IN CONVERSATION WITH: Liam Holmes

Reading Time: 9 minutes

Mr. Jones: An Aberfan Story explores a deeply emotional and historical event. What inspired you to write this play, and  how did you approach balancing personal storytelling with historical accuracy?  

I grew up in Nelson, a small village just six miles from Aberfan, so the disaster was something that hovered in the background of my childhood, though it was never fully explored in school. We’d mark it briefly every year, but the full weight of what happened wasn’t something that was ever really unpacked. My understanding of Aberfan came more from the hushed conversations of older  generations, people who lived through it, but who often seemed reluctant to speak about the tragedy.  As a child, I couldn’t grasp the scale of it; the sense of loss, the collective trauma—those things didn’t  quite compute for me. 

But over the years, as I revisited those conversations, it became clear that every single family in the  area would have felt extreme loss. What really struck me was how, despite that, there was this quiet,  almost unspoken expectation to just keep going. Life continued, and yet everyone was carrying this invisible weight. It was heartbreaking to realise how many lives were forever changed, yet those  stories remained largely untold, locked away in the silence of the community. 

When I began writing Mr. Jones, it was really important for me to honour those untold stories, to build the play around the very real experiences of people who lived through the disaster. Characters like Stephen Jones and Angharad Price are inspired by real people, their voices, their struggles. I  wanted to make sure that the play wasn’t just about historical events, but about the emotional  aftermath, about the lives of those left to pick up the pieces. It was crucial to me that their personal  stories—the rawness of their grief, the sense of loss, but also the resilience—be at the heart of the  narrative. In a way, it’s a reflection of the South Wales valleys themselves: a place where hardship  and strength exist side by side. So, while the historical accuracy of the disaster itself was fundamental,  what felt just as vital was capturing the human impact, the stories that have often been overlooked. 

The play has received high praise for its immersive experience, including live music and performances. How important  was it to you to create an atmosphere that transports audiences to Aberfan? 

Creating an immersive experience was a real challenge, especially given the nature of the subject matter we’re exploring. I know the valleys, and I know what they feel like—not just the physical  environment, but the spirit of the community. But translating that feeling into a show, into something  that others can feel and experience, is another matter entirely. 

The immersive experience will be set ten years after the disaster, in the rugby club where many of the  community members would gather. It was and still is a space where people come together, to  remember, to mourn, but also to celebrate the bond they shared. For me, the rugby club represents the  heartbeat of the valleys—lively, fun, and full of life. It’s not just about the sport; it’s about the deep  sense of togetherness and reliance on one another. There’s a real beauty in that, and I wanted the  audience to feel it. But I also wanted to capture the underlying isolation—the sense that this  community, while vibrant and full of life, is also carrying these collective wounds, and there’s only  each other to turn to for support. 

I think a rugby club is so central to valley life; it’s a place where people come together in all sorts of  emotions. From the laughter and music to the quiet moments of reflection, I wanted to bring all that  into the experience. It’s why we have 11 incredibly talented actors from the Guildford School of  Acting, alongside Welsh actor Leona Vaughan, who will help to guide the audience through this  journey. Their energy and dedication really brings the space alive, and I can’t wait for people to feel  like they’re stepping into this world. 

From the immersive experience to the transition back into the events of the main show, my hope is to create an atmosphere that mirrors the strength of this community—a place where joy and pain coexist,  and where everyone leans on each other, no matter what.

Stephen Jones and Angharad Price are both described as witty and self-proclaimed in their talents. How did you develop  their dynamic, and what do they represent within the wider story of Aberfan? 

It’s funny because Stephen and Angharad, in many ways, embody the heart of the valleys—two  people who are complete opposites, but who are also deeply connected by the same place, the same trauma, and the same sense of community. 

Stephen, a nineteen-year-old rugby prodigy with a strong Welsh identity, represents what you might  think of when you picture a “valleys boy.” He’s a bit of a stereotype, but one I know intimately. It’s  the same stereotype that rings true for my own family—my dad, uncles, and many others in the  community. The surname “Jones,” for example, is the most common in Wales, and in many ways,  Stephen is the everyman. He’s someone with a big personality, full of light-heartedness and charm,  but at his core, he’s also a product of a community that has been irreversibly altered by tragedy. When  the disaster strikes, it forces a change in him, just as it forces a change in the play. Stephen is not just  a victim of the Aberfan disaster—he’s someone whose life is turned upside down, and his  transformation throughout the story mirrors the community’s transformation as a whole. 

I wanted to write this as a two-hander to really let Stephen’s experience unfold in a way that felt real  and intimate. Instead of just telling the audience about the disaster, we feel it through Stephen’s  memories. We see how he steps in and out of those memories, revisiting them through conversations  with his father. This method of storytelling allows us to see the full weight of the disaster, and also  how it’s shaped Stephen, even in his moments of levity and wit. 

Then there’s Angharad, who offers a very different perspective. She’s a nurse who worked in the local hospital after the disaster, and her role is vital in showing us the broader picture of Aberfan. While  Stephen is rooted in the valley, Angharad’s restlessness and desire for something more outside of her small town are just as important. Where Stephen can’t imagine leaving, Angharad is driven by the desire to break free. Her discontent contrasts with Stephen’s contentment, and that tension between  them is something I really wanted to explore. Despite their differences, though, they need each other.  There’s a complex, almost sibling-like dynamic between them—protectiveness, but also a sense of  reliance on one another. They don’t always know how to define their relationship, but it’s clear that  they have no one else but each other. 

