‘Go ahead,’ she urged. ‘How bad are they?’

‘Not good. Let’s take a break for a while.’

I released Libby’s hands. After a quick glance, she wiped them on her trousers. My own palms felt like they were on fire, but at least after the first cut I hadn’t broken any more skin. The last thing either of us needed was to get an infection.

‘I have an idea.’ I took off my shirt and began to pull at the sleeves.

‘What on earth are you doing?’

‘Protecting your hands,’ I replied.

Except that was easier said than done. The bastard sleeves must’ve been sewn on with steel wire rather than cotton. After a lot of sweating and straining on my part, and suppressed giggles from Libby, the left sleeve I was tugging at finally began to give. It took far too long to rip it from the rest of the shirt and then tear it in two. By the time I’d finished, Libby wasn’t even trying to hide her laughter. So embarrassing! My face flamed as I wrapped the two strips of material round her hands, careful to tie and secure them at the back rather than the front.

‘What have you got in your upper arms instead of muscles? Overcooked noodles?’

‘Thanks.’ Lips pursed, I glared at her. ‘Next time, sort out your own hands.’

‘I’m just teasing, Troy. Thank you.’

Hmm!

‘How’s your ankle?’ Libby said with an unsubtle change of subject.

‘The pain has reduced from a roar to a dull growl,’ I replied.

‘Let me see it,’ she said.

‘Later. Can you carry on?’ I asked, retrieving my makeshift spade.

Pause. At first I thought Libby was going to argue, but with a sigh she picked up her slat of wood.

‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘Let’s keep digging.’

It was slow going. Somehow I’d got it into my head that, after an hour, the hole would be deep enough to stand in. I shook my head at our pitiful excavations so far.

I glanced at Libby. She was still digging, but the expression on her face spoke volumes.

‘Let’s play Truth or Dare,’ I suggested. ‘It’ll help pass the time, unless you’d rather we sing?’

Libby sighed. ‘Truth or Dare it is then.’

‘I’ll start,’ I said quickly. ‘Which one d’you choose?’

Libby considered. ‘Truth.’

‘What’s the one thing you fear the most?’ I asked.

‘Wow! Start with an easy one.’ Libby raised an eyebrow. ‘You mean apart from being kidnapped and locked in a basement with a smelly bucket, no food and very little water?’

‘Yeah, apart from that,’ I agreed with a flash of a smile.

Pause. ‘Dying alone.’

Long moments passed as Libby and I looked at each other.

‘That’s not gonna happen,’ I told her.

‘Why not?’

‘Because.’

Libby was unimpressed. ‘Is that all you’ve got?’