All language subtitles for Lovejoy s05e08 Poetic License.eng

(Birds twittering)

What a place, eh?

Lovely. Can't ignore your brushes
on a day like today.

Homage... a Norwich School.

With a few little touches that will identify
to the half-knowledgeable punter

as a John Thirtle, who flourished
round about 1810 to 1850.

He was Cotman's brother-in-law.

Just a bit of gossip I thought I'd throw in.

Yeah. Nice.

Oh... Miss Cavendish.

- Do you know where he is?
- Come in, come in.

No, thanks. Lovejoy.
Do you know where he is?

Excuse me. Eggs in mid-scramble.

Tell me this isn't happening.

I'm going to wake up in a minute, aren't I?

- Do you know where he is?
- Is it important?

Have you any idea how long it's taken me
to find this caravan?

"Oh, it's by the field by the church."

Do you know how many fields there are
"by the church"?

Well, it's not my fault, Charlotte.

I was parked by the pub,
I went to sleep and I woke up here.

Little problem with the rent.

Couldn't you bleep him
on one of your bleepers?

Oh, of course, he hasn't got a bleep.

Susan Rodriguez. Exeter Pottery 1933.

I thought it was Rodriguez.

Well... I didn't realize.

Yes. Little hobby of mine.

Lovejoy - would you like me
to find him for you?

Yes.

Tinker's looking for him. Fat chance.
Just wanted to be helpful, I think.

Get hold of Arnold Willoughby
as a long-stop, will you?

OK.

- You don't mean it, of course.
- I damn well do.

Do you want me to postpone
the Delwood Trust?

Not yet.

- (Balls clacking)
- (Man) Oh, good show! Good show.

(Clapping)

- Oh!
- Very good. Very good. Yes.

Oh, good show, good show!

And if this level of funding
is continued at Delwood,

our program here cannot be sustained.

Don't these people realize what's involved?

They're playing with people's lives.

Poor old Chester. Look at him.

How the hell am I to tell him
he can't stay here anymore?

And Maria.

We were the end of the line for Maria.

I know it's an impossible question
but what's the actual shortfall?

To turn the corner, about...
half a million, according to Thomas.

No reason to doubt the man,
even if he is an accountant.

- (Knock on door)
- Ah, that'll be Virginia.

I told Nurse Kellerman to bring her along.
Come in.

Good morning, Miss Moncrieff,
Nurse Kellerman.

Morning, Director.

L-l-I've got a wonderful idea.

(Whistling)

(Bicycle bell)

- Hello, Tink.
- Lovejoy.

You're supposed to be at Delwood.

She said this morning, didn't she?

She's very cross, Lovejoy.

This Delwood place
obviously means a lot to her.

- It's still morning, isn't it?
- She's considerably miffed.

The woman who runs it is a friend of hers.

Oh, what have you been doing?

- A Thirtle.
- Oh. A Thirtle.

John Thirtle, Norwich School.
Flourished...

- Yes, I have heard.
...1810 to 1850.

- Needs ageing.
- Mm. Unlike some of us.

- What year would you like?
- Round about 1815?

- Think we might manage that.
- Good.

Mustn't keep the lady waiting,
must we, Tink?

Where the hell have you been?

You said this morning. It's still morning.

Anyway, you're too late.
The job's been offered to someone else.

- I'm meeting them there. Now.
- Who?

Willoughby's.

- Willoughby?
- Willoughby?

Arnie Willoughby
doesn't know a neo-classical painting

from a hole in his vest.

He's doing the job.

You can't use Willoughby.
He's been taken ill.

Read "bottled out".

- Damn. Sure?
- Yes, they've just been on.

- You can't use Willoughby.
- No, you can't.

You can't use him. I don't mind
if you don't use me, but you can't use him.

You almost sound as if you cared.

If this person is a friend of yours,
you can't use him.

All right, Kate. Cancel Willoughby.

That might be tricky.
Permission to infuriate?

Granted.

So, erm... what are you gonna do?

I suppose I shall just have to use
what's available.

Tink, take care of the truck, will you?

Talk about scraping the barrel.

- You never told me Tink was a collector.
- You never asked me.

Some of that Art Deco modernist material
he has is really quite impressive.

Tinker must have the most expensive
immobile home east of Coggeshall.

He should just keep it a bit scruffier, huh?

- You know we're planning this '30s auction?
- Yeah.

Well, I've asked Tinker
to go and scour London for us.