Through both Stephen and Angharad, we’re given a window into a community whose stories have often been silenced or forgotten. They represent two sides of the same coin—how trauma affects  people differently, but also how it binds them together in ways that aren’t always easy to see. In a  way, they are two very different reactions to the same place, but they both share that unspoken  understanding of what it means to carry the weight of a tragedy that changes everything. 

As both playwright and performer, what unique challenges and advantages does wearing both hats bring to the  production process?  

Honestly, writing Mr. Jones has been an incredible experience for me. I’ve never written a play before, and stepping into this new role has definitely been both exciting and daunting. Coming from  an acting background, I’ve always been used to interpreting someone else’s words, so the challenge of  creating my own felt a little intimidating at first. But it’s also been incredibly rewarding. It’s like I’ve  been able to write the story I’ve always wanted to tell, and that process has been both freeing and  humbling. 

Performing the play has been its own kind of challenge. The first time I stepped onto stage in front of  an audience, it was terrifying in a way I hadn’t experienced before. There’s something uniquely  vulnerable about performing a piece that you’ve written yourself—it feels like every word, every  emotion, is so deeply personal. But that vulnerability is also what makes it powerful.

I’m incredibly lucky to have worked with a brilliant director, Michael Neri, who’s been a huge support throughout this process. He’s really helped me step back and trust him with the direction,  allowing me to focus on being the actor and letting him guide the rehearsals. That was necessary — there’s a lot of pressure when you’re wearing both hats and having someone like Michael to shoulder  that responsibility has been a gift. 

I’m also so grateful for the incredible cast and crew around me. Rhiannydd Andrews, who plays Angharad, has brought so much to the role. She’s given the character a depth and energy that I’m  thrilled with, and it’s been such a joy exploring the dynamic between Stephen and Angharad with her.  The lighting design by Massimo Neri has truly elevated the piece in ways I couldn’t have imagined.  And Thomas Moakes, my long-time friend and co-producer, has been instrumental in making this  production happen. It’s easy to say, “I wrote it and I act in it,” but this production is the result of so  many people coming together—everyone plays a crucial part in making it what it is. I’m really proud  of what we’ve created together as a team. The support I’ve received from everyone involved has made  all the difference. 

Mr. Jones has had a successful run from London to Wales. How have audiences in different locations responded to the  play, and what has surprised you most about their reactions?  

The response to Mr. Jones has honestly been overwhelming, and I’m so incredibly grateful to  everyone who’s supported the show along the way. When we first performed in London, I think we  were met with a bit of uncertainty, as many people weren’t familiar with the Aberfan disaster or the  history of South Wales. That’s when it really hit me how important it was to bring these stories to a  wider audience who might not know much about the region or its past. And yet, the audience  connected with the themes of loss, resilience, and community in such a deep way. Even without  knowing the specifics of the disaster, they could feel the emotional weight of the story. 

But the reaction we had when we took the play to Merthyr, which is just outside Aberfan, was something I’ll never forget. That was the moment I felt the true heart of the piece. Many of the people  who came to see the show were directly impacted by Aberfan—some of them had lived through it,  and some had never spoken about it before. They were sitting in the front row, listening to their own stories being told. I won’t lie, I was nervous. It felt so personal, almost like we were walking a fine line between honouring those memories and telling a story that felt true to what they’d lived. But the response we received was beautiful. It was so moving to see how connected the audience was to the  characters and the emotions we were exploring. People were coming up to us afterward, sharing their  stories, expressing how it felt to have their voices echoed in the play. That’s something I didn’t  expect, and it truly humbled me. 

The same kind of warmth and understanding followed us as we travelled around Wales. The  communities there have such a strong bond, and they connected with the play in a way I didn’t realise was possible. They understood the layers of grief, survival, and strength that Stephen and Angharad  go through because, in many ways, it mirrors their own lives and histories. 

As we head back to London to perform at the Union Theatre, I feel like we’re bringing a piece of  home with us. This time, we’re not just introducing the valleys to a new audience—we’re sharing the  story of a community that’s shaped who we are. I’m excited to see how audiences in London respond,  but more than that, I’m grateful that we’ve had the chance to share this story in so many places, each  time with a new level of connection and understanding. 

What do you hope audiences take away from Mr. Jones: An Aberfan Story, particularly those who may not be familiar with  the history of Aberfan?  

At the core of Mr. Jones is the heart of the valleys and the spirit of village communities. I really  hope that, even for people who may not know the history of Aberfan, they’ll come away with a sense of just how much these communities mean to one another. It’s not just about the disaster; it’s about the people, the resilience, and the way life in a place like Aberfan was forever changed—and still is, to this day.  

Aberfan is one of those stories that’s so powerful, but it’s often overshadowed, and I think it’s really  important that we not only remember it but also understand how deeply it transformed an entire  community. I want audiences to walk away with a feeling of connection—not just to the tragedy, but  to the people who lived through it and who continue to carry its weight. What we’re trying to do with  this show is ambitious, yes, but I truly believe it’s going to be a special experience, one that will  resonate with people in ways that are personal and meaningful. 

For those who don’t know much about Aberfan or the valleys, I hope they’ll leave feeling like they’ve  had a glimpse into a world that’s beautiful, heartbreaking, and full of humanity. The story of Aberfan  is, at its core, about people and how they carry their pasts into the future. So, I’d just say—come and  join us. We can’t wait to share this with you, and I hope it stays with you long after the show is over.