For 25 years The Woman in Black has been scaring audiences out of their seats with the deeply chilling tale of a man haunted by the titular character.

The UK tour to mark quarter of a century of gasps and screams arrived at Dartford’s Orchard Theatre last night, with performances until Saturday evening.

Malcolm James plays solicitor Arthur Kipps, a man haunted by events 30 years earlier, who re-enacts them with The Actor, played by Matt Connor.

In a bid to exorcise those demons of the past, he hires the actor to help him tell his story for the audience he intends to invite to what is perceived to be an empty auditorium.

The play makes good use of sound.

The cries from a small boy and he sinks to his death in the marshes and screams of the grief stricken Woman in Black may haunt you, as they have Mr Kipps.

The ominous banging of the rocking chair in Alice Drablow’s remote home, Eel Marsh House, routinely signals danger ahead and matches the quickening rhythmic thuds of spectator's own heart beats.

The sets are sparse, after all, this is a stage play showing two people rehearsing for a stage play.

By using a back projected image of the house, a single door, and a few dust-sheet covered pieces of furniture, you’re soon drawn in.

For those who have seen the play in its cosy London home, the Fortune Theatre, you may be slightly disappointed by the lack of the self-rocking chair.

Whilst not as cosy as its normal home in the Fortune Theatre in London, the play still manages to conjure up a sense of foreboding, making clever use of lighting – and at times no lighting at all, except for a single flame.

The Woman in Black, with her white, wasted face of desperate, yearning malevolence, is rarely seen.

With such low level lights, the audience might catch a glimpse of her ominously moving across the stage or appearing behind a character, and it’s this build-up that leaves you sitting on the edge of your seat.

Depending on where you sit you may also experience the Woman herself brush past you as she moves between the isles in her haunting quest.

The creeping unease of never being sure when she might next appear is one of the play’s major strengths alongside it being a traditional haunted house ghost story with all the associated thrills and chills.

The mists of the Nine Lives Causeway are recreated and the cacophony surrounding the sinking of a pony and trap into the quick sands pierce the ears, utilising a horror films’ best asset – sound.

Whilst I'm not easily scared, the sense of foreboding was palpable.

Judging from the reactions of some in the audience, the fear for them was real (particularly the woman sitting in front of me who kept turning around as the shadow of my arm elongated down the stairs whenever I put my drink down).

The play does not boast to have the ghoulishness and visual horror of the 2012 film.

What it does have is every bit of the spine tingling suspense and realism of the 1983 book, which sucks you in and in those couple of hours makes the tale frighteningly and dreadfully believable.

To say anymore would give the game away, but the twist in the tale might make you want to keep the light on.