Things I Know To Be True centers on the Price family as they navigate love, memory, and the fragile ties that keep people connected even when they ache to change. At the heart of it are Bob Price and Fran Price, a long-married couple whose decades together are tested by the messiness of everyday life and the weight of unspoken truths. Their children push and pull at the family’s foundations, each bringing their own struggles and hopes into a living room full of questions about what it means to stay together when the ground feels unsettled.
Rosie Price opens the play with a raw, intimate monologue from a gap year in Europe, where a spontaneous fling in Berlin with a man named Emmanuel ends with theft and betrayal. The moment snaps Rosie back to the reality of home, a place where the promised safety of a family can sometimes feel more like a stage for old wounds than a sanctuary. The Berlin memory lingers, coloring how she sees love, trust, and risk as she returns to Adelaide and reenters the orbit of her parents and siblings with a renewed, if wary, voice.
As the family reconvenes, Pip Price makes a dramatic move that unsettles everyone: she leaves her husband and two children to start anew in Vancouver. Fran’s disapproval surfaces not only from the fear of losing family stability but from a history that hints at past betrayals. Pip’s decision shatters expectations and nudges the older generation to face a long-buried ache from their own upbringing, while Rosie’s homecoming becomes a crucible for old loyalties and new resentments. Pip’s arc gradually unfolds through a letter she writes to Fran, a missive that forges a fragile emotional bridge after a childhood that teetered on the edge of harm but never fully healed.
Mia Price—formerly known as Mark Price—emerges as a central, transformative presence when she comes out as transgender. Her plan to move to Sydney for hormone therapy marks a turning point for the family, a moment of truth that forces everyone to reconsider what gender means within the walls of their shared history. This revelation shifts the dynamics in unpredictable ways, not least for Fran, who grapples with acceptance and the fear of losing a child to a future she hadn’t anticipated.
Meanwhile, the family’s younger generation adds its own layer of tension through Ben Price. Bob discovers a European car outside the house and inquires about the money behind it, which Ben explains came from hard work. The truth comes spilling out in a later confrontation: Ben has been skimming, a revelation that exposes a casual, dangerous appetite for money and risk that echoes through the household. The interplay between Ben’s choices and Bob’s attempts to guide him becomes a quiet but persistent thread, highlighting how parental discipline and trust can fracture under pressure and fear.
Amid these personal storms, Fran’s relationship with Bob is tested in quieter, intimate ways. Fran reveals she has been saving roughly $250,000 as a “get-out fund” for their relationship, a pragmatic and painful acknowledgment that after thirty years of marriage, love can coexist with fatigue and the urge for escape. She admits she once considered running away herself, but chose to stay for the sake of their children. The plan morphs into a dream shared between them: a possible trip to Kruger National Park, a symbol of escape and renewal. Yet the couple’s chance for a life-altering getaway never materializes, lingering as an unspoken wish that underscores how couples negotiate unmet desires.
As these currents churn, tragedy quietly lands at their doorstep. Fran’s life is cut short by a car crash, and she dies on arrival, never fully reconciling with Mia, never emotionally connecting with Pip in person, never forgiving Ben, and never boarding that hopeful journey to South Africa with Bob. The loss reverberates through the family, testing what remains of their bonds and forcing each member to reckon with the gaps Fran leaves behind. In the final pages, the children return to Adelaide to honor Fran, gathering for her funeral and to face the future without the steady presence that once anchored them.
This story unfolds with a patient, observational tone, letting the family’s memories, regrets, and small acts of care illuminate a larger meditation on time, forgiveness, and the courage it takes to redefine family ties when everything you believed about them is challenged. It is a portrait of resilience, the messy but honest pursuit of connection, and the ways in which love endures even when it is tempered by disappointment, anger, and the ache of what might have been.
