Roberta (she is sniffing, her nose inside the vase)... but it doesn't seem to have the right smell. (she smiles indulgently at Joan) We experts feel we can smell the quality of a piece. (she sensuously runs her hands around the outside) You can almost feel the hands that fashioned it. This smells...(another sniff. She recoils)

Joan That'll be the cat.

Roberta Pardon?

Joan The cat. Mr Plonker.

Roberta (confused) Mr?

Joan (smiles) Plonker. That's what my Frank christened him - it. Well, it was a him but we had him converted to an it.

Roberta (rubs her hands violently around the vase) Shall we...

Joan A right plonker (chuckles). That's what he called the rascal after he – it – had done two revolutions in the washer. The name stuck. (sits forward confidentially. Her hand tapping almost tips over the vase) Do you sometimes wonder if the world wouldn't be a better place if more men were converted to 'its'?

John (slips headphones from ears to around neck. He does this every time he talks to them). I'm afraid they've stopped recording. It's rather straying, isn't it? Perhaps, Mrs Creswell...

Joan Joan, dear.

John Er, Joan, could you let Roberta do most of the talking? We're tight on time, do you see?

Roberta (deep sigh) I really am finding all this quite trying. (to Joan) If you'll just nod...

Joan You're looking a bit peeky. A bit yellowy, dear. Have you been...?

(Roberta is appalled that her careful make-up and gym-toned body are being criticised)

Roberta Mrs Creswell I really must...(she grabs her compact and studies her face whilst doing a bit of prodding and pinching)

Joan Joan, dear.

John (quickly) Stand by. Go from the sniffing again, Roberta. Crispin says that's very good.

Joan Who's Crispin?

John Ssh - er, sorry. (listens through headphones) I know, Crisp. But what can you expect? (looks at Joan) Sorry. (he energetically cues Roberta)

Roberta (nose in vase) I'm not smelling as I should because...

John Sorry, Roberta. Crispin feels you'll want to rephrase that. Stand by. Sorry. (cues)

Roberta (sniffs into vase, looks up and freezes) Damn.

Joan It's the cat, dear. He - it - was sick in it.

Roberta I've dried. It's all this...

Joan I’m so glad, dear. There's nothing worse than dampness when...

John (Leans close to Joan's ear from behind and makes her jump. To Roberta) Crispin will keep running.

Joan Very healthy. Where's he off to?

John Mrs Creswell...

Joan Joan, dear. It had eaten a poor little baby mouse, you see. Poor little mite - the mouse, not Plonker. It left its intestines. I mean, the mouse didn't leave its own intestines, Plonker did. He – it - always does whenever it...

(Roberta looks uncomfortable. She wipes her brow. She and John try to stop Joan going on – to no avail)

You look really hot. That's probably why you dried up. Unless, of course... (pats her hand yet again. Roberta snatches it away) Don’t worry. I was a nurse. Comes to us all, dear.

(Roberta is appalled but Joan goes blithely on)

Where was I? Ah yes, Plonker and the mouse. So sad. Anyway, he...

John (involuntarily) It.

Joan Yes, dear. Thank you. Anyway, the little mite obviously started jumping around inside hi - it – Plonker. Though how it managed to do so without its intestines...

Roberta Oh God!

John (clutching headphones. Anguished) Gosh. I’m trying, Crisp. What do you want me to do? Slap a piece of gaffer tape...

Joan And Plonker knocked the vase over... (she biffs the vase over towards Roberta who catches it and stands it up again) and in he - it - went and brought the whole lot up. (chuckles) The noise was enormous. Like a car honking, Frank said. He's good with words. He was in the Inland Revenue, you know. They use wonderful words in the Inland Revenue even though none of us poor souls can understand them. Anyway, on and on it went, honk, honk, honk...

Roberta (very loud) CUT. (she stands)

Wilfred Come on, little Clarry, give your old uncle a nice kiss.

(Clarissa moves upstage of Wilfred and bends down to kiss him on the cheek. She lets out a squeak and jumps upright as he pinches her bottom)

Clarissa Uncle Wilfred, so help me, if you so much as lay one finger on me again I shall wheel you to the window and tip you out, whereupon you will dive head first down five storeys and land on a table of yuppies consuming revolting bhajis and chicken tikkas thrown together by the sinister owner of the Italian restaurant below us. And I hope you land on ten up-ended knives and forks.

