The New York apartment belonging to the successful jewellery designer Camille is a large and lavish affair, tricked out in the sort of retro/chic (set designer Terry Parsons) suitable to one of her station in life. No less fitted to her lifestyle, we soon realise, is the well-built young man whom we first encounter amid its splendours, clad only in the skimpiest white towel.

He is waiter Billy (Steven Clarke), last night’s pick-up for Camille and latest in a long line of toy boys helping to brighten the days, and nights, of this very merry – and very rich – widow.

Alas, he quickly turns out to be precisely the sort of young man that friends must have warned her she would one day find herself entertaining – one wanting more of her money for his services than she is prepared to pay. Much more.

As played – quite superbly – by Rula Lenska, Camille first appears to be a rich bitch whose fate, for most, would be a matter of indifference, even perhaps a source of vengeful pleasure. But as the action proceeds, however, in David Foley’s tautly plotted play, expertly directed by David Taylor, one’s admiration for this witty and resourceful woman grows.

Partly, it’s a matter of learning her fascinating back story. Rags to riches? Let’s just say ‘Camille’ was once ‘Edna’, and that her stonkingly wealthy – and much older – husband died rather . . . er, suddenly.

Certainly, we might take the view that she would be likely to prove a rather better ally in adversity than Ted (Tony O’Callaghan), the apartment’s gun-toting security officer, turns out to be when he is called on to do his duty . . .

The revelation of this enjoyable and gripping production, however, is Steven Clarke’s Billy – and I am not just referring to that fresh-from-the-shower arrival. In his professional stage debut he delivers a nice line in dangerous deviancy masked by an innocent, ‘boy next door’ exterior. Such a skill is much needed, in film especially. I predict Mr Clarke will go far.