This is the fifth part of a fiction serial, in 906 words.

That evening, Eileen cooked a Beef Stroganoff for dinner, something she hadn’t served up for years. Then she got the Port from the cupboard, suggesting they had a glass or two. George couldn’t fail to notice that she hadn’t turned on the television or mentioned her soap opera. But he didn’t remind her. She was full of chat about the health club, and hadn’t asked him anything about his trip to Lincolnshire.

“Oh, George, you wouldn’t believe how accepting they are, those health club people. Nobody mentioned my age at all, it was as if I was twenty-five again, I tell you. One young man who sold me the bag, towel and costume even asked me if I was busy later. Can you imagine that!”

He couldn’t imagine it at all.

“Naturally, I told him I was married, but I thanked him for the compliment of course. That seemed to be the right thing to do. I might tell the crochet club that I have a touch of arthritis in my fingers. It’s much more interesting at the Health Club, so much going on, and lots to see and do. Who knows, I might even start working out at the gym. They have those exercise bikes that tell you how far and how fast you have pedalled. I reckon I could manage some time on one of those. But before I go again, I am off to town tomorrow to get some sports gear. I felt quite overdressed, I can tell you”.

He told her he might take another drive, exploring places he had never seen. She didn’t hesitate to agree with him. “You do that, love. That’s something that interests you more than me. Besides, I intend to get full value out of the membership fees, so you can expect me to be spending much more time at the Health Club from now on. George couldn’t help feeling a little jealous. Okay, he had gone home with the waitress in Worthing, but now it seemed his wife had a new found exuberance, almost a lust for life. And his trip to Skegness paled by comparison.

That night in bed, Eileen’s glasses of Port had taken their toll, and she was snoring soon after her head hit the pillow. George was tired too, but after a night with no blue light, he was intrigued to see if it came back once he was at home. He lay awake in bed for ages, and didn’t realise he had gone to sleep until the light woke him up at three-thirty. Standing at the window, he could feel the sense of well-being as the light flooded over him. Tomorrow would be a good day, he was sure of that.

But he woke late. Eileen had already left, and as there was no note, he concluded she was off on her shopping trip for sportswear, followed by a day at the Health Club. He just had toast for breakfast, then after his bath he packed an overnight bag. Sitting in the petrol station after filling up the car, he decided to head west, and see where he ended up.

George had never been to the ancient Roman city of Bath, and it was only two hours away by car. Definitely west of where he lived, so that worked into his plan. He was there by midday, and although it was cloudy, it wasn’t cold. Finding a hotel, he had an intake of breath when they quoted the price for one night, and that didn’t include breakfast, which was extra. But he was there now, so accepted the rate. Unfortunately, parking for the car was difficult in Bath, so he decided to drive out and visit the caves at Cheddar Gorge, as the hotel receptionist had told him he could park outside after six in the evening.

It took just under an hour to find Cheddar, and he parked close to one of the big caves and bought an entrance ticket. There was quite a crowd, mostly old people, but one group was being shown around by a female guide, and he was sure that the woman kept looking back and giving him the eye. So he tagged along, litening to her commentary, and it wasn’t long before his guess was proved correct. Outside the cave, the woman waved goodbye to the minibus full of her tour party. Then she turned and smiled at him. He walked over and spoke to her, thanking her for the tour, even though he hadn’t been part of her group. She was very forward.

“Well, if you really enjoyed it, you can thank me by taking me to dinner later. I live in Wells, not far. I can give you my address and you can pick me up at seven. I know a nice place where we can get a table”. He was happy to agree, even though he was surprised by how obvious she was. And he doubted she was more than thirty years old. As well as her address, she gave him directions once he got to Wells. Not bothering to drive back into Bath, George decided to explore the area. An empty minibus had turned up to collect her, and she waved at him as it drove off.

Weston-Super-Mare was on the coast, and not far. He thought he might have a look at the seaside while he waited for his dinner date.