Some spoilers – seriously, please don’t read this if you haven’t seen the first two episodes.

Overcome with guilt, Wren and her friends try to find out who or what is behind Red Rose.

There’s a satisfying richness to Red Rose as it enters its second act. Rochelle’s death has consequences that play beautifully across her friendship group. This is elegant, nuanced writing, where the characters are so well defined, the key events resonate distinctly for each individual. Kudos to the cast and director, Ramon Salazar. There’s nothing more satisfying for an old hack like me than to see young performers so clearly across the intricate detail of their character arcs. This is work that will serve them well for the rest of their careers.

Aside from the main thrust of the narrative, as Wren, paralysed by the guilt of not believing her friend, becomes determined to unravel the mystery of Red Rose, there are some exquisite sub-strands. Anthony (Ellis Howard) – the healer of the group – is on the gay dating app, KRSH (Hmmm… I wonder what real-world app the writers could possibly be referring to there?), and in a brilliant set piece in a Bolton toilet the audience are terrified for his safety (he’s young enough to be my grandson for God’s sake!). But is this assignation anything to do with Red Rose, or a comment on the dangers of social media notwithstanding the imperatives of spooky TV narratives?

Later, when Anthony has to pretend to be a school mate of the mysterious ‘Jacob’ who he has never met, he wings it with the dead boy’s mother, improvising a portrait of his ideal boyfriend: ‘He had a lovely laugh… and a love of musical theatre’. It’s a sublime blink-and-you’ll-miss-it moment, and it’s hard to know whether it’s scripted or not, but either way it’s an example of what makes this series such a joy to watch. Similarly, the burgeoning relationship between Taz and Ashley (Natalie Blair) with her delicious Princess Diana commentary on anything that happens, makes the show sparkle.

Episode 4 takes the gang to Manchester, where computer geek Jaya (Ashna Rabhero) starts to dissect Red Rose’s software. When Jaya confesses that she didn’t actually like Rochelle much it’s another marker as to the maturity of the writing. There are more superb set pieces in tunnels under Castlefield, and an emotionally challenging strand developing about Wren’s troubled, but violent father, played with sympathetic complexity by Adam Nagaitis.

Verdict: The only reason I’m not dishing out 10/10s for this series is because the ‘Gang-Of-Teens-Stalked-By-Malign-Tech’ tropes are perhaps over familiar, but the execution is superb, and I’m gripped to know who (or what) dunnit. 9/10

Martin Jameson