‘Don’t play with your food,” Bernadette tells her daughter, Agatha. Wash your face, she demands. Don’t swear, she says with a tut. When Agatha hurts herself, Bernadette applies the plaster.
It’s an innocuous scenario except Agatha – newly promoted at work, boyfriend in tow – is old enough to have her own children (she’s about to start trying) and has only returned home because her dad is in hospital. She falls back into familiar routines with her mum but from the start Ruth D’Silva’s play explores complicated acts of parental control as well as kindness, the tables frequently turning. Bernadette’s cruelty comes in flashes, her withering tone towards Agatha at odds with how she talks to her framed Jesus. After the interval, the daughter is warning her mother that she’ll be putting her down for a nap.
