FOUR STARS

Truly successful stage thrillers from the 20th century onwards being as rare as hen’s teeth (Sleuth, Wait Until Dark, Rope — er, that’s about it), the discovery of another in the shape of Peter Colley’s I’ll Be Back Before Midnight is a theatrical event of some significance.

In one of the Mill at Sonning’s periodic breaks from a diet of comedy, the play is offered in a tautly tempered production — perhaps just a little sluggish at times — that has audiences on the edge of their seats throughout.

Colley, who was raised in High Wycombe, is a prolific writer for stage and screen long resident in Canada. This play, while little known in Britain, has the distinction of being Canada’s most performed stage work across the globe. What a disturbing impression it must be giving of English rural life!

The setting is an old farmhouse in Norfolk, expertly presented by designer Michael Holt with all the verisimilitude traditional at this venue. An isolated old farmhouse, I should have said: as archaeologist Greg Sanderson (Jack Bannell) points out to his missus, it is only — only! — five miles from the nearest village.

The lonely location is hardly likely to endear the property to the obviously fairly fragile Jan (Grace Carter, supplying a compelling impression of vulnerability). We soon learn that she is still in the process of recovery from a nervous breakdown, with drugs of various sorts to hand and a lifeline to medical help in the shape of a hand-held tape recorder (did these exist in the 1950s, when the action supposedly occurs?).

Any discomfort she might have been feeling about the move — designed to place them near a quarry important in Greg’s work — is only compounded at their first meeting with their landlord. Farmer George Willowby (Brian Hewlett), while as jolly a rustic as you could hope to encounter, does have a most unfortunate habit of touching on topics not entirely conducive to others’ comfort. “I hope you folks don’t believe in ghosts.” he says, before launching into a tale concerning the spectre of a young woman murdered in that very room. “This house has seen off a lot of people over the years,” he adds, with more than a hint that the Sandersons might soon be additions to the list.

When unpleasant things start to happen — with, for the audience, gratifying promptness — it is unclear whether these originate in the realm of the supernatural or are supplied through human agency. With just one further character on stage in the shape of Greg’s incestuously doting sister Laura (Alex Gilbert) — a woman for whom the adjective brittle might have been coined — Colley uses all his ingenuity to shift the finger of suspicion around the group. The bloody denouement, which I watched between hands held to my eyes, proves a satisfying conclusion to a very well managed (director Sue Wilson) production.

Mill at Sonning dinner theatre

Until November 23 0118 969 8000 millatsonning.com