- I've also asked Adrian Stoneleigh-Stibbs.
- Oh, Stibbles. What did he say?

He said he'd drop by next time he was
passing, which might be this afternoon.

He knows his stuff, Stibbles. So does Tink.

Did you know Tinker was intending
to take Beth to London with him?

How's she working out, by the way?

Small... but perfect.

(♪ Pop music playing loudly)

Beth?

Beth!

- (Music off)
- Visigoths! Beth!

Do you mind? I'm trying
to get an education 'ere.

Don't do that to me. What are you doing?
Whatever you're doing, don't do it.

- What are you doing?
- I done the legs.

- All of 'em. The lot.
- Oh, good. Why?

Lovejoy told me.

He said, "Do the legs.
Confront the underside.

"More to be learnt from the underneath
of the table than the top." So...

- I see.
- Yeah, but he didn't tell me what.

- So I've learned the feet.
- Feet?

Yeah. From the book.

Pad, bun, ball-and-claw, bracket.

And legs - gun barrel, barley sugar...
You know.

Yes, I have heard.

- If you want me, I'll be in my caravan.
- Right.

- What's that picture?
- Oh, er...

It's a watercolor. After the manner of...

I wouldn't put it any more strongly
than that.

After the manner of the Norwich School.

There are paintings.
Portraits, landscapes and so on.

One or two... sculptures, some furniture.

Is this for a sale or for insurance, Mary?

It's not for me to decide.
It's the charity commissioners

who will have to decide
whether or not we can sell anything.

I just have to know what it's worth
before I can present my case.

- Do you want to get rid of them?
- No.

But, er... we need about half a million

or I might as well not have bothered
with the last five years.

Well, that's not quite true but...
sometimes it feels like it.

Oh, I nearly forgot Virginia's desk.

(Chuckling) The saga of Virginia.

Under the new rules, Virginia will be turfed
out of here even if we do get our funding.

I think, as a matter of fact,
it will destroy her.

She's been here for nearly 30 years.

Hello, Virginia.

These are some experts who could give us
an opinion on your desk.

As you can see, Miss Moncrieff
is the shining star of our craft unit.

Under her supervision
we re-bind early edition 20th-century titles.

It provides the unit with sufficient funds
to be self-financing.

Lovely.

Tell me, how much
are Georgian bureaux worth?

How long is a piece of string?

Virginia's had the idea that she could
pay for herself to stay here

if she sold her bureau.

- Her bureau?
- I know.

I've been into the business of annuities.

It would take at least 80,000.

- Afraid not.
- A green lacquered bureau bookcase

sold for over a quarter of a million
a couple of years ago.

This is just a mahogany bureau that would
have had a cupboard or something on top.

- It doesn't have the bookcase on top?
- No.

No. So we're just talking about
an ordinary piece of mahogany furniture.

Yeah.

Well, it would be worth more
with the bookcase on top,

but even so, we're talking about, what,
six or seven grand, top whack.

(Sighs) Oh, dear.

Poor Virginia.

(Sighs)

Well, I'll, er... I'll leave you to it, then.

- Oh, my God.
- Oh, my God.

(Footsteps)

How much did they say it was worth?

Well, it-it would be more, I gather,
if it had its top half.

Well, we all know where that is.

- Where, Virginia?
- He knows. Don't worry.

So, what did he say?

If he had the top, at most about £6,000.

As it is...

How... can he?

He knows.

How dare he? How can he be so blind?
How dare he?

So he didn't see it, then.

See what, Virginia?

What it's worth.

How much do you think it's worth?

- My bureau?
- Yes.

Approximately... with the right
representation, you understand,

at least...

£200,000.

- How's it going?
- Don't do that.

You're cooking up a fake.
How's it going?

You are. I've been watching you.
It's really interesting.

This process is called
"enhanced patination".

Yeah. Technically known as faking.

- So, this is where you live.
- That's right. What brings you here?

Oh, I ran out of polish.

- Amazing. Do you collect all this stuff?
- Yes.

- Why?
- I beg your pardon.

- Well, what do you want it for?
- I like it.

Yeah, but... Oh, I don't know.
Who needs it? Do you know what I mean?

"Needs it?" Well, I don't need trousers.
Who said anything about needing?

Oh, yeah, but it would get me down.
Don't you worry about it?

- Worry about it?
- Yeah, well, getting it nicked, for starters.

No, not much.

- You must have things that you worry about.
- Hmph! Not so as you'd notice.

