The audience is met by the lady of the house, Miss Amelia (played by Molly Beth Morossa).  She welcomes us into her home – a guesthouse by the sea, where breakfast will not be served.

The warmth of her greeting is periodically offset by details that aren't quite right: an off-kilter note of sadness in Miss Amelia's tone, the threatening roar of waves nearby, glances toward people no longer present.  As smudges of Miss Amelia's reality seep in, the dimly-lit mould-green surroundings add to the tone, revealing tragic neglect and confirming the dark theme of this story.

As new guests, we're led gently into this timeless and decrepit place. The script is a finely-woven lace of politeness and poetry, wistful passion, puppetry and dance. From the laying-down of house rules, to disconsolate storytelling; from the serious matter of upkeep of appearances, to an upbeat description of local attractions; everything is peppered with odd revelations concerning other guests, and occasional slides into times past.  Over the course of the hour, our expectations for our stay at Greywing are deftly changed.

Morossa excels as both a performer and a writer, and this production demonstrates a winning confluence of skills. She does a splendid job of befriending the audience at the outset, and gently taps the fourth wall with delicate lines of poetry; the lyrical interludes carry an authentic sentiment, then are left, perfectly-formed, as she returns to Miss Amelia's normal voice.  There are tiny surprises hidden around the set too, as Morossa cleverly switches ordinary artefacts into miniature characters.  Other guests are equally vividly drawn simply through the telling of her tales.

As the play develops and we learn more of the history of Greywing's previous occupants, the feeling of isolation and loss builds.  There's a real sense of love and loneliness – yet a glint of the tragi-comic remains threaded throughout.  From start to finish, Morossa maintains and draws us into her grey-green, gothic world; unveiling the secrets of the house and its occupants, she segues between moods, performance styles and characters in a seamless solo performance.