Wilfred (claps) Well done, Clarry. Not lost your spirit, I see, by being landed well and truly in revolting Troughton soup. (he wheels himself down stage towards the covered vase and umbrellas) Aren't you going to introduce me to your sprog?

Clarissa (grabs the wheelchair and moves it upstage alongside the settee) Ah, well, er, no, absolutely not. He's been, er, very naughty. Stood in the corner, you see. He'll stay there 'til you've gone.

Rupert (despairs) Oh Clarissa, really.

(Wilfred eyes them obviously not believing a word of it)

Wilfred Well, it is lovely to see you both – even if it did give me a trek across London in my poor old wheelchair.

Rupert Didn't the janitor say you'd arrived by taxi?

Wilfred (blithely) Last few yards. Battery conked.

Clarissa (aside) Pigs might fly.

Wilfred And what I need now is a drink to fortify my poor old war-wounded body. (to Rupert) Did you know I served in the desert?

Rupert (smiles) Was that before or after you served three years in Wormwood Scrubs?

Wilfred (claps his hands with delight) Bulls-eye! He's a sharp one, Clarry, this Richard of yours.

Clarissa (resigned) Rupert, uncle.

Wilfred Rupert, then. (he makes 'Rupert' sound like a rude noise) Yes, very sharp. Not bad for a chap who's spent his lifetime wallowing in revolting soup.

Rupert Don't you start. (goes to sideboard) What would you like.

Wilfred A very stiff whisky, please. As stiff as this wretched artificial leg. (he pulls up his right trouser leg and we see the leg is shiny metal) They say the technology's based on rocket science but this one must have exploded on lift-off. It has a mind of its own.

(Wilfred gives his leg a biff which causes it to shoot out horizontally. Rupert is just delivering the drink and spills the lot. Ice cubes litter the carpet. He goes back to the sideboard)

Wilfred No ice. Didn't I say?

(Rupert reacts by making a lot of noise pouring ice back into the ice bucket and pouring a fresh drink which he brings across and warily hands to Wilfred)

Clarissa You are here, Uncle Wilfred, to clear up a little mystery regarding a certain bequest made to me by your sister, my dear Aunt Elizabeth.

Wilfred (shudders) Used to frighten the living daylights out of me. Made me eat soap. That sort of thing. D'you know, on one occasion...

Clarissa Yes, well, I'm sure it was all well deserved. You were given a little errand by the executors, weren't you?

Wilfred (pauses – then calmly) You mean bringing an old pot down to London for you? Yes, I was coming down anyway so I said I would. It was a worthless bit of junk so I popped it in my trunk along with all my clobber. (turns to Rupert) I'd just worked out a splendid scam – er – deal with this chap in Hackney...

Rupert (takes empty glass to refill. Steers clear of the false leg) Was this on your way to Wormwood Scrubs?

Wilfred (smoothly) Ultimately. There were many adventures in between.

Clarissa What makes you think this old pot, as you call it, was a worthless bit of junk?

Wilfred (hesitates) Ah, well. Your aunt told me, so I expect it was. The house was full of junk.

Clarissa Uncle Wilfred, may you be forgiven...

Rupert I doubt if he will be, old thing.

Clarissa ...Aunt Elizabeth's house was full of delightful works of art...

Wilfred Bric-a-brac.

Clarissa (persists) ...collected over many years by herself and Uncle Alastair on their various assignments abroad. The Middle East, Far East, China...

Wilfred Clarry, you poor deluded child, your Uncle Alastair brought to his various Colonial posts a mixture of disdain, bullying and downright terror on the surrounding native populations he was sent to control only exceeded by Genghis Khan. I doubt if he 'collected', as you call it, any of the junk; he probably pinched the lot. He was a crook of the first order.

Rupert (chuckles) It takes one to know one.

Wilfred (stiffly) Another drink please, Richard. Less water, more scotch.

Rupert (to the sideboard - sighs) Rupert.

Clarissa Never mind Uncle Alastair...

Wilfred I assure you I never did.

Clarissa ...it's Aunt Elizabeth and the priceless vase we want to talk about.

Wilfred Do we really. I don't.

Rupert Well we most certainly do. Tell us more about that journey down from Scotland after the funeral.

Wilfred Nothing to tell, really. I bunged the pot into my suitcase and delivered it to you. (he looks around) Where is it, by the way?

Clarissa (quickly) Rupert will explain that to you. I need to find a certain letter.