Anyway, I told you, I'm not into objects.

In a family they never let you
own anything, anyway.

- How many of you are there?
- Well, there's Mum, Dad, two brothers.

They never really let you own anything,
brothers. You got any brothers?

- Only my brother monks.
- Monks?

Yeah. In the monastery.

(Laughs) I bet they never let you stuff
yourself full of Art Deco there, then, did they?

There's nothing here, Charlotte.

I was afraid of that.

There's a couple of grand here,
a couple of grand there,

but the kind of money she's looking for
you need one major item.

And it ain't here.

- Maybe not.
- Maybe not? Definitely not.

May as well flog these.

Good Edwardian gear, you know. See?

- (Jangling)
- Weighted.

- Might get a few bob for the lead.
- All right, all right.

I think I shall put this morning
down to experience.

- Yes, but...
- Save your friend a fee.

I've got to do it, Lovejoy. It's got to be done.

Why?

Mary is a very old friend of mine.
She's a remarkable person.

She's one of the few people I know who've
really done something with their lives.

- You know me.
- Please. Lovejoy.

Lovejoy! Don't make me
use Arnie Willoughby.

Using that name is below the belt.
That is out of order.

(Lovejoy muttering indistinctly)

Look at this here, this... boring Grand Tour
painting of classical ruins, circa 1810.

Knocked out by the acre...
Oh, sorry, we're in Italy.

...by the hectare for the artistic snobbery
of upper-class British twits

sent there because it was the thing to do.
What are we bid for this?

- Not a lot.
- Exactly.

But there's bound to be somebody
with more money than sense

who'll want to buy it for the same reasons.

- Yeah. They're the ones doing it.
- Er... there.

OK. Right.

Painting number one.

What is this? Oh, yeah.
Napoleonic, neo-classical crapola,

measuring... call it 45 by...

call it about 65 inches.

- Same height as me.
- Shame it's not as pretty as you.

Lovejoy!

You might have been killed!

Hell of a way of not being.

This wasn't an accident.
This was undone deliberately.

Why? Hm?

Why would anybody want to do that?

Well, who knows?

I mean, this place is full of
people who aren't in control.

I think we've upset someone.

I wonder what we're doing.

Hm? What do you mean,
"what we're doing"?

Well, what are we doing?
We're valuing posh junk.

- Yeah.
- Hm?

Well, how did this stuff get here?

I mean, did it come with the house?

And whose house was this?

He was called Sir Lionel Whyte,
the last owner. He died in the 1930s.

So, how did the house
come into the hands of the Trust?

There was supposed to be a fortune.
It was never found.

Both sides of his family
thought the other was cheating them.

What money was left went in lawyers' fees.

In the end, the house had to be sold,
lock, stock and barrel.

That's how it became an institution.

- The paintings came with the house?
- Paintings came with the house.

How do you classify
the people in your care?

We don't have anyone here with a history
of violence, if that's what you mean.

So, what could the motive possibly be?

Well, somebody obviously
doesn't want us here, do they?

Any members of the Whyte family
resident here?

You know, someone who might think

that all the stuff in the house
belongs to them personally.

Mm. See what you mean.

It's certainly a possibility. No one here
with the name Whyte, I'm afraid,

but, er... I'll look into it, of course.

(Buzzing)

Ah, Derek, we're on the hunt for names.

A name, rather. Whyte, spelled
W-H-Y-T-E, amongst our residents.

- But there aren't any W...
- I know. I mean parental names, maternal.

We've got quite a lot of birth certificates
in our keeping, haven't we?

Yes.

Couple of other names you might try.
Mayhew and perhaps Lawson.

They're family names of the Whyte family,
I seem to recall.

Whyte, Mayhew, Lawson.
Leave it with me.

- Hi, Beth.
- Hi.

Oh, this is Mr. Stoneleigh-Stibbs.

- Hi.
- Buongiorno.

I'm waiting for Charlotte.

- What can we do for you, Beth?
- I've come to borrow your laser printer.

- It's for Tink.
- Not Tinker Dill?

Yeah, that's right.

Does he still live in a caravan?
Do tell me he does.

Yeah, he does.

(Horn toots)

Stibbles! Bonjour et quel honneur.

Tinker, my dear. Comment ça va?

- Bonjour, Beth.
- Yeah.

I had Kate run these off
on her posh printer for you.

"This vehicle is alarmed." That's brilliant.
Thank you very much.

Stibbs, please.

