THE RAILWAY CHILDREN

Theatre at the Tabard

★★★★

“the world created is authentically and vividly brought to life”

Over the years, Theatre at the Tabard have built a solid reputation for creating family-friendly alternatives to pantomime over the festive season. In a city that is currently overrun with beanstalks, beauties, beasts and dames; to spend an evening with a company that harks back to traditional story telling is a breath of fresh air. This year, Edith Nesbit’s “The Railway Children” – adapted for the stage by Louise Haddington – further seals the Tabard’s reputation with its heartwarming take on the classic Edwardian story.

We are not plunged into a winter wonderland, but instead gently guided into the remote, rural Yorkshire landscape. There are some Yuletide concessions. Nick Gilbert’s choice of music incorporates hints of carols and, along with some festive snowfall, a modest Christmas tree accompanies the exchange of gifts. Like every ingredient of this show, the balance is carefully measured. Although geared to the younger audience the appeal spans the generations. Like the original novel and subsequent film adaptations, Haddington plucks at older heartstrings as well as playing to a youthful curiosity and sense of adventure.

The story is introduced by Perks, the perky (sorry!) station master, who quickly becomes friends with the three children who have wound up in the village of Oakworth. Uprooted from their London home the three children – Bobbie, Peter and Phyllis – arrive with their mother. Poverty has forced them to leave the city following the false arrest and imprisonment of their father for espionage; a fact that the mother keeps hidden from the rest of the family. Initially the children are unhappy with their new rat-infested home, but they quickly warm to the unfamiliar environment, finding amusement by the railway tracks and waving to the passengers on the trains that pass them by.

Clever and skilful simplicity rules the day, which is reflected in Rob Miles’ set design, manoeuvred by the actors to usher us from the railway station platform, to the cottage, to the rail tracks and to the village’s stone bridges and open fields. Simon Reilly’s smooth direction follows suit, neatly establishing the characters’ emotions as they rise and fall in rhythm to the contours of the storyline, firmly adopting the ‘less-is-more’ approach. Emma Rowe, Max Pascoe and Anya Burlton – as Bobbie, Peter and Phyllis respectively – tap into their childish nature without overplaying the child: Rowe, in particular, as the eldest sibling prematurely grappling with maternal responsibilities. Kirsten Shaw, as the mother, conveys well the era-specific need to reign in her emotions. Yet, although she can shield them from her children, she manages to convey them to the audience. Jay Olpin, as Perks, lights up the stage but can also provide shade, particularly when he reacts adversely to a surprise celebration of his birthday.

Christopher Laishley is the old gentleman who waves to the children from the train each morning. Laishley also plays the local doctor, the exiled Russian writer Mr Szczepanksky, and the children’s father, convincingly differentiating the roles with subtlety. The gentle flow of the show remains intact throughout, even though we are occasionally wanting a bit more boisterous conversation from the kids. Edwardian deference aside, it is unlikely that they would – without fail – allow a sibling’s sentence to finish before starting their own.

Yet overall, the dynamics are quite dazzling, and the world created is authentically and vividly brought to life, spurred on by Nat Green’s lighting (along with Gilbert’s soundscape), mixing evocative hues with bursts of smoke. The landslide scene in which a rail disaster is averted is effectively created with ingenious simplicity. Ultimately this is a moving tale that doesn’t wear its heart on its sleeve – the messages are subliminal – the emotions of hope and courage are felt rather than spelt out. The audience is split pretty much fifty-fifty across the young and the old. There is something here for everyone. You’d be wise to book for this journey quickly before it’s standing room only.

