Tom looks round disdainfully at his surroundings in Kyra’s damp North London attic flat. Move too far to the right, and his immaculate coiffeur will brush against the ceiling. But move he must, otherwise he will not get close to the one-bar electric fire that is the only source of heating in the chilly room.

Tom is stinking rich, his money made from a chain of high street restaurants (those were the days, Skylight is set in 1995).

Kyra once worked for him, and became his lover for six years, until his wife found out. Now wife Alice has died, so Tom: “Just happened to be passing, I thought it was time we saw each other again”.

But Kyra has moved on. She has become a teacher in a tough school in a sink neighbourhood, a job she loves so much that she thinks nothing of commuting right across London every working day.

Expensive clothes and luxury holidays no longer mean anything to her.

Having arrived unexpectedly, Tom suggests going out to a restaurant (of course). But no, Kyra wants to cook supper – and beware, don’t arrive hungry because the cooking is real, and it smells delicious.

Conversation is only moderately barbed until Kyra discovers that Tom’s chauffeur has been left outside with nothing to eat, guarding the Merc.

Then sparks really begin to fly.

With increasing vividness, David Hare’s purpose in writing Skylight becomes clear. He has constructed a tree from whose branches hang strongly contrasting political views and sets of priorities.

Tom seems incapable of understanding the values that Kyra now holds dear.

For the play to work, direction and acting must be of a high order, and in this Theatre Chipping Norton Homegrown production the stinging mix of wit and anger in Hare’s writing is well served.

Louis Dempsey’s Tom may be dogmatic and domineering, but he is also much more guilt and grief-stricken than he would have you believe.

Read again: Stephen Fry brings gods and heroes to Oxford

Meanwhile Rosie Wyatt’s likeable Kyra sticks firmly to her guns, but also enjoys nothing more than curling up in her favourite armchair with a mug of tea.

Director John Terry paces the production with a sure hand, and keeps a masterstroke up his sleeve until the last minute.

After Kyra has finally told Tom to leave, in an often unimportant final scene his son Edward (Roly Botha) brings her a delicious breakfast.

The flat is suddenly flooded with glorious sunlight and both of them burst into fits of laughter.

You’ve been asking yourself if any couple with such opposing viewpoints could ever make a go of it, now you realise that another vital ingredient was missing from Kyra and Tom’s relationship – they’d never had fun, they’d never laughed together.