You do realize
what you've accumulated here, don't you?

Yeah. Too much.

It's a nice little collection, I suppose.

- Do you want me to tell you?
- What?

I've got a cash register for a brain.

It's been ringing away ever since I entered
your hallowed portals, dear boy.

- Don't tell me.
- Quite right.

- Why not?
- Tell me.

Thirty. At least.

I wish you hadn't told me.

This is Virginia's room.

- Are all the rooms like this?
- Only a few.

Virginia's our longest-standing resident.
She came here when she was 19.

Nearly 30 years ago.

Well, what do you think?

It's nice.

Yes, nothing extraordinary about it.
I mean, it's mahogany.

1740 to 1750.
Not sure about this leather insert.

I don't think it would ever have had one.
Nicely done, though.

That's Virginia, of course. And the books.

Right.

Let's have a... proper look at it, shall we?

(Both) Oi!

Virginia had a grand passion
when she was little more than a child.

With a much older man.
It all went wrong in the most awful way.

It may have triggered her collapse.
Who knows?

Or something else might have done but...

she never recovered properly.

She comes from quite a grand family.
They paid for her to come here.

All long dead.

Now the money's run out.

What do you think?

Well, it's not got any better.

- I don't understand it.
- It's nothing special, Mary, I promise you.

I don't doubt you. I watched you
go over it with a fine-tooth comb

and you clearly know what you're
talking about. No, it's Virginia herself.

Why has she convinced herself
of it having such a huge value?

And those books? Nothing there?

No. Respectable Victorian editions,
that's all.

Perhaps the valuable bit is the top half.

Perhaps.

Curious thing she said, you know. She said
you'd know where the top half would be.

Excuse me? I would know?

I know. Doesn't make sense, does it?

Why would anybody
want to kill you, Lovejoy?

- I can think of a few people who might.
- Oh, thank you, Stibbles.

Can Beth and I call on you
tomorrow afternoon, Stibbles?

People do. Feel free.

I've been commissioned by
Miss Cavendish here.

I have to warn you both -
London's a desert at the moment.

Specialists are going under
like submariners.

- Well, I can't cancel my auction.
- You may have to.

- It would look very bad.
- The trade would understand.

Nobody else would.
The trade would also gloat.

It would.

I can point Tinker
at a few individuals.

But people don't like to see
their beloved "objets" go for nothing.

They wouldn't have to.

I'm sure of it.

You're probably right
but they'll need convincing.

There you are, Tinker.
Try those. Then come and see me.

- Still in Camden?
- Where else?

(Groans)

Ahh.

(Rattling)

Whoa!

- Oh, no. Hello, Kipper.
- Hello.

- Kipper?
- Yeah.

Likes to kip in a different place every night,
don't you, Kipper?

I do.

Oi, Kipper. Shh!

Sorry. Sorry.

He used to be in a home.
Now he's in the care of the community.

- Aren't you, Kipper?
- I think so.

Want to press charges, sir?

Don't be daft.

Come on, Kipper, do you want to come back
to the station with us again tonight?

I would! Oh... sorry. Sorry.

- Sorry.
- Come on.

Take it easy, Kipper.

Ah.

Mr. Schulz.

You've got an alarm.

I mean, who would hear it?

- What's the contents' value?
- £30,000.

Is there any difficulty?

Insurance is insurance, isn't it?

Let's put it this way, Mr. Dill.

If I was to ask you to insure...
I mean, a very large diamond,

whose sole protection was
a self-opening sardine tin with windows,

what would you say to me?

You did a beautiful job on this, Tink.

- Beautifully aged, beautiful frame.
- Thank you.

- Want to see if you can flog it in London?
- I'll do my best.

- Don't say it's a Thirtle, though.
- As if I would.

About 250, yeah?

- Right, we'll go 60-40.
- Oh, come on, Lovejoy. You painted it.

That's what I meant. 60 for me, 40 for you.

And when you see Miss Cavendish...
tell her she's late.

I'll see her at Delwood.

60-40.

(Lovejoy) Morning.

So, er... what do you think of Mary's idea?

The ex-acrobat? Chester?

Yeah.

Well, he only just missed you,
whoever he was.

(♪ Plucking)

(Bleeping)

Hope this works.

Six.

(Bleeping)

This might be it.

My God!

Charlotte, don't!

Why aren't you dead?

Well, I hope Lovejoy's
having a better time than we are.

I'll phone Charlotte, as I promised, and, er...
we'll see what old Stibbs has got to offer.

