Grief takes many forms: that’s the core message of this mature and insightful student production, which melds effective dark humour with deep emotional authenticity. Still, one form you probably wouldn’t expect it to take is gossipy office receptionist. Yet that’s who meets our protagonist Amber as she checks into a metaphysical self-help group, which promises to guide her through the famous (and famously discredited) Seven Stages Of Grief.

As we follow Amber on her personal journey towards the promised land of Acceptance, the seven stages are personified by larger-than-life comic characters. Each is well-drawn, and knowingly absurd: “Shock” pops into existence on the verge of a swoon, while “Bargaining” is a posse of fairground barkers. There’s controlled silliness to all these portrayals, reflecting not just the empty-headedness of the advice Amber’s receiving, but also how grief has left her with a shaky grip on everyday emotions and normal life.

Gradually, we come to learn the history. Her beloved mother’s passed away, we’re told, after an untreatable brain tumour and an agonising two-year-long goodbye. As Amber, Gabriella Kinzett ably reflects the struggle to confront a hideous reality, wanting to be kind but often sullenly withdrawn. The remaining three cast members play her mother, sometimes taking turns and sometimes all appearing at once, a striking signifier of boundless love and overwhelming loss.

Wisely, the script doesn’t plod through every one of the claimed seven stages (though the skip-ahead to number six was briefly perplexing, so a little more signposting would be helpful there). Instead, the most memorable and affecting scenes share calmer personal moments: beautiful images of quiet togetherness, expressed in actions as mundane as folding a bedsheet or brushing each other’s hair.

You might think you’ve got the message quite early on – that there are no trite formulas or easy solutions, and that self-help guides are often so banal as to be a problem in themselves. But that’s actually only half the point. The plot’s building towards something ingenious and unexpected, an important note about the supposed seven stages which doesn’t so much debunk as reclaim them.

The ground for that surprise resolution could be better laid – and with the emotional dial set very high from the outset, the production risks exhausting us before it reaches its finale. But overall this is a cleverly-conceived and heartfelt script from Teigan Banks, done full justice by a talented, tightly-knit cast. There may be no sure route back to happiness, but you’re certain to leave with something to think about.