Fourteen-year-old Vera was born in water like a fish, and is so interested in water’s properties that she is giving a presentation on the subject. She’s got her own hypothesis about the nature of rainfall, and it’s not one that you’ll find in any science book.
Since the sudden death of her mother, Vera has been observing the rain while sitting alone in the local bus shelter, and has made an astonishing discovery: every raindrop contains an identifiable human emotion, from fury to nostalgia. The former smells like cigarette smoke in unwashed hair and the latter tastes of cheese and smells of crayons.
Alison Carr’s play, performed with a touching, unaffected simplicity by Tessa Parr, tells the story of Vera with emotional directness as she copes with a drought of understanding. It charts her grief, her devastated father’s emotional distance, her attempt to reach him, and the lack of empathy from school friends that leaves Vera with more than enough time on her own to examine raindrops.
The writing is particularly good on the casual cruelty of teenage girls, their dietary obsessions (“legs not Greggs”) and the way the word “we” can be used to exclude. Carr is excellent, too, on the way we are all so hopeless at dealing with other people’s grief: there’s a lovely scene about a lost quiche dish left on the grieving family’s doorstep, a gesture of kindness turning into one of aggression.
Rosie Kellagher’s neat little production avoids drifting towards cuteness and like last year’s So It Goes – which returns to the festival next week – is a reminder that even when grief cannot find the words or tears, it is deeply felt and requires other ways to express it.
- At the Pleasance Courtyard, Edinburgh, until August 31. Box office: 0131-556 6550.