- Yeah. Funny old trade, this, innit?
- How do you mean?

(Horn blares)

You've got to love all this stuff.
Really know about it, I mean.

But then you've just got to flog it on
like old spuds, don't ya?

Well, that's one way of putting it.

Still, that's good too.

Owning things. Possessions
just get in the way, don't they?

- Of what?
- Of life.

Oh, that old thing.

What was her reaction when
Lovejoy said it wasn't worth anything?

Awful. She's absolutely
convinced of its value.

Even if she's wrong, I'd like to know
where she got the idea from.

- And has she always had this bureau?
- As far as I know, yes.

Mary, who was this older lover of hers?

Oh, no, I'm sworn to secrecy on that.

- Mary.
- He left her.

- Don't blame him.
- Mary.

- No, I've promised the family.
- Look, Mary, you've got to tell us.

It could be important.
She did try and kill Lovejoy.

- It was Keenan Howells.
- The poet?

Yes. He used to hang around with
Dylan Thomas in Camden in the '50s.

- In Camden.
- Yes.

All roads lead to Camden.

- (Charlotte) Have you seen Stibbles yet?
- No, I haven't talked to him yet.

He's... he's with a client.

- Hang on a minute. Lovejoy wants a word.
- Ta.

Tink, I want you to do a favor for me.

You know Stibbles is a bit of an expert
on post-war Camden bohemia?

Well, I want you to find out
all that he knows

about a poet who lived there, called...

Keenan Howells. Yes.

- He was part of the scene.
- The late '50s.

Early '60s, when it was all running down.

Tell you what,
let's go and try for some lunch

at what used to be his favorite pub,
shall we?

(Tinker) Yes, here's where
they all used to drink.

Howells in his corner.

Do you know
who Keenan Howells was, Beth?

- Yeah. We did him in English.
- Did you?

Mm. Welsh, like Dylan Thomas,
weren't he?

That's right.
I haven't been in here for years.

- Is this still a local shrine?
- Come again?

Keenan Howells used to drink here,
didn't he?

Oh, him. Oh, yeah. Used to be quite a lot
of interest about him, there used.

Not much now.
The odd Yank comes in and asks.

We used to have something
up on the wall about him.

- I don't remember that.
- Yeah. Used to hang just there, it used.

We took it down years ago.
It had gone all yellow. Then we redecorated.

Here we are. Told you. She doesn't
chuck nothing away, my missus.

She'll have it on her tombstone,
she will, carved -

"She collected a lot of things."
Know what I mean?

I'll give this a wipe.

- Lovejoy?!
- He's got a blue plaque round the corner.

- Famous, he was.
- This begins to make sense.

The old woman who was his landlady
still lives there.

(Publican) People visit. You know.
People who are interested.

She doesn't mind. Bit of fame.
Rubs off, doesn't it?

Mrs. Mulligan, she's called.

Yes?

We apologize for trespassing
on your precious time, Mrs. Mulligan,

but we are interested in
the life and times of Keenan Howells.

- He of the plaque.
- You better come down, then.

I can't remember. How do you expect me
to remember? It was 30 years ago.

There was a girl.
Virginia, I think her name was.

Hooked up with that swine of a poet
people come here asking about.

They don't ask about her.

She was a lovely creature.

That's all.

It's all right, Mrs. Mulligan. It doesn't matter.

Left all her stuff behind. Just went out
one day and never came back.

Never saw her again.
Never came back for it.

- I didn't know how to find her.
- That must have been a nuisance.

- Did you get rid of it?
- Wasn't a nuisance.

I just locked the doors on it.

Often I wonder what happened to that girl.
I liked her.

Did you ever rent the room again,
Mrs. Mulligan?

Course I did. What do you think
I'm made of? Money, is it?

- Do you think I'm made of money?
- No, no, no, no.

It's only you said
you'd just locked the doors on it.

Well, the cupboard doors. I told you.

- Bookcase.
- You mean her stuff is still here?

What's that to you?

We know where Virginia is, Mrs. Mulligan.

Fine-looking girl, she was.
High class, too. You could tell.

(Sighs) He wrote her poetry.
She showed me.

Hm! She saw the poetry,
she didn't see the man proper who wrote it.

Never seen love like it.

Ah, well. He cleared off, broke her heart.

- Virginia Moncrieff.
- Ah! That was the name.

It comes back to me now. Moncrieff.

Would you like us to take her stuff
back to her, Mrs. Mulligan?

