by Ian Shimwell
TRENCH: Ouch, it’s hot!
RHONDA: The biscuits are cold, if that’s any help.
TRENCH: Are they fresh? I mean, not stale?
RHONDA: Of course they’re fresh.
TRENCH: Oh no, I don’t think that I can take the excitement.
DEBSY: Now start behaving Trench, or I’ll take them off you.
TRENCH: Yes, Mum!
RHONDA: Now, you mentioned something about a pocket watch?
TRENCH: Oh yes. Now, does this seem familiar?
(TRENCH passes RHONDA the pocket watch.)
RHONDA: Where did you get this from?
DEBSY: It’s a long story – but was it your pocket watch, Rhonda?
RHONDA: Yes, yes it is – or was. I must have lost it years ago.
TRENCH: So, Rhonda – how did you lose it? We would be very interested.
RHONDA: I don’t see what harm it could do. I was taking a box of rubbish, well bric-a-brac, to give to a charity shop at the same time I was taking that very watch in for repair.
TRENCH: What was wrong with it – did it keep stopping at eleven o’clock?
RHONDA: Now, it did keep stopping – but don’t ask me to remember the time it stopped at. But how did you know?
TRENCH: You might be interested to know, the pocket watch still inexplicably stops.
RHONDA: It’s going now, though – and at the right time.
TRENCH: Yes, around twenty minutes after stopping, it strangely resets itself back to the correct time.
DEBSY: How… peculiar.
RHONDA: Yes, but as I was saying, for ease of carrying, I placed this very pocket watch in the charity box – but, silly me, forgot all about it when I gave the box full of stuff to the shop.
DEBSY: Easy done, I suppose.
TRENCH: I’m saying nothing.
RHONDA: When I realised, I returned to the shop but the box and the watch had gone.
DEBSY: Did the staff have any idea who’d taken it?
RHONDA: No, but to be fair, they were in the middle of a re-fit and, well it was chaos really.
TRENCH: And that was the last time you saw it?
RHONDA: Until now, of course. It’s so good to have it back after so long – my father would have been pleased.
TRENCH: Err… I’m afraid we can’t let you have your timepiece back just back. At least, not until we’ve completed our enquiries.
RHONDA: I understand – here.
(RHONDA stretches to return the watch to TRENCH.)
DEBSY: So, Rhonda – am I right in assuming the pocket watch was your father’s?
RHONDA: Yes.
TRENCH: And how did your father come by the watch?
RHONDA: You know, I don’t honestly know. He never actually said.
DEBSY: Can’t you… err ask him?
RHONDA: Sadly, no – father and mother died in a motor car accident many years ago.
DEBSY: Oh… dear.
TRENCH: Richard.
RHONDA: Richard?
TRENCH: In response to your original question, a gentleman called Richard currently owns this remarkable timepiece.
RHONDA: Richard, really?
DEBSY: You don’t know him, do you?
RHONDA: I think that would be very unlikely. It’s funny though…
TRENCH: What is?
RHONDA: Richard was also the name of my father…
(Mysterious music changes the scene.)
(TRENCH and DEBSY are walking again, but this time on a busier street.)
DEBSY: We do seem to be doing a lot of walking. Ever heard of a car, Trench?
TRENCH: It can’t be far away, and the Stokeham Herald’s close too.
DEBSY: What’s this got to do with the price of fish? Where are we going, anyway?
TRENCH: You’re going back to the Herald, while I go and have another chat with Richard.
DEBSY: Oh no, I’ll see Richard – while you go back to work.
TRENCH: Tell you what then, we’ll both visit dear Richy.
DEBSY: I’m glad that’s sorted. Trench, did you think Rhonda was good-looking?
TRENCH: I suppose so, but there was something… oh, I don’t know… maybe cold about her. Couldn’t put my finger on it, though.
DEBSY: Finger… yes, of course. She had taste though.
TRENCH: What?
DEBSY: Didn’t you see this weeks’ copy of the Stokeham Herald on her table?
TRENCH: Nope – missed that.
(They walk some more.)
DEBSY: And Rhonda’s daddy was called Richard too. Could that be important?
TRENCH: Not likely, Debs – just an insignificant coincidence.
DEBSY: And this pocket watch mystery is full of them.
