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Wednesday 7 August, 9.30pm

Back from the dead

by Simon Rolfe

Hello. Here I am again. Back from my holiday in hell, still wondering how I survived it. Imagine if you will, a garage barely big enough to house a family sedan. Throw in some mouldy mattresses and a plastic bucket for a toilet, and you’ve got some idea of where I’ve just spent what could have been the last days of my life.

I thought we were gone. Jean Acheson and me. And I was prepared for it, dear reader. Resigned to it, even. Thankfully, Detective Sergeant Darren Glass was there with us, and his survival instincts proved to be much more acute than ours.

And Darren, in the tumult, I forgot to thank you for saving us. So now, with every fibre of my being, I thank you.

As for Ms Acheson, her network is planning a telemovie based on our ordeal. I won’t be tuning in when it goes to air. The past forty-eight hours were the most horrific of my life. I wouldn’t want to relive them.