Jordan by Anna Reynolds with Moira Buffini

Strong, evocative writing and a constantly watchable performance from Allie Croker ensures that the tragedy of Shirley and her baby Jordan will not leave its audience unmoved.

Croker gets right under the skin of Shirley, waiting for the court to pass sentence on her. With vivid, lushly dense lines, she recalls the events which led her from small town Cumbria to her liberation by her biker boyfriend who whisks her away to a heaven in their own seventh-floor flat with sea views.

Writing and performance combine to give an almost too highly-defined picture of the utter emptiness of this young woman's tragic life. A life which, from the inside, is bright with hope and potential. And remains so even when she has her baby and her man starts beating her then deserts her, only returning to use their flat to have sex with his other girlfriends.

If the tension between Shirley's unconditional love for Jordan and her squalid existence is created with sympathy and understanding, the production isn't quite as cohesive as it could be. A variant on the Rumpelstiltskin fairy tale, used to frame the whole, doesn't meld as it could. While the epilogue, imparting a truth that twists a knife in the whole tragedy, needs more certainty.