At the centre of the story is a young and inexperienced Governess (she is never named) who takes employment at Bly Manor, a remote and forbidding country house. The Master of the house leaves his two wards, Miles and Flora, in her charge, giving her the entire responsibility for how she raises them, and instructing her never to contact him again.

Seemingly alone in the house with only Mrs Grose, the housekeeper, and the two children, she finds herself enveloped in a place with a history. It is a place where everyone seems to know the truth of past events except for her.

The story is told through a recount of events by the Governess to a Man, also unnamed. In scenes interspersed with real-time events, he interrogates her, questioning the reliability of her memory. As the tale unfolds, it emerges that it is not only the Governess who is dealing with psychological trauma. There is worse to come, surely the worst of traumas – that of children whose lives have been corrupted by unsafe carers.

In isolated surroundings, with few others in the picture, Quint, the Master’s former valet, and Miss Jessel, their former governess, were previously Miles’ and Flora’s carers. The nature of their care is conveyed by Miles when he says that sometimes adults do things that children do not need to see.

By having the same performers portray both Miles and Flora and the characters of Quint and Miss Jessel, the production foregrounds the complex relationship between children and their abusers. A trust is established between them, but it is a calculating and dishonest trust. The true horror emerges as the children slip into the behaviours of their carers.

The sense of isolation and feeling of being undermined felt by the young Governess as she seeks out the truth are well conveyed. So too is uncertainty created by ambiguity. What was known of things by the Master and Mrs Grose? And what was known of their role in past events? The doubling of the performer playing the Master and the sceptical Man who interrogates the Governess reinforces these ambiguities.

In the black box of the Rep’s studio theatre, Matthew Cassar’s set and Oliver McNally’s lighting contribute hugely to the sense of place and the feeling of trepidation.

Screens with transparent gauze are moved to create internal and external spaces, from the nursery to the tower above the house, and from the lake to the surrounding woods. Swirling mist and lighting allow characters to appear and disappear without warning, whilst moments of total blackout add to the sense of alarm.

Sound effects, designed by Hattie North, contribute to an atmosphere of suspense. The sound of an ominous whistle is often heard, whilst nursery rhymes played at a slow pace are sinister. As if this was not sufficient, the appearance of apparitions is more than enough to make the skin crawl.

However, in an otherwise strong production, performances don’t always come up to scratch. Delivery is, at times, rather static, with little use made of the stage space available.

There are points when the words are hard to hear, particularly when there are background sound effects. Those spoken by the Governess and Mrs Grose are delivered very quietly on occasion. The casting of Miles and Flora is not fully convincing, with both performers looking far older than the children they play.

Whilst the production stays fully in the mid-nineteenth century, its ending gives a nod to current times. The Governess declares that she will tell her story over and again until she is believed, because once people believe her, they will do something about it. Writer Morgan Lloyd Malcolm’s script is weighty in its dialogue but, nonetheless, is powerful in its punch.

The Turn of the Screw was directed by Nicky Allpress. It was a world premiere by Blackeyed Theatre and Arcola Theatre, based on the seminal ghost story by Henry James

Birmingham Rep’s age guidance for the production is 12+. It runs at the Rep until 31st October. For further information see birmingham-rep.co.uk