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How could you do if your most reckless friend from your youth got back in touch? What if you were dying of cancer and had nothing to lose? What if you felt guilty for landing your friend in the clink a decade back? Suppose you were the one she got sent to prison and you were only being released to succumb to illness in her care? If you used to be a nearly unbeatable pair of scam artists who retained a stash of disguises from your prime and a deep desire for one last thrill?

These questions and beyond form the core of Frauds, an original series featuring Suranne Jones and Jodie Whittaker, flings at us on a exhilarating, intense six-part ride that follows two conwomen determined to executing a final scheme. Echoing a recent project, Jones developed this series with her collaborator, and it has all the same strengths. Just as a suspense-driven structure served as a backdrop to emotional conflicts gradually unveiled, here the grand heist the protagonist Roberta (Bert) has carefully planned in prison after learning her prognosis is the vehicle for an exploration of friendship, betrayal and love in all its forms.

Bert is placed under the supervision of Sam (Whittaker), who resides close by in the Andalucían hills. Guilt stopped her from seeing Bert during her sentence, but she remained nearby and worked no cons without her – “Bit crass with you in prison for a job I messed up.” And for her new, if brief, freedom, she has bought her plenty of new underwear, because there are many ways for women companions to offer contrition and a classic example is the acquisition of “a big lady-bra” after a decade of underwire-free prison-issue rubbish.

Sam wants to carry on leading her quiet life and care for Bert until her passing. Bert possesses different plans. And if your most impulsive companion has other ideas – well, you often find yourself going along. Their old dynamic gradually reasserts itself and her strategies are already in motion by the time she lays out the full blueprint for the robbery. The series plays around with the timeline – producing engagement rather than confusion – to give us the set-pieces first and then the explanations. So we observe the duo slipping jewellery and watches off wealthy guests’ wrists at a funeral – and bagging a golden crown of thorns because why wouldn’t you if you could? – before removing their hairpieces and turning their mourning clothes inside out to become colourful suits as they walk confidently down the chapel stairs, awash with adrenaline and loot.

They need the assets to fund the plan. This entails recruiting a forger (with, unbeknown to them, a gambling problem that is due to attract unwanted attention) in the guise of illusionist’s aide Jackie (Elizabeth Berrington), who possesses the necessary skills to assist in swapping the target painting (a renowned Dali painting at a prominent gallery). Additionally, they recruit feminist art collector Celine (Kate Fleetwood), who focuses on works by artists depicting female subjects. She is as ruthless as all the criminals the forger and their funeral robbery are drawing towards them, including – most perilously of all – their former leader Miss Take (Talisa Garcia), a contemporary crime lord who employed them in frauds for her from their teens. She did not take well to their declaration of independence as self-reliant tricksters so there’s ground to make up there.

Plot twists are layered between deepening revelations about Bert and Sam’s history, so you experience the full enjoyment of a sophisticated heist tale – carried out with immense energy and admirable willingness to overlook obvious implausibilities – alongside a captivatingly detailed portrait of a friendship that is potentially as harmful as her illness but equally difficult to eradicate. Jones gives perhaps her finest and multifaceted portrayal yet, as the wounded, bitter Bert with her lifetime pursuit of excitement to divert attention from her internal anguish that is unrelated to metastasising cells. Whittaker stands with her, doing brilliant work in a slightly less interesting part, and together with the writers they create a fantastically stylish, emotionally rich and profoundly intelligent piece of entertainment that is feminist to its bones devoid of lecturing and in every way a triumph. More again, soon, please.