The Night Following by Morag Joss Page A

and saw him, she thought later. Stan stayed astride his bike instead of fiddling to get his padlock and chain around the downpipe against the house wall, which he would do if he’d had any intention of getting the bus with her down to the Roxy Palace. Added to that, his head was hanging forward the way it did when he had a drink or two in him. Still, he was wearing the bright red scarf she had knitted him for Christmas (with the fancy cable pattern in it, though all he cared about was the color). But maybe she was seeing what she’d wanted to see. Maybe he really meant it when he said the wearing of red was a political act and who knitted it wasn’t important. Maybe his hair wasn’t done nice and careful for her. More like it was only plastered down with the rain and the back of his hand.
    On top of that he was late. Then she realized he wasn’t on his own. A sudden tiny flare drew her gaze past Stan and she made out the shape of his crony Alan O’Reilly lurking over at the curb on his bike, lighting up under the street lamp. She crossed her arms and gave Stan a look.
    “Oh, so you’ve got Alan O’Reilly in tow. Coming up the Roxy, too, is he?”she said, trying not to sound too sarcastic. Stan didn’t go in for sarcasm. “Who’s he stepping out with tonight, then?”
    Stan didn’t reply. Evelyn turned back into the tiny hall and set about getting her hat on, a nice little maroon toque.
    “It’s gone quarter past already. Remember main picture starts at twenty to, Stan,”she reminded him, turning to smile so he couldn’t say she was nagging. Brightening her smile even more, she called past him, “Evening, Alan! Who’s the lucky one tonight, then?”
    She was hoping Alan had just met up with Stan on the street and biked along with him. It was possible, just about. Hat fixed, handbag on her arm, Evelyn stepped onto the pavement. Stan wheeled back a little.
    “Can’t stop, sorry. Roxy’s off. Change of plan,”he said. Alan O’Reilly was glowering over his cigarette. He had a way of screwing up his eyes when he inhaled. Mean-looking, Evelyn thought.
    “Where’d you say we’ve to be tonight, Comrade?”Stan said.
    “Told you.”Alan pulled a sheaf of papers from inside his jacket, and read aloud, “Extraordinary meeting called under Clause 7, right of Ordinary Members to call special or emergency meeting for any purpose including but not limited to those listed under Article 14 of Constitution.”
    He dragged again on his cigarette and stared at Evelyn, smoke leaking down his nose. Stan was smirking now, in the way that told her he definitely had already had a few.
    “Another of your ruddy meetings? No, don’t tell me,”she said, “planning the revolution again, is it? You and the ruddy comrades? We had arrangements for this evening, Stanley Ashworth.”
    Alan O’Reilly threw his cigarette end into the gutter. “Come on, Stan, it’s gone five.”
    “Nobody asked you, Alan O’Reilly,”Evelyn said. She crossed her arms. “So, this meeting of yours’ll be at the pub, I suppose? Stan?”
    “I’ve got to go,”Stan muttered. “I’m seconding him for Secretary, we’re ousting Percy Johnson. And for your information it’s in the Co-op Rooms.”
    Evelyn fought back tears. That Alan O’Reilly was a bad-tempered so-and-so and he was getting Stan the same way.
    “Very well, then. Go to your ruddy meeting. You’re welcome. But if you think you can make a fool out of your fiancée, you’d better think again!”
    “If a meeting’s called, a meeting’s called. There’s no point maithering on,”Stan said, rolling his eyes in Alan O’Reilly’s direction. “Come on, Evie.”
    “Don’t you ‘Evie’me! We’ve got certain matters to discuss, Stanley Ashworth, may I remind you?”
    “There’s time enough for that,”Stan groaned. “I won’t be nagged, woman!”
    Alan O’Reilly chimed in, “Got a temper on her, ain’t she? You want to watch yourself, Comrade. Come on.”
    “Good