from Elaine.

"He said you and he had a good chat this morning," said Elaine.

"Yeah, we did," said Stan, a little overwhelmed to find his 
contemplative morning interrupted.

"He also said that the main topic of conversation was Denise," she 
teased.

"Well, er... we may have mentioned her a couple of times," Stan 
spluttered.

"And that you were looking forward to seeing her!" interjected Susan.

"Yes, well, of course, I mean, Denise... she's a good friend."

Elaine looked at Stan seriously. "Yes, she is, Stan. I don't want to see 
her hurt; she's a good friend of mine, too. I got a call from her last 
night from Ibiza. She was about to go out and hit the bars with her 
guy.

"I asked about him. She said he's this wonderful guy who's good 
looking, lives on Merseyside, staying a month, blah, blah, blah. Only 
there a week and she seems to have fallen for this guy, hard.

"I couldn't speak to her for too long as they were on their way out. I 
wished her well... she sounded so happy, it was great. But..." Elaine's 
voice trailed off.

Stan said into the silence, "But?"

Elaine amplified, "But it's a holiday romance."

Stan thought a moment. He said, "I never had one - I never went 
abroad until we got married - but I've heard of them. Still, Denise is a 
sensible adult and she's happy, so what's the problem? Provided she's, 
uh, well, sensible if you know what I mean. I mean, that's an 
assumption, I, er, well, I'm babbling now aren't I?" Stan looked 
sheepishly at the two ladies sitting opposite him with identical grins on 
their faces.

Susan took pity on him.

"I'm sure she'll use a condom if the situation arises, Stan. That is what 
you meant, isn't it?" she said with raised eyebrows.

"Well, yes, but I shouldn't assume, I mean," stammered Stan.

"No, you shouldn't, but assuming and considering aren't quite the 
same thing. You were caring for her. That's fine," said Elaine. "I 
believe Denise is on the Pill, so birth control's okay, but I'm sure she'll 
take other precautions."

"I hope so. I've heard what a night out in Ibiza can be like," Stan said 
with concern evident in his voice.

"True, but it's not your problem, is it Stan?" said Elaine. "You made 
that clear to Denise."

"Not true," countered Stan. "I know you mean I told her we couldn't 
be more than friends, but we are good friends. I care about what 
happens to her. I hope she's happy now and in the future."

"But not enough to give her what she wanted, Stan?" She paused a 
moment, then when Stan was about to interrupt she continued, "Oh, 
never mind, it's not your fault, is it? People are people. You either 
want to be 'involved' with someone or you don't, you can't force it. I 
can't tell you how many times I've felt like Denise, until I met this little 
flower here." Elaine finished by grabbing Susan's hand and giving it a 
squeeze.

"It's not that, I wasn't ready for that sort of relationship," countered 
Stan.

Elaine gave him a look, opened her mouth as if to say something, but 
stopped. She glanced over at Susan, whose hand was still being held 
by Elaine. "No, Stan, that's what you said," Susan quietly told him. 
"That's why Denise is in Ibiza, probably sleeping off a night out right 
this minute."

Tony chose that moment to bring the girls' breakfasts over. 
Conversation turned to other things, and eventually they left the 
coffee shop, parting with goodbyes and air kisses.

- - - - - - - - - -

He'd arrived home from his breakfast visit to the town, wandering 
around his home, his thoughts in chaos bouncing from one irrelevant 
subject to the next. He couldn't be bothered to do much for dinner, so 
he'd ordered in a Pizza. He'd turned the television on, sampled the 
available channels and switched it back off again.

Stan brooded. He was quite good at that. It was Sunday evening, he 
was curled up in his favourite chair with a small glass of whisky on the 
coffee table to his right and a biography of the German WW2 Field 
Marshal Erwin Rommel open in his left hand. He couldn't remember 
what it was he'd read. The drink was almost untouched. 

His thoughts had turned back to Denise, about her holiday. He hoped 
she was enjoying herself, having fun, 'Lord knows she deserves it,' he 
reflected.

Next, he found himself thinking of Anne, of how she'd looked in that 
wonderful blue dress, of her intelligently shining hazel eyes, of her 
lips, that he wanted to... 'Wait!'

'Are you really sure you're okay with this, sweetheart?' he asked the 
eyes that only he could see. Suddenly he was filled with urgent 
longing. Tears filled his eyes as he desperately called out to her 
through a throat almost closed with emotion,

"Caron!  Why did you leave me!?"

- - - - - - - - - -