Home » Current Issue » Threshold » Page 2
The woman who has opened the door is middle-aged, perhaps slightly stout, with a sober, careworn expression which is plainly habitual. She wears a suit, light brown, rather post World War Two in style, the jacket featuring the square shoulders of that era, and the short businesslike skirt that went with it. After briefly acknowledging their presence – perhaps she has resented their knock – she turns to look at the other woman, years younger than her, still sitting at the small round table. The latter does not look in our direction, but appears fully occupied in gathering her things, putting away a tissue in her pocket, collecting her bag, and not forgetting her umbrella, as rain has been predicted for later the same day.
There is something strained and emotional in the atmosphere, some strange and secretive connection between the two which rejects and - again that word, resents - others, including the visitors, the intruders, the uninvited, the invaders. But they must not admit this into their thinking, or betray in any way this perception or the discomfort any participant may feel. The women’s time in the room is over but, as yet, they have made no move to leave. Are they deliberately slowing their departure? No, that may not be true, but it will clearly take a little while more.
Tactfully, as if in silent collusion, the two men look again towards the window, as a bird flies swiftly past. They wait. Now the two women have both risen, and approach the doorway, and them.
“It’s all yours”, says the senior of the two, civilly enough but in a somewhat rasping tone. One man nods, as the two previous occupants pass through the door, past the men and into the hallway, carpeted in its fading mustard and brown pattern.
Now the room is clear of people, except for the new visitors. One man, in a neat blue jacket, T-shirt and pressed jeans, then advances to the small round table, clears away some specks of dust, or dirt, re-positions both chairs, invites the other in, then goes to the desk. The computer, switched on all this while, lights up as he clears the dashboard and submits his individual log in. A few minutes later he brings up a case file/ dossier/ life data (it must be strange to be considered a case, but that is what the other man is).
