Waiting In The Wings

Two women in their seventies had a period of great hostility which has never been resolved. There is a long silence. May takes up her work bag, which is by her chair, and takes out her embroidery frame. She shoots a lot of another swift look and, fumbling in her bag again, produces her wool, needle. She cries a little grunt of satisfaction. Lotta sits quietly staring in front of her. The silence continues.