(Music accompanied by loud ticking changes the scene.)
DEBSY: It’s lovely to see you again, Richy.
RICHARD: It’s really lovely to see you too, Debsy.
TRENCH: Oh please, it is lovely to see both of you. Now, can we talk watches?
DEBSY: As you can tell Richy, Trench definitely isn’t the romantic type.
RICHARD: No.
DEBSY: Oh, you read the Herald too – and what’s this ‘Wholesale Jewellers’ magazine?
TRENCH: Are you in the business?
RICHARD: Not really – but I’m always on the lookout for a good investment.
TRENCH: Right Richard, can you please tell us in more detail how you ‘found’ the pocket watch?
RICHARD: Certainly. I found it at the bottom of a box of bric-a-brac which was stored up in the attic.
TRENCH: Yes, but how did the box get up there?
RICHARD: Hmm, now let me think…
DEBSY: Don’t worry if you can’t remember – it’s all right.
TRENCH: No it isn’t ‘all right’ – it’s important.
RICHARD: Yes… at the time I was helping out in the local charity shop… and when they were overloaded with stuff, I used to store bulky items and odd boxes of donated all-sorts here.
DEBSY: And did you store any boxes in your attic?
RICHARD: Yes, yes I did. I must have forgotten all about that fellow!
DEBSY: And that was the box with the pocket watch.
TRENCH: How convenient.
RICHARD & DEBSY: (Together they say angrily:) What?
TRENCH: I mean, that all ties in with what we’ve recently discovered.
RICHARD: And what’s that?
TRENCH: That the previous owner – and probably current legal – owner of the pocket watch is Rhonda Abbot.
RICHARD: Oh.
DEBSY: Richard, do you know her?
RICHARD: I don’t think so. Although it’s always possible I bumped into her at the charity shop, all those years ago.
DEBSY: Well, that clears that up then. I’m free tonight, if anyone’s interested?
TRENCH: I’m not!
RICHARD: I am, dear Debsy – but alas I cannot make it tonight.
DEBSY: What is it this time – Masons or something?
RICHARD: Let me just check my diary…
(RICHARD picks his diary up and flicks through the pages.)
RICHARD: I can make it next Tuesday evening. Debsy, would you then do the honour of allowing me to escort you on an evening out?
DEBSY: (Says rather too hastily:) Yes. (Then normally:) It’s a long wait though…
RICHARD: I’ll be counting the very seconds, my sweet…
TRENCH: Right, we’re off! Come on, Debs.
DEBSY: Sorry – bye.
(TRENCH abruptly bungles DEBSY out of RICHARD’s house.)
DEBSY: What was all that about?
TRENCH: Oh, I couldn’t stand it any longer.
DEBSY: There are times when I can’t stand you – but I don’t storm off.
TRENCH: Oh, really?
DEBSY: Yes, really.
TRENCH: And finally when the numpty asks you out – talk about a long wait, it is only Friday, for heaven’s sake. What’s he doing till Tuesday?
DEBSY: I don’t know
, I’m not his keeper. (She takes a deep breath to calm down.) So, the pocket watch mystery is solved then?
TRENCH: I don’t think so.
DEBSY: But Richard knows where it came from.
TRENCH: Maybe, but not where it originates. Rhonda is unaware how her father came into possession of the timepiece and I intend to find out.
DEBSY: (Says sternly:) Trench, (But then more softly:) and I’ll help you.
TRENCH: Oh, all right then.
(Mysterious music changes the scene.)
DEBSY: (Who takes a heavy sigh.) Phew, that’s the last of this week’s features.
TRENCH: Yes, but still no leads in our pocket mystery.
(The office door is pushed further open.)
EDITOR LAW: That’s where you’re wrong, Trench. Lord Reaves himself has contacted the Herald regarding the pocket watch.
DEBSY: Who’s Lord Reaves?
EDITOR LAW: Really, Deborah. He was a local big-wig in stocks and shares. He’s retired now, of course.
TRENCH: Ever played golf with him, Editor Law?
EDITOR LAW: Once or twice, if I remember rightly. Lost both times…
DEBSY: But what’s his connection with the watch?
TRENCH: That, my dear, is what we are about to find out.
(Ticking sounds with background music changes scene.)