THE RAILWAY CHILDREN

Theatre at the Tabard

Reviewed on 10th December 2025

by Jonathan Evans

Photography by Matt Hunter

Most recently reviewed at this venue:

POSSUM TROT | ★★★ | November 2025

WODEHOUSE IN WONDERLAND | ★★★★ | July 2025

THE BUSINESS OF MURDER | ★★★ | October 2024

DUET | ★★★ | April 2024

THE RAILWAY CHILDREN

★★★★

“above all the show is a heart-warming tale where the messages do not overpower in the slightest”

Let us step back in time. It doesn’t have to be a century. Two or three decades will just about do. If you’re old enough, you will be looking through tinted glasses at a misremembered landscape strewn with innocent pastimes and simple pleasures, unencumbered by material covetousness and technological hunger. We are all familiar with those platitudinal posts on social media that compare and contrast ‘then-and-now’ childhoods. Or invite us to ‘name one thing you could bring back from (choose your decade here) that doesn’t exist anymore’. It is all a game, but at heart we all, at one point or another, seek out the comfort of nostalgia. Well, here’s a short cut for you: the current ‘Theatre at the Tabard’ production of “The Secret Garden” will take you straight there.

Without succumbing to any festive trappings, Simon Reilly’s seasonal offering, adapted by Louise Haddington from Frances Hodgson Burnett’s classic novel, opens like an Edwardian Christmas card. Old fashioned, but not dated. The heart is in the story telling, the humour and the message. The premise might be quite unfamiliar to most twenty-first century children, but this interpretation makes the characters’ situations instantly understandable. At its core is Mary Lennox, the orphaned girl sent to live in the imposing Yorkshire country manor, the home of her reclusive uncle. Daisy Rae captures well the initial wide-eyed alarm at the unfamiliar. Initially a cantankerous old woman trapped inside a young girl’s body, we forgive her ways as we witness her learning and rejuvenating. Rae generously relinquishes lead role status, allowing as much importance to be attached to the others. Most notably Jordan Rising, as the young Dickon, who nurtures Mary, who in turn nurtures and helps heal Sam McHale’s quirky Colin – her bed ridden cousin. Life is austere, but not devoid of devotion and kindness. Mari Luz Cervantes, as Martha the maid, demonstrates a winning tolerance that blossoms into friendship. A companionship shared by Freya Alderson’s housekeeper, Mrs Medlock, albeit from a respectful distance.

Reilly teases little nuances from his cast that add an extra layer to the personalities. Mrs Medlock occasionally, almost subconsciously, pats Mary like a rescue-dog. Rae’s subtle expression of bewilderment when she utters the word ‘thank you’ for the first time. When Mary meets her uncle Archibald for the first time, we are quite moved by the suppressed emotion. A touch too young for the role perhaps, Richard Lounds still manages to convey a reserved gravitas that barely conceals the grief he still feels ten years after losing his wife. Lounds doubles as the gardener, Ben Weatherstaff, for which he is more suited.

It is a story of healing. Gentle. A slow burner, lit by embers rather than fire. As Mary slowly thaws, we are kept warm. The show is well aware of its audience and plays to it, pushing no boundaries but blossoming within its own confines, like the eponymous Secret Garden itself. Simple devices shift the action from the manor’s interior out into the garden, underscored by Nick Gilbert’s suggestive music. Hazel Owen’s design matches the modesty but delivers a remarkable, show-stopping reveal. Complemented by Nat Green’s lighting, a fairy-tale sprinkling of magic lays a sheen on what could potentially be a dusty tale.

The feelgood factor crawls its way under our skin, and once there it stays. Burnett’s messages are timeless, and in this interpretation, they are a celebration rather than a sneer. The housekeeper declares that children should not be ‘looked after too much’. They need ‘fresh air and liberty’. A poetic echo of our modern-day soapbox reprovals. But above all the show is a heart-warming tale where the messages do not overpower in the slightest. Instead, they are camouflaged within the entertainment. It is simple magic. And it is simply magic.

Tag Archives: Simon Reilly

THE RAILWAY CHILDREN

★★★★

Theatre at the Tabard

THE RAILWAY CHILDREN

Theatre at the Tabard

★★★★

“the world created is authentically and vividly brought to life”