The second part of Roy Williams’ epic triptych presents a simultaneously grim and hopeful depiction of life for the black working class in this triumphant state-of-the-nation series.

The birth of your first child should be a day to remember. In the second part of Roy Williams’ and Clint Dyer’s triptych, Delroy (Essiedu) is rushing to be with his girlfriend Carly, as she goes into labour when he is stopped by the police. His encounter with them shapes the narrative, animating him, as the interaction leads to cascading repercussions. This second part of the trilogy keeps much the same from the first instalment, Death of England: Michael. Clint Dyer’s stage is still a red cross that evokes the flag of St George and the walls still contain important personal artefacts. There are differences, though: Carly goes from being represented by a bulldog to Britannia; and Delroy writes all over the red staging before literally tearing strips of them off.

Delroy’s walk conveys bravado and strength. It is a mask for his insecurity and fury at a country that has treated him and his mother with unconcealed racist contempt; a walk that is creatively undermined by Grant and Malkin’s use of sound which creates a claustrophobic, inescapable feel. He is a cacophony of contradictions who becomes increasingly aware of it. One of the strengths of Williams’ and Dyer’s writing is that they often put the most profound truths in the mouths of characters that have said the most destructive things. Thus, it is Carly, whose justified anger at the start of the play quickly veers into racism, that reminds Delroy that he should care about the ‘little people’ – his new child and her – more than the injustices he endures.

Essiedu’s performance, particularly his breaking of the fourth wall and interactions with the audience, bring a levity and energy that is really quite astonishing. In one moment, a member of the audience is asked to play the role of a rookie bailiff and their energetic portrayal is a testament to how much the audience feel a part of the story. By the end, Jackie Shemesh’s lighting is trained on the audience itself, inviting them to play the part of courtroom judges. The racism that Delroy suffers dehumanises and almost destroys him; hurt people, hurt people. What brings him back from the brink is love, community and the hope for a better future. Williams’ ability to make that the loudest message is the play’s greatest triumph.

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