Why might a ghost be afraid of the dark? That’s the jumping-off point for Ghost Light, a well-worked tale of paranormal dread set in the Victorian age. Leaning towards horror and with hints of ancient folklore, it wouldn’t seem out of place in the canon of MR James – yet the story turns on an aspect of human experience that could never have been published a century ago.

The narrative takes a few scenes to settle in, but once the foundation’s laid the script cracks on with pace and assurance. Entranced by Charles Dickens’ ghost stories and seeking inspiration for a novel of his own, the sceptical Mr Webster takes a room in a lodging-house, which paranormal enthusiast Mr Price assures him is haunted. Landlady Mrs Sands has a secret in her past, and appears to be missing a husband. Up in the attic the enigmatic Mr Henning pours his soul into tortured letters – compelled by the times to hide a painful truth of his own. Oh, and yes. The ghosts, it turns out, are very real.

The gap between light and dark is central to this play, and the lighting is appropriately eerie – relying exclusively on hand-held lanterns, carried by the cast themselves. It’s a daring move, to place your actors in shadow, and while we lose the detail of their faces the essence still comes through. Mr Henning, framed by lanterns, looks haggard from repressed emotion; tense and twisted forms in the half-light amplify the tension of the plot. And the shadows lead us towards a clever, blood-curdlingly creepy conclusion, with a character hidden in plain sight who we know is lurking there.

Among a uniformly strong cast, Cathy Treble stands out for her emotional reveal of Mrs Sands’ story. Director Philip Holden’s clever use of light is the perfect match for Ian Tucker-Bell’s measured but impactful script, while Dave Mackin’s sound design makes the ghostly presence real.

There are no cheap scares in Ghost Light: the dread works on a deeper level, seeping coldly in as we slowly figure out the details of the plot. There’s a profound evil at work here, and the humans aren’t the only ones who feel afraid, who beg us to leave a light on. It’s a strangely touching motif among a finely-worked production, which might leave you hesitating – just for a moment – as you reach to switch off that bedside lamp.