Frank Shouldice's new play, Marie Clare, has a new line in split personality: a single mother of two who tries valiantly to rear and educate her children to a decent life - that's Marie - and a cynical get-the-cash prostitute, Clare. Marie appears first in a dressing-gown, sporting a black eye and getting the breakfast. After the kids have gone, Clare appears, wearing a revealing number in black and also showing a shiner.

They get into what becomes a running argument. Marie, long deserted by her man, hates the knowledge of where the house-keeping comes from, not to mention the occasional thump. Clare, being in the front line, has no illusions left and reacts with mockery to Marie's delicacy about keeping the dirt out of the house. They more or less agree on how the slippery slope began; dirty old men in the home town, one their uncle, and a mother who looked the other way.

One night, when Clare is on the beat, she is approached by Michael, a naive redneck who has just inherited a farm after his brother's suicide. He is drunk and, having paid for sex, eschews it in favour of conversation. She drops her guard for once and has coffee with him in a nearby cafe. A mistake, for his loner nature scents romance, and he becomes importunate. It ends, as does the play, in ugliness.

For all of the first act, and much of the second, the scenario seems to have a purpose and destination, although the two female halves do not always fit credibly, as when Marie threatens to throw boiling water in Clare's face. But the social theme is real and the dramatic current strong. Then the arrival of Michael shunts the story into a thematic siding and the inconclusive ending allows a sense of gimmickry to prevail.

The author directs his actors well, although a more objective arbiter might have planed down some rough edges in the script. Flo McSweeney, Abbie Spallen and Pat McGrath are excellent, over-riding some repetition and occasional gaucherie in the dialogue through the sheer conviction of their performances. A near-miss, I think, but worth the collaboration of its audiences.

Plays until August 23rd; booking on: 01-8729977