(Clarissa exits to bedroom SR. There is a silence. Wilfred drinks and hold up his glass for another. Rupert ignores it and decides to follow Clarissa)

Rupert Just need a quick word with Clarissa. (exits through door stage right)

Wilfred (to self – affectatiously) Clarissa. Clarissa. Sounds like a make of Italian ice-cream.

George I've done a grand job on the window.

(Jimmy leaps up, banging his head and lets out a squeal which he quickly muffles)

Jimmy Aaargh! Who in Hades are you?

George (pleasantly) 'Ello, I'm George Coombe. I thought you was me Dad.

Jimmy (panicking) I can't be. I'm much too young to be your Dad. It's a lie. That's Rosey Barkworth, isn't it? Always spreading malicious rumours. I've fathered hardly any of her children. (pauses) How d'you mean, you've done a grand job on the window? That's not very nice, is it? There's a loo in the hall.

George (affably) I've used sticky tape. Works a treat.

Jimmy (lost) Oh. That's all right then. (leaps up) I've just realized. What are you doing here? And what's this? (holds up Albert’s balaclava)

George It's me dad's. We always wear 'em on night shift. (loudly finishes the milk)

Jimmy (sinks onto chair) You're burglars, aren't you? That's what you are. Right. (stands and makes for the SL door) I know my duty. Do not move. I shall summon my uncle who has a shot gun and often shoots burglars. (louder) In fact I think he’s outside the door now.

(Albert rises from behind the settee. Jimmy gives a yelp)

Albert Well, well, well. Bodger Blethwyn. What a surprise to find you on our patch. 'Aven't seen yer for many a month. Where was we? Park'urst weren't it? Still cocking up your life are yer? 'Ave you met my son, George? Well, of course, you 'ave now. You make a right pair an' no mistake. Laurel an' 'Ardy. (winks at George) Of course yer know the punishment for invading someone else's patch doncher?

George Sorry, dad. I came wiv you.

(Albert shakes his head and leads Jimmy across to the table and they sit down with George)

Albert Yer see what I'm up against, Jimmy. But my Phyl insists he learns a trade an' this is the only one I knows. So 'ere 'e is.

Jimmy Bert Coombe. The last man I'd want to run into – unless I was in my car, of course.

(Albert chuckles and takes Jimmy’s hand in his, lifts it slightly from the table and squeezes it. Jimmy winces)

Albert (quietly menacing) So why are you 'ere, lad?

Jimmy (suddenly realizes) Because I live here – or rather my aunt and uncle do. And I'm on a visit – NOT thieving. Legit. (proudly) I'm in the antiques business now.

Albert Are you now. You never was very bright was yer, Bodger. If you 'adn't said the last bit I'd 'ave been at yer mercy, Gawd 'elp me.

Jimmy What are you getting at.

Albert Watch any good telly lately?

Jimmy Don't you start. My uncle's already been on to me about that.

Albert Well?

George I watched Star Trek yesterday. Or was it the day before? Captain Kirk was...

Albert George, my son, nip into the kitchen and count 'ow many knives, forks and spoons there are in the drawers, will yer? We needs ter know in case we wants to thieve 'em sometime.

George (enthusiastically) Right-o dad. (goes to door stage right and turns in panic) What if there’s more than ten of each? (Albert waves him away and he exits)

Albert (menacingly) Now then Jimmy, wrists all right? Terrible to get them broken now yer in the antique business. Wouldn't look right. An' you couldn't bid, could yer? The end of a promisin' career before you even starts.

(Jimmy looks frightened and rubs both his wrists)

Jimmy (high voice) Look here, Albert, there's no need to be like that. How say we make bygones, bygones. You nip out the way you came and we'll say no more. Just clear up those papers and no-one will be any the wiser.

Albert Bygones, bygones eh? I've never been one for that caper but on this occasion
I fink I could make an exception. 'Ere's the bargain. We won't go wiv any more that what we come wiv and if you keeps mum, you'll have two unbroken wrists to wave at them auctioneers. (mischievously) That's a lovely vase, init? Must be worth a bob or two. Would yer mind if I nicked it – just for old times sake? I've never left a blag wivout at least somefink.

Jimmy (squeaks) NO. Absolutely not. My uncle and aunt would know there'd been a break-in and the fat would be right in the fire. (suspiciously) You haven't taken anything, have you?

George (appearing at the door with a heavy carrier bag) Ten plus eight – I think – knives, ten plus four – I think – forks, and ten plus ten – plus...

