Inside a beautiful state residence on the edge of an Eastern European city, four women wait. They talk--Toy Story 2, Prada handbags, chilli vodka... anything. A foreign journalist has arrived at this home to photograph the country’s dictator for a magazine profile.  His wife strains to appear composed even as the mob closes in on the house.  On the cell phone, the journalist labors to get news of the riots on the other side of the river.  And her translator is casually stealing from the house and muddying the conversation by selectively filtering information. Further mystifying things is the sudden arrival of the wife’s best friend. What does the wife know of her husband’s alleged atrocities? What terrible secret is the best friend hiding? Is she only feigning friendship out of political necessity? As snow falls outside, civil war looms ever nearer, and in the end, it becomes clear that the wife’s dignified patience is not for her husband – who is not coming – but for the mob which is advancing upon the house, and we are chillingly reminded of the overwhelming effect people’s choices have on others, and the price that must be paid for our complicity in those choices. With wit and a characteristic delight in the strange, Abi Morgan’s writing brilliantly encompasses both the cruel veneer of our lives and the beating heart within.