The further adventures of Stan -17

We were tired from our trip to Cavtat and I would have appreciated just a small quiet meal in the apartment, but Stan had other ideas. He had met a girl on Sunday, when I was off exploring churches, and he had arranged for us to have a meal with her that evening. So putting on my best dress and shoes, I put on a brave face, and we made our way down the 200 steps to the restaurant where we'd eaten the first night we were here.

Stan was so excited, and he did look pimped up for the occasion, more so than usual. She was waiting by the bar when we arrived, and he quickly introduced her to me – Helen Smith from Leeds. She was young and slim and blond and full of life. We found our table and ordered our food and drinks.

“Are you enjoying Croatia?” I said to Helen, just to get a conversation going.

“I tend to agree with Rebecca West,” she said. “Most people think of Croatia as sort of like Athens, but she and I think it is too perfect and self-satisfied: “I do not like it,” she famously wrote. “It reminds me of the worst of England.”

That was a conversation stopper if ever there was one. But luckily Stan came back from the toilets, and was able to keep Helen chatting and in a happy mood.

Seeing Stan and Helen together at dinner made me feel like a fifth wheel – very much the odd one out. I was relieved when my phone rang, and seeing it was from Sven, I excused myself and went outside to take it.

Sven wondered whether Stan and I would like to join him on his trip the next day to Montenegro – which he just found was not fully booked up. He said we could get a boat from our harbour at 8 a.m. , which would meet up with the one he was booked on. I said it sounded a good idea and I would discuss it with Stan and phone him back.

I went back into the restaurant, but there was a sort of curtain part way around our table meaning that my presence was not immediately apparent to the others, and I could hear them talking and when I realised they were talking about me, my ears certainly pricked up.

“Surely you must know that she fancies you,” said Helen.

“Don't be absurd,” countered Stan, “she's an old lady. She's more than old enough to be my mother. Her kids are older than me. She's grey and wrinkly and snores. I can't even bear to think about it,” and they both laughed.

"When she wears shorts her legs look normal from the front, but from behind, it looks like worms are crawling under her skin," he went on, and they dissolved in glee.

“Age difference doesn't mean a thing to some people. Haven't you heard of cougars – those are older women who prey on young men. You can see it in her eyes – the way she looks at you. She's sharpening her claws and is about to pounce.” Another prolonged session of giggling.

“That's really spooky,” he said. “I thought we were just friends, and now you make me nervous to go back to our apartment in case she jumps me.”

“Has she never indicated in any way that she wants something more from you?” Helen persisted.

“No, not in any way shape or form. I do think you're mistaken. You are so captured by my charm that you think everyone else must see it too,” he said.

“Well, I can tell you that I won't say no tonight, if you ask me back to your room. You do have your own room, I take it.”

“Yes, I do, but it might be a bit tricky,” said Stan, but not without much conviction, as she was doing something to him under the table that made him very alert.

I had to make my presence known, because they would be aware that a phone call couldn't be all that time consuming - so taking a step or two backwards, I coughed and then came back.

“Gosh, I've just got something I have got to deal with straight away. I hope you don't mind if I slip away now. I'll pay the bill before I leave. Nice meeting you, Helen.”

“You too, Liz.”

“Don't wait up for me,” said Stan. “Helen and I have some plans for later on,” and she sort of giggled and punched him on the arm.

“I feel quite tired,” I said, and so I probably will be asleep long before you finish your night.

I got back to the room, and poured myself a huge gin. I didn't know what to do. I didn't know
what to think. I could see that this situation was very quickly going to get very uncomfortable all around. I called Sven back and said that Stan was busy tomorrow, but that I would make an effort to go on the trip, but not to worry if I wasn't there, as it would mean that I hadn't made the local sailing.

“I'd have liked to see Stan again,” said Sven, “but it will be nice to have you all to myself,” and I agreed that having a bit of male attention to pick up my wounded ego was just what was called for.

It would take a real effort on my part not to let Stan know that I had heard what he said. I was surprised that my main emotion was embarrassment, rather than hurt. Such a fool I must have been making of myself, and now that I could see it from another perspective, I really felt silly.  And as for our future arrangements, I thought the best thing was for me to end Stan's period of lodging with me. I slipped into my night things and had another big gin while I worked out the details.

I had for some time now thought that my house was too remote – too big and too expensive to run. Having Stan living me didn't help one bit financially – and as my daughters had pointed out on many occasions, he was a liability more than an asset. We used more heating, more electricity, and he
wasn't paying anywhere near his share of the cost of the utilities or food. I paid for this holiday, and have paid all the incidental expenses going along- travel, food, souvenirs. He says he will pay me back – but I very much doubt that I will make an issue of it, if he can't do it all at once. And then the extra bits will sort of get forgotten, as they have done all along over the years. I have enjoyed his company – and benefitted from having someone to make me feel safer. My house is almost in open countryside, and if anyone should decide to try to rob me, I would make a very easy target. So my new plan must be to move and have that the reason for kicking Stan out. I will find a small house without sufficient room for a lodger. It will need to be somewhere close to town and the trains – as I often prefer not driving these days.

I expect without too much trouble he will be able to find a shared apartment with some others his own age – and although he won't live in luxury as he has grown accustomed, it will be a much better soltuuion for both of us in the long run.

The gin having done its magic, I was much more relaxed and happy as I turned off the light
and snuggled down into my bed.

Sometime later I was awakened by a call of nature, and got out of bed quietly. The bathroom was only approached by going through the edge of Stan's bedroom – but I could hear soft noise as I slowly opened the door, so assumed he had the TV on very low.

But it wasn't the TV. The window was open and the moon full, so I got a clear view.  He and Helen were going at it with such vigour and urgency that I was mesmerized. There was no way I was going to go into that room and let them see that I could see them. Their long slim limbs were intertwined and they were so caught up in the moment kissing and sucking that I really felt like I had stepped into the middle of a pornographic film. There was a vague sweet smell in the room that I sort of half thought must be Helen's perfume, but I knew it wasn't anything to worry about it. So as quietly as possible, I reshut my door and went back into my room – with my very urgent problem still very
much on my mind. I decided that needs must, and I used the empty gin glass – which lucky was just large enough, and then crept back into bed. 

I curled into a ball and tried to relax, and finally went back  to sleep.