It’s 1942, and blacked-out London is illuminated only by incendiary bombs. But in Graham Greene novel The Ministry of Fear some bizarre characters manage to continue living their surreal lives nonetheless.

There’s the hapless Arthur Rowe, who some would say is a murderer. There’s Willi Hilfe, an apparently genial Austrian refugee. There’s Mr Rennit, a private detective. And there’s the fragrant and turbaned Mrs Bellairs, who claims to be psychic.

My own suspicions were aroused by another character, Canon Topping: could he be up to no good?

But maybe those feelings were tickled simply by association — I was watching him in a former church hall.

Now the hall involved is a rehearsal studio, and in preparation was the first stage adaptation of The Ministry of Fear, in a joint production by Theatre Alibi, Exeter Northcott, and the Oxford Playhouse.

“Particularly at the beginning, Graham Greene separated his novels into entertainments, and his more literary, serious works,” adapter Daniel Jamieson explained.

“Ministry was classed as an entertainment by Greene, but was always deemed by critics to be closer to a serious novel. So it seemed we could have our cake and eat it: we could have the best of both worlds.

“It is a rollicking good spy novel and whodunnit, but it’s also got very deep and dark undercurrents.”

Although the novel was first published in 1943, it deals with a thoroughly contemporary issue: assisted death, with Greene’s character Arthur Rowe being described as “a murderer of the best sort”.

“All the characters are interesting, kind of quirky,” said actor Chris Bianchi, who plays Rowe.

“I suppose it’s not giving too much away to say that my character would, in modern times, have taken his wife to Dignitas, to help her die with dignity. There was no malice, it was an entirely benign and considerate thing.

“But clearly he felt guilt greatly, and it weighs heavily on him throughout the story.”

Theatre Alibi’s manifesto includes “the desire to stage the seemingly unstageable”. Which is where the company’s artistic director Nikki Sved comes in.

“There’s a real delight for doing things in a particularly theatrical way,” she explained.

“We are theatre, not film, makers, and we don’t do television. We do things live in front of an audience. We relish the fact that you might be having a bomb going off, or you have to conjure up an entire funfair.

“What’s lovely about that kind of thing is that it squeezes you into being really inventive.

“I remember we once did a play that had a ship going across the stage. Somebody who’d been in the film Titanic came to see it, and that made me laugh: there we were with swirling buckets of water!

“You find ways of working with smaller means that make a bigger impact. The moment that you’ve said to an audience, ‘actually, we’re storytellers’, you can do almost anything.”

Which is all very well if everything goes all right on the night.

Is there worry among the cast that the special effects are actually going to work?

“It’s early days as we speak,” Chris Bianchi replied amid much laughter.

“But there is a certain amount of trepidation, mixed with excitement. But, with one exception, we’ve all worked with Nikki before, and we know she’s very good at making things that aren’t real seem real.

“I’m excited that we will come up with a way of making a bomb that is nothing like a real bomb, but will in fact convey some of the effects of a bomb — not that I’ve ever been in near proximity to a bomb.”

Meanwhile, a fete has somehow managed to survive in the garden of a London square, in spite of the fact that bombs are falling.

In the novel, Greene describes how Arthur Rowe was drawn in: “A helpless victim to the distant blare of a band, and the knock-knock of wooden balls against coconuts.”

He makes his way towards a tent containing the supposedly psychic Mrs Bellairs. The meeting will become crucial.

“Sit down, please, and cross my hand with silver,” comes a definitely male voice from within — in a humorous twist, director Nikki Sved has done a sex switch.

“We thought of Alastair Sim playing in St Trinian’s,” she revealed.

“Although the films came slightly later, it’s the sort of music hall-type characterisation that feels absolutely right. I feel that Greene is writing with a real feel for those sorts of comedy rhythms.”

The Ministry of Fear is at the Oxford Playhouse from Tuesday, March 16, to Saturday, March 20. Tickets from 01865 305305 or online at oxfordplayhouse.com