Matureauditions

“I know so well what becomes of unmarried women who aren’t prepared to occupy a position…”

“Thank you, Ms. Vance. That was… unexpected.” matureauditions

She reached the end of the monologue, her voice dropping to a whisper: “I’ve had to put up a pretty fierce battle, but I’ve won.” Then silence. “I know so well what becomes of unmarried

“Well,” the young man said, clearing his throat. “Don’t wait that long again.” The cast list went up the next day. Eleanor didn’t check it. She was in her garden, pruning the roses Harold had planted, telling herself that the audition itself had been enough. The doing of it, the being of Amanda for those three minutes, had been a gift. “Well,” the young man said, clearing his throat

The reedy voice belonged to a young man with horn-rimmed glasses. He looked stunned. Next to him, a woman in a blazer was scribbling furiously. The third judge, an older man with kind eyes, leaned forward.

Yet here she was, clutching a worn copy of the play, her knuckles white. The hallway was lined with them: the mature auditioners. A silver-haired man in a cardigan ran lines under his breath, his fingers trembling slightly. A woman with a chic grey bob and a velvet scarf sat perfectly still, her eyes closed, lips moving silently. Another woman, larger and louder, was recounting her triumph as Martha in Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? ten years ago, her voice a little too bright.