LORD REAVES: Do sit down. You youngsters are in for a treat – you are just in time for elevenses.
DEBSY: Thank-you Lord Reaves – not for the elevenses, but for calling us youngsters.
LORD REAVES: (Who laughs.) Very witty, my dear. (Then raises his voice.) Mavis, we are all suffering malnutrition in here. It is known as elevenses for a reason, you know – and not ‘five past elevenses’.
MAVIS: (Who shouts from the kitchen.) Me come soon, my lord. Me make tea and lovely scones.
TRENCH: Mavis?
LORD REAVES: Oh, she’s my nursemaid, cook and home-help. She’s even been a nanny to the family too, Trench.
TRENCH: An all-rounder then, Lord Reaves?
LORD REAVES: Quite.
DEBSY: Glorious painting, err… on the wall.
LORD REAVES: Family portrait dear – parents, myself and my brother. I always thought it was a trifle brooding though… Now, about this pocket watch – may I see it?
TRENCH: Here.
(TRENCH passes LORD REAVES the pocket watch.)
LORD REAVES: Fascinating…
DEBSY: Is it… was it yours, Lord Reaves?
LORD REAVES: Firstly, I want to know who you think the owner is.
TRENCH: It appears that Rhonda Abbot is the rightful, current owner.
LORD REAVES: Remarkable – so you’re informing me that this belongs to my niece, Rhonda?
DEBSY: Yes – but we didn’t know she was your niece. Is Rhonda separated or divorced?
LORD REAVES: Why yes Debsy, she divorced a while back – but what made you ask such a question?
DEBSY: I noticed a mark on her wedding finger – but no ring.
TRENCH: Very observant, Debsy – my old friend will be impressed. Well done.
DEBSY: Thank-you, Trench.
LORD REAVES: Ah, Mavis – you have done us proud.
(MAVIS places the refreshments on a spacious table.)
MAVIS: Me feel good.
TRENCH: But does Rhonda’s marital status have any bearing on the pocket watch situation?
LORD REAVES: Perhaps more than you think, Trench… Now, who’s for scones?
(Mysterious music merges into ever-louder ticking, changes the scene.)
TRENCH: That cake was awful.
OLD TOM: What was wrong with it?
TRENCH: It was far too fresh!
OLD TOM: Trench, is there something bothering you? I detect a twinge of aggression in your manner.
TRENCH: Debsy has agreed to go on a date with that Richard. They’re probably in the middle of their dinner as we speak.
OLD TOM: I see. I assume this is the second date?
TRENCH: No – first.
OLD TOM: Strange – Richard asks her out on a Friday for the following Tuesday – today. Advanced planning?
TRENCH: Or is he simply a busy fellow?
OLD TOM: Pocket watch please.
TRENCH: There’s the old timer, old timer.
(TRENCH passes the pocket watch to OLD TOM.)
OLD TOM: Hah – very droll. (He flicks the back open.) And according to the inscription on the concealed rear of the watch – this is an old timer. The manufacturer, ‘London Watchsmiths’ dates its origins to the early part of the last century, as the company folded in the nineteen twenties.
TRENCH: Interesting…
OLD TOM: At least it appears to be working correctly now. The watch face is proudly displaying the right time.
TRENCH: Yes, but oddly the pocket watch stopped again this afternoon at four o’clock before correcting itself after around twenty minutes.
OLD TOM: How odd. Has it done that on any other days?
TRENCH; Yes, it did it yesterday as well – and stopped at eleven. But it ran perfectly all through Sunday – I’m not sure about the other days though. Perhaps it’s a stopwatch!
OLD TOM: (Says irritably:) Yes. (Then normally:) And Lord Reaves did not venture anymore information on the timepiece.
TRENCH: Frustratingly no – he raised more questions than answers. But we can deduce that Rhonda’s late father was Lord Reaves’ brother.
OLD TOM: Obviously. There are just so many things that don’t quite add up in this case.
TRENCH: I know. A watch that stops; Richard’s odd dating behaviour – and the watch ending up in Richard’s attic.
OLD TOM: A more than valuable pocket watch; a strange message in the Stokeham Herald – and an even stranger remark about the significance of Rhonda’s ex-marital status. What does it all mean – and is there a connection?
