Chesil Theatre 
Chesil Theatre, Winchester
Mark Ponsford 
12 April 2026
Despite having thoroughly enjoyed Charles Dance’s 2004 film Ladies In Lavender, I confess to not having realised – until now – that the original short story by William J Locke was written in 1908, while the film was, in fact, set somewhat later, in 1937. The excellent and informative programme note accompanying the current stage production points out that the play, like the film, is set in that same year, when memories of the First World War were still painful, and the prospect of a Second World War was looming ever more ominously. Life at home had to carry on, although in a very different way, and this story, skilfully and lovingly adapted by Shaun McKenna, is a poignant exploration of a perhaps inevitable situation, made all the more poignant for there being no one individual to blame for it. Sisters Janet and Ursula Widdington lead an essentially ordered domestic existence, until the unplanned arrival of a young stranger throws their routine, and their lives, into a situation both sweet and tragic. It’s probably best not to know any more than that in advance, and allow yourself to be drawn gradually into the story, but suffice to say that this deceptively gentle piece packs a considerable emotional punch.
The staging is exquisite, and as always, the Chesil’s design and technical teams have created an environment in which we can completely immerse ourselves. Ian Fraser’s lovely set is rich in detail right down to the interior skirting boards, and even includes the garden with a glimpse of beyond. (Miraculously, on this small stage, there’s no feeling of being cramped.) It’s all beautifully lit; and the music and soundscapes enhance the piece throughout, with an Act One storm so convincingly violent that you literally expect rain to start coming through the roof. (Don’t believe me? Just wait!) There’s also, early on in the play, a moment of surprise staging that you won’t even see coming.
For a piece that could, in the wrong hands, become so easily mawkish and overplayed, it is a massive tribute to the direction of Sarah Hawkins that everything is handled with subtlety and commendable restraint by her terrific ensemble, becoming all the more affecting as a result, not least on a purely emotional level. Of the many simple exchanges throughout, one question posed is “Why do people fight?” The equally concise response to the question is almost unbearably sad, and one I found myself pondering on long after the end of the performance. It’s a play filled with food for thought. But there are also, to redress the balance, many moments of gentle humour, frequently borne from the everyday routine of quietly lived lives. The Director’s attention to detail is meticulous, not least (no spoilers) in two moments involving a crucial violin; tribute also to the actors involved.
As the play progresses, and we are allowed further into the lives of Janet and Ursula, we begin to realise that despite the play’s setting and period, this is a situation far from unique, no matter where nor when, as the themes of love and loss continue to insinuate their ways into our hearts and minds. Our focus, of course, is largely directed towards the Widdington sisters, and once you’ve seen the performances of Sally Arden and Christina Pye, it’s unlikely you’ll ever again visualise anyone else playing these roles, so fully and convincingly do they inhabit them. Janet, the more stoic of the two, is nevertheless a deeply caring and understanding woman, and watching Sally Arden’s perception and increasing concern, one simply … understands. It’s a beautiful performance, and there’s equally beautiful work from Christina Pye as the initially more “scatty” Ursula, powerless against the weight of her own emotions. These are, quite simply, two of the most quietly astonishing performances I’ve yet seen grace the Chesil stage.
Jozua Berkelaar plays Andrea, the young man inadvertently responsible for the plot’s main development, and is highly effective on every level, not least when conveying a gentle compassion and understanding as the situation becomes increasingly clear to him. His dilemma towards the end of the play is conveyed quietly and powerfully, and whether or not we can accept his decision, we can at least understand it. As Olga, Siyana-Maria Petrova is a strong and striking presence from the moment she appears, and her performance too is imbued with small and intricate detail; while Peter Andrews’ Dr Mead effectively conveys the character’s own conflicts of interest as well as his concern for Janet and Ursula. Some gentle light relief is provided by Caroline Whillans as Dorcas, the kindly (if no nonsense) aide to the ladies, whose eyes alone are capable of vividly conveying both thought and opinion. The occasional basilisk stare means business.
It’s a joy and a pleasure to sit among an audience clearly captivated by so gentle and charming a play, imbued with uniformly excellent performances, and if you’ve been fortunate to obtain tickets for the production (running through to Saturday), then you have a moving and memorable experience to look forward to. The action of the play is bookended by the ladies listening to an orchestral concert on the “wireless”. At the start, it’s music to lift the heart….at the end, it’s music to break it. Just watch their facial reactions, and you may find your own heart aching on their behalf. Which is as it should be. A real labour of love from all concerned, and one I’ll treasure in my memory bank.