- Well, you sure you know where she is?
- Oh, yes.

- Is she all right?
- She needs all the help she can get.

If I could see her again, I...

I'd like to see her again, you know.

(Lovejoy) Oh...

Ah...

Oh...

- Suffering, are we?
- Oh, you didn't fall off a ladder, did you?

What do you think of this?

Where did you get that?

I bought it from Tinker.

- What do you think?
- It's OK.

I think it's lovely.

Do you think it's... right?

No.

- How much did you pay for it?
- 250.

You don't think it's right either?

I didn't buy it to sell on.

Why, then?

For me.

I bought it for me.

Busy girl deserves the occasional treat.

- There's something about it.
- Yeah?

Mm.

It's... got something.

Why?

I like it.

Good.

I think it's the sort of thing I could live with.

- (Car approaching)
- Yeah?

(Car horn)

(Giggling)

Yep, this is the matching top half.

But, I mean, there's nothing special
about it, is there, hey?

And I don't think I look anything like him.
Do you, Tink?

No, not at all.

Exactly. I don't know what
this Moncrieff's on about, you know.

I mean, this is what it is.
It's worth what it's worth.

- (Sighs) It's a pity. I'd rather hoped...
- Oh, I know, Tink. Yeah.

It'll just be nice to have it reunited
with its matching bottom half.

Here's an example of
Miss Moncrieff's book-binding.

Very clever girl.

Come on. Let's get it
back to its rightful owner.

And will you two
stop looking at that picture?

(Snorts)

Oh, no.

That's not him.

Well, he'd be much older by now, anyway,
you silly girl.

And he'd have white...

white hair.

Virginia, we've, erm...

We've found the top half of your bureau.

- Little Mrs. Mulli's.
- Mm.

Virginia...

I don't want to be blamed.

- You won't punish me, will you?
- Virginia, Virginia...

I had a right to silence him.

I mean, my poems should belong to me.

- You won't punish me, will you?
- No, we won't.

- Well, I might be.
- You won't.

"To Virginia. 3rd May 1959." You...

You hid this poem under the binding.

Well, he went away.

I had to silence him.

Everything he said to me was silenced.

Virginia... are there more?

In the box.

"The pale flames in your face

"Whitened bones in dry landscapes

"Deserted by my pride

"Offered to your blue gazing"

- 20 undiscovered poems!
- Yeah. It's a major find.

Think of the possibilities, Cavendish.

There'll be a preview selection
in one of the posh Sundays.

Hardback sales in the UK and America.
Then what else have you got?

You've got paperback rights.
Probably a movie of the week.

That's not even taking into account
the sale of the manuscripts themselves.

- Do you think she's going to be all right?
- Hm? Yeah.

Yeah, I think she's going to be all right.

Lovejoy! Lovejoy! Lov...

- Yeah? Hold on a second, will you?
- Oh!

- Yes, Beth, what is it?
- It's Tinker.

Someone's emptied out his caravan,
emptied out all his bits!

Really?

Tink?

- Beth says you've been done over.
- Well, I never.

- Was any of that stuff of yours insured?
- No, none of it.

Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear, oh dear.

Hello?

For your auction.

- Oh, you can't, Tinker.
- But I want to.

- Besides, it was Beth's idea.
- Mine?

Yes, you gave me a half-hour lecture,
Possessions Are A Burden.

- How right you were.
- Oh. Good old me.

A collection like Tinker's
should buck the trend.

I think people are ready to buy.

You'll both do very well out of this.

Charlotte.

That's Mrs. Mulligan with Virginia.

Mary's convinced
she can do a lot to help her.

Well, you know we're going to be
disappointing, Mary.

We think...

15... maybe 20 thousand.

- Something like that.
- Yeah, something like that.

Of course, Lovejoy says you could always
sell the lead-weighting in the curtains.

(Laughs) Actually, it's farthings, if you feel.

More flexible, I suppose.

There used to be about a thousand farthings
to the pound, of course.

(Chinking)

It's too heavy for copper.

Definitely coins.

- Do, er... do you mind?
- No, no. Please.

I remember this story that
an old codger called Patrick told me once.

About this farm in Norfolk.
Patchings Farm, it was called.

And this family fortune that had skipped
a couple of generations

because they'd hidden the fortune in...

Sovereigns.

Gold sovereigns.

- Seven windows.
- Fourteen curtains.

And at 50 quid a sovereign that's, er...

You work it out.

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