Jimmy (loud) PUT THEM BACK.

George Plus seven spoons. (cheerfully) Right-o. (exits)

Albert (hurt) The lad was only countin' 'em. (he gets up, picks up his balaclava and puts it on and goes to the SR door) Come on George, time ter scarper. Long past yer bedtime – and mine.

(George comes into the room and Albert helps him into his balaclava. As George is facing away from him it goes on back-to-front. He leaves him that way and George has trouble reversing it. Albert indicates to George to pick up the sports-bag and George, without being seen by the others, pops the Pools coupon into the bag. [He must make some sort of grand gesture so that the audience see him doing it.] They pull back the curtains and climb through the window)

Albert I won't say it's bin a pleasure meeting you again, Bodger. If ever you think of mentionin' this little get-together to a livin' soul, remember how useful yer wrists are. Couldn't get up ter nothin' wivout them. Cheery-bye. (he gives a little wave then holds his wrist and grimaces) See what I mean?

(With relief Jimmy pulls the curtains. We hear a voice off-stage left and Jimmy is frozen with fear)

Frank Is anybody there? I have a gun which I will not hesitate to use.

Joan (off-stage) A gun, Frank? That's a new one on me. Hadn't you better put something on? I told you to put your pyjamas back...

Frank (off-stage) Shush, Joan. Leave this to me.

Joan (off-stage – rather hurt) Very well ,dear. But do put on your jim-jams.

(Jimmy leaps into frenzied activity. He opens his suitcase and brings out an identical vase to the one on the sideboard, swaps them over, tidies the desk papers, and then grabs a book from the shelf above the desk and sits at the table on the upstage chair and pretends to read. During the last part of the action we hear heavy footsteps on the stairs)

Frank (off-stage) I am heavily armed and have killed many people in my time. And I'm very brave and not at all frightened. And I am wearing my pyjamas.

Jimmy (to self) Thank God for that.

Frank I'm afraid my wife was the victim of a cruel but, I'm sure, unintentional mistake.

Clarissa (stiffly) On the contrary, Mr Creswell, it is I who have been the victim. You see, the vase that ghastly TV woman identified for you as an original worth a very considerable sum of money is, in fact, mine. Bought by you from a person who was delivering it to me on the death of my aunt. Legally, he stole it from me. There was talk of you, Mrs Creswell...

Joan Joan, dear.

Clarissa ...and I switching carrier bags by mistake, and it indeed seemed to be so when that idiot of a TV woman came to my flat yesterday and identified the vase I had there as an original. This morning Christaby's told me that that was rubbish. The vase I brought in for valuation is a poor copy. Do you understand?

Joan Not really, dear. Would you like to have another go? What fun. It's like charades at Christmas.

Clarissa (impatient) For heaven's sake, wom – er, Mrs Creswell...

Joan Joan, dear...

Clarissa (more impatient still) The original vase left to me by my aunt was improperly sold to your husband and although a vast army of idiots wrongly identified it first as a copy, then they said it was an original...

Frank (turns – quietly) I don't think an original can be wrongly identified as an original can it? If you'll excuse me butting in.

Clarissa (bangs her vase on the carpet in agitation causing them to wince- shouts) LISTEN. (pause) Where was I?

Joan In your flat, dear, I think. Having your original identified as...

Clarissa (over-rides her) Then this morning at Christaby's that idiot of a valuer dared – DARED –to tell me that it was a copy after all. (bangs the vase more heavily on the carpet) THIS COPY. (she stands and smooths down her skirt) And now I should like the original - my original - back, please. As recompense for your disappointment you may have this piece of rubbish. (bangs the vase again)

Joan Well, fancy.

Frank This whole thing gets dafter by the minute. First we're told we have an original, then we don't. At the same time, according to the experts, you have a copy, then it's an original, and now, it seems, it's a copy again. Meanwhile...

Clarissa (goes up to the sideboard and turns the vase over to inspect the base) What do you mean, you had an original and now you don't?

Frank According to the experts at Christaby's this morning, our vase is also a copy. The marks on its base prove it to be so. (joins her) Do you see? No marks, an original; marks, a copy.

Clarissa (impatient) I'm well aware of that, Mr Creswell.

Joan Frank, dear.

Clarissa (ignores her) They told me that this morning. So both of us have copies. (she goes back onto the settee and sinks down on it) The whole thing is too ridiculous.

Joan (goes towards SR door) I'll make us some tea. Don't worry, it will be strong. I'll use six tea bags. That should do it.

