For the aspiring playwright, there is nothing more terrifying than sending a fledgling play into the public eye. It’s an enormous risk, a kind of dramatic litmus test in which the strength of their script makes all the difference to their carefully wrought creation finding its wings and soaring or plummeting to earth in a tangle of disappointed hopes. Yet, when the gamble pays off, nothing is more satisfying for both creator and audience alike, than seeing the potential of new talent being successfully realised on stage.

By serving as a means for young dramatists to get out there and prove their literary mettle, the ADC Theatre’s rehearsed reading programme Papercuts should be applauded, not only for the opportunity it provides, but for the consistent quality of what it delivers. The premise of the venture is simple: a new writer is given the chance for their creation to be brought to life by a skilled and enthusiastic cast. Part of the reason that the evening comprises such an enjoyable theatrical experience comes from a kind of wild unpredictability as to the nature of what we are about to witness. The result is an atmosphere of anticipation tinged with trepidation, which, in the case of Hannah Greenstreet’s Round and Round, culminated in delight in the discovery of a unique and authentic new voice.

Centred upon the apparently trivial event of two people meeting on a night bus, what really sets Greenstreet’s work apart is the strength of its characterisation. Beneath a hostile façade, nineteen year old May (Abi Palmer) is a mess of confusion and vulnerability, struggling to forge an independent existence following eviction by her parents. Forty-three year old Clive (James Hancock-Evans) lives at home and cares for his elderly mother, a situation which May describes, with a characteristic curl of her lip, as “tragic.” What could easily have descended into a series of clichéd observations upon generational differences becomes something far more subtle; a thoughtful and darkly entertaining exploration of the manner in which cycles of victimisation are perpetuated,  and do indeed go “round and round”.

In a play which derives much of its strength from its portrayal of human relationships, the choice of setting is inspired, the night bus providing a shady microcosm in which Greenstreet's characters are able to confide in one another, revealing chequered histories and long-buried secrets. Moments of emotional intensity, so often prone to being overblown in the work of the developing writer, are deftly and masterfully controlled, and as a result are rendered all the more poignant.

Testament to Greenstreet’s skill as a writer is that nothing can be taken for granted for long. Our assumptions about Clive and May are constantly and provocatively undermined. Fundamentally, it is the character of May which ensures the play’s success. Her stubborn, childlike naivety (“I like being on my own”) is brilliantly juxtaposed with a devilish malevolency. She is at once complex and engaging, vividly realised and incredibly difficult to pin down. Abi Palmer brings her to life brilliantly, investing her with the perfect mixture of surliness and volatility, flashes of vulnerability constantly visible under her smirking confidence and jaded “whatevers”.

Admittedly, it isn’t perfect. There are times when Greenstreet’s script strays into sentimentality and implausibility, as the willingness of her characters to reel off past events means that establishing background begins to eclipse naturalistic and believable dialogue. Hard-hitting moments occasionally miss their mark. However, simply based on the strength of her characterisation alone, it’s a promising taste of things to come.