TRENCH: Maybe we should start reading in-between the lines, Old Tom?
OLD TOM: Correction, Trench. Like the mantle clock before us, we need to look between the tick and the tock, to solve the mystery of this most perplexing pocket watch.
(A longer piece of mystery music indicates the end of Act Two.)
Act Three
TRENCH: Well, I suppose I’d better make a start on next weeks’ features.
(TRENCH begins typing away, but stops when the office door is flung open.)
DEBSY: (Says guiltily:) Good morning, Trench.
TRENCH: Good afternoon, Debsy – you’re late. What’s wrong – had a late night?
DEBSY: Not particularly – I just had a problem with the alarm clock.
TRENCH: Go on, let’s hear it then – this should be good.
DEBSY: All right. The clock had ticked itself off my bedside table thingy, but instead of falling onto the floor, it fell into a drawer I’d left open. When the alarm clock happily went off this morning, the clothes in the drawer muffled the sound and, hence, I didn’t hear the thing and slept on.
TRENCH: Can I write that down? It’s a brilliant excuse, I mean reason. It could only happen to you though, Debs.
DEBSY: Err… thanks – I think.
TRENCH: At least my pocket watch seems more reliable than your alarm clock. (He opens the pocket watch.) Oh no it isn’t – it’s stuck on eleven o’clock again.
DEBSY: But it’s a quarter past eleven.
TRENCH: Tell me about it. And how did your ‘date’ go with ravishing Richard?
DEBSY: So, so – average meal and like the cheap champagne, his conversation wasn’t exactly sparkling.
TRENCH: (Says trying his best to sound sincere:) I am sorry it didn’t seem to work out – what went wrong?
DEBSY: Oh, he seemed more interested that I included a message in the paper before today’s deadline – you know, concerning that silly pocket watch.
TRENCH: What message?
DEBSY: Now where did I put that slip of paper he made me swear to look after? Hah, here it is. ‘Not much time left, but come forward at the appo
inted hour.’ What does that mean?
TRENCH: I’m not really sure, but Rhonda Abbot telephoned the office with an equally bizarre message for print: ‘Learn from ignorance to uncover the secret of the pocket watch. Be late.’
DEBSY: Odd, really odd. Maybe the best thing to do is simply ask them what they mean.
TRENCH: Good thinking Debs – but who shall we visit first?
DEBSY: Richard. Err, I mean, he’s nearest – isn’t he?
TRENCH: I thought you were going to say him, for some reason…
DEBSY: And we’d better make sure those mysterious messages are included in tomorrow’s edition…
(Mysterious ticking sounds change the scene.)
(DEBSY rings the doorbell. They wait a few moments.)
DEBSY: No answer – Richard must be out.
TRENCH: Brilliant deduction, Debs.
DEBSY: Yes, I know – thank you so much.
TRENCH: Come on, I’ll take you for a coffee in town. Then we’ll try again.
DEBSY: Or visit ravishing Rhonda?
TRENCH: Something like that.
DEBSY: It’s a date then.
(A steady ticking moves things on.)
DEBSY: I love these outdoor style coffee shops – you know with tables and chairs outside.
TRENCH: Even when it’s cold?
DEBSY: I don’t believe it. Look, there’s Richard drinking a coffee.
TRENCH: And sat by the table next to him is none other than Rhonda.
DEBSY: It’s so strange – they seem to be looking at each other longingly, but not at the same time.
TRENCH: Funny, they’re both reading the Stokeham Herald. Come on, let’s have a word with them.
DEBSY: Bagsy me on Richard’s table – and don’t say you knew I was going to say that!
TRENCH: Wouldn’t dream of it.
(They walk over to the separate couple.)
DEBSY: Richard.
TRENCH: And Rhonda. Do you mind if we..?
(They sit down with the question hanging in the air.)
TRENCH: Rhonda, this is Richard and visa-versa.
(There is a moment of total silence.)
TRENCH: Fine, you don’t want to speak to each other. This is an amazing coincidence really.
DEBSY: I know, present and previous owners of the pocket watch sat in the same coffee shop almost next to each other – and both drinking café lattes!
RICHARD: It is as you said, simply a coincidence.
DEBSY: Is it really, Richard? Fancy going on another date sometime soon?