Clarissa No, no. Please NO. So, come along now. Where's the original?

(there is a pause. Joan pokes her head through the door and they all look at each other)

Joan (laughs gaily) We don't know, dear. We give up. You'll have to tell us.

Clarissa (screams) I DON'T KNOW. THAT'S WHY I'M ASKING YOU.

Frank (sits at the table) Let's pace it through. I'm sold your vase, which is identified on that telly show as an original.

Clarissa (crossly) I know it's an original. My aunt Elizabeth would never have anything other than original works of art. If my evil uncle Wilfred hadn't...

Joan (enters with loaded tea tray) There we are, dear, really strong. You could stand the spoon up in it. Soon revive you.

Clarissa (sharply) NO THANK YOU. I don't drink tea. If that idiot Wilfred...

Joan But you said...

Clarissa (jumps up) Oh shut up about the damned tea. What I want...

Frank Now there's no need to talk like that Mrs, er, Wroughton-Twicks. My wife...

Clarissa (shouts) TROUGHTON-WICKS. AS IN THE SOUP.

Joan (placidly) I know we are, dear, but let my Frank sort this out. He's very logical. That's why he so often wins on the Pools. Fifty pounds here, a hundred there. It all helps to keep the wolf from the door, as my old granny used to say.

(there is a silence as they both look at Joan. She pours the tea)

Frank Yes, well, thank you Joan, dear. Let's move on, shall we? Let's accept for the moment that, as you and my wife left the TV show, she had the original and - was your carrier bag containing a copy?

Clarissa (shouts) HAVEN'T I JUST BEEN SAYING SO?

Joan I'm sure a sip of tea would help to calm you. In the war my mother...

(Frank sees Clarissa about to erupt again and butts in)

Frank Right. And let's suppose that, by accident, you did swop bags. Now we have the copy and you, the original. What happened next?

Clarissa (hesitates, mumbles) I threw it out of...

Joan Sorry, dear. Can you speak up a bit?

Clarissa (sighs) I threw it out of the window, someone caught it and, eventually, brought it back to me. An idiot...

Joan Oh dear. There seem to be so many idiots in your life. Do you think you may attract them for some reason?

Clarissa This so-called expert came to my flat and identified it as an original. Come to think of it, she showed me the base and there certainly were no marks. But this morning at Christaby's an id – er, another expert showed me that there were marks to prove it to be a copy and - good God. (she jumps up and goes to the window, staring out. They look at her. She slowly turns) The would-be burglar. We left uncle Wilfred alone with the vase. In his wheelchair. He can't have? Surely not? (she turns back to the window)

Frank Can't he?

Joan Who can't?

Frank Uncle Wilfred can't.

Joan Who's Uncle Wilfred, dear?

Frank I've no idea, dear.

Joan Probably another idiot.

Clarissa (still looking out of the window) That swine...

Joan (to Frank) I was right. Yet another idiot by the sounds of it.

Frank Mrs, er, Tanton-Pricks - er, sorry, I just can't remember your name...

Joan Staunton-Nicks, I think, dear.

Frank No, love, but it's close. (whispers) She doesn’t seem to be listening.

Joan Troughton something?

Frank No. You're muddling it with that foul soup. (he goes back to the desk and continues searching for his Pools coupon copy)

Clarissa (turning) I'll kill him. So help me. I'll kill him. He must have had a compartment in that damned wheelchair. (she puts her vase alongside the other on the sideboard)

Joan Some do, dear. When the person has a bit of a problem. You know, intercontinent. Poor dears.

Clarissa I will, I'll kill him.

Joan Which of your idiots do you have in mind to kill, dear?

Clarissa (crossly) The man who's stolen my vase, of course. The original.

Joan Well, make sure he's not holding it when you kill him. It could break into a thousand pieces.

Clarissa (to door SL) I don't care. The insurance I have probably makes it more valuable broken than whole. Come along, don't dither. There's no time to lose. (exits)

Joan I'll get my coat. It really is very good of you Mrs, er, dear, to go to all this trouble to get the original vase back for us.

Clarissa (comes bursting back in) YOU? YOU? I have absolutely no intention of doing any such thing. We three are going to the police where you will give a statement detailing the purchase from my uncle, er, that is, the thief, of my vase and I will give a description of the foul man...

Joan (innocently) Is he another idiot, dear?

And yet there's still another twist to come before the final curtain...