Fic - Truth and Reality - Chapter 5 - An offer worth considering
Author: Blue-Jackal (Anni)
Rating: PG
Pairing: No pairings as such in this chapter
Summary: Alex has finally published 'The Book' - her academic study of both Sam's and her own experiences.
Will anyone take her seriously, or will people think it the writings of a mad woman?
And could one group of readers be about to make a very interesting proposal?
Disclaimer: I'm a bit miffed that I don't own A2A
I really, really, really hope you like the twist, cos this was planned from the very start!
This is not the end yet...I have one more bit of this story to go after this....
It was quiet in the coffee shop today.
It wasn't too far from Alex's house and it was well within walking distance.
On a pleasant and sunny morning like this it had been an enjoyable walk.
Alex had sat herself at a table by the window, the sunshine through the glass warming her.
From here she could watch the world go by, watch the traffic and the people going about their business.
The psychologist in her sometimes analysed the behaviour of the people she watched, especially the traffic warden who was cautiously looking left and right before pouncing on a black Vauxhall Vectra that was parked on double yellow lines.
She watched, studying his predator like actions as he scribbled out a ticket, stuck it to the windscreen and then scurried away before the owner could return.
Fascinating, just sitting there watching peoples behaviour.
Alex had begun visiting this coffee shop regularly in the last fortnight, on the days she felt up to it at least.
It got her out of the house, got some fresh air in her lungs and the walk was good exercise.
She would go into the local corner shop to buy some milk, paper, maybe a magazine and then stop off for a coffee on the way home.
Not a strenuous effort by any means, but enough for her at the moment.
Indoors had begun to feel like a prison to Alex, and getting out and about again was the next step of her recovery...even if Evan had constantly reminded her to keep her mobile on at all times.
Alex stirred her latte...still a little too hot at the moment.
Instead, she took a bite of the slice of cake she had allowed herself today.
Usually Alex just had a coffee, but today she had decided to treat herself to a slice of cake. Nothing fancy, just plain sponge cake.
Full of fat and sugar, probably, but she let herself off just this once as a way of saying 'well done' to herself.
Well done because, after weeks of toil and research, Alex's report into both her and D.C.I Tyler's experience had finally been published in academic circles.
Titled "Mad? In a coma? Or back in time?”, Alex's study and breakdown of the events had run to just under one thousand pages.
Everything was significant and she had made a detailed breakdown of possible reasons for the human mind to conjure these things up...whilst leaving the reader in no doubt that she still had no viable explanation for some of the things she experienced, such as discovering the truth of her parents fate.
Now all Alex had to do was sit back and wait for the reactions from other, some even more highly trained, psychologists.
Part of Alex was looking forward to the responses.
Maybe someone would come up with a very viable explanation that had never before crossed her mind, and everything would suddenly fall into place.
The other half of her was dreading the academic world simply labelling her as 'bonkers'.
And that was why Alex was tapping her fingers nervously on several envelopes on the table next to her coffee.
These had been delivered in the post this morning and she had decided to bring them with her and open them here.
They didn't look like bills at all, they looked like letters, all addressed to her.
Finally, Alex took a sip of the hot latte and began to open the first letter....
This one was hand written...
"Dear Ms Drake,
I have just read, with great interest, your study of the events experienced by both yourself and the Manchester based Police officer.
I was fascinated by your descriptions of the events supposedly experienced by your good self and the Manchester officer.
My own feeling is as follows...
D.C.I Tyler suffered a traumatic event the day he was hit by the car, this being abduction of his girlfriend.
He himself admits in your notes that he was, emotionally, in pieces as he stepped from his car and into the path of the oncoming vehicle.
Therefore, the last thing playing on his mind was trauma.
In the prolonged deep coma that followed, it is possible that his brain was so focussed on trauma that it took this opportunity to study the most traumatic event of his life - this being his father leaving the family in 1973.
Your account of your own experience with 1981 would, to me, also indicate something similar.
On the morning of your shooting, you had dealt with a hostage situation which had nearly gone very wrong and had, regretfully, involved your own flesh and blood - your young daughter.
It doesn't take a psychologist to point out that this would be deeply traumatic for any mother.
However, your trauma didn't end there as you go on to describe being taken at gunpoint by this extremely unpleasant sounding Layton 'gentleman' before finally being shot by him.
During both of your encounters with Mr. Layton that morning, he constantly brought up the subject of your late parents.
This may already have begun to trigger a train of thought in your subconscious regarding the subject of 1981.
A train of thought that, perhaps, you were not even consciously aware of at the time.
Perhaps the trigger for this was Mr. Layton's references to the Bowie lyric, "I'm happy, hope you're happy too" which was playing in the car moments before the bombing?
After you were shot it seems to me, once again, that your mind has focussed on the deeply traumatic events you had the misfortune to experience as a child in 1981.
As for how you discovered the truth about your parents deaths, I must admit to being somewhat perplexed myself.
Could it be possible that you saw, read or overheard something as a child that you never thought relevant to anything at the time?
Could you have overheard Mr. Evan White confiding in someone but buried it deep within your subconscious?
As I am sure you are aware, sometimes the mind buries that which it doesn't understand.
I will close by saying that I think you were very brave in putting all of this into print.
I think your very detailed descriptions clearly demonstrate that there is far more to the human mind that we will ever understand in our lifetimes.
I also hope that this Mr. Layton is apprehended soon.
And finally, I do wish you a speedy and continued recovery and I do hope your daughter is well too.
Yours sincerely,
D.I. Catherine Blake,
Hampshire Constabulary"
"That wasn't so bad", Alex muttered almost silently and allowed herself a sigh of relief.
She was relieved to have been taken seriously by at least one reader and not ridiculed.
Alex decided she would pen a reply to this D.I. Blake later that afternoon.
From the way the letter was worded it sounded like D.I. Blake was also a police psychologist.
Maybe Alex had even encountered her at some point. She had liaised with many other Forces on cases and Hampshire was just one of them.
She smiled as she remembered that Gene would almost certainly have something to say about "them bunch of nancies down south".
London was about as down South as Gene would ever allow himself to set foot.
The thoughts once again of Gene disturbed Alex.
A key part of her investigation had been attempting to discover if there had ever been a Manchester D.C.I by the name of Gene Hunt.
Never in all of Alex's investigations had a search proved so fruitless, or so awkward.
Initially she had started with the Met in London.
Her immediate search had run into a metaphorical brick wall within five minutes flat on the day she returned to the station to clear her desk.
That act in itself had been a very strange feeling.
Alex had waited until late one evening to retrieve her things from the station.
It had been her ultimate acknowledgment of the fact that she would not be returning to work, and her reluctance had not been well hidden.
She had deliberately left it until late so as to avoid seeing her now ex-colleagues.
Alex hadn't liked to admit it but she had chosen to do it this way because she felt ashamed.
Ashamed because she was no longer Detective Inspector Drake of the Met, thorn in the side of numerous criminals...and the station coffee machine...she never had figured out how that thing worked.
She was now just Alex, a bullet lodged in her brain, the resulting damage preventing it from functioning properly.
She was damaged goods.
With a mental kick, Alex snapped herself back from those thoughts and took another sip of the latte.
Her search for Gene was something that frustrated her.
That evening she returned to the station, she had searched the records.
To her irritation, there was a huge gap in them.
Upon questioning one or two people, Alex had learned the reason why.
In the early 1980s, all the personnel files were on paper and filed away in the records department.
In 1986, half the building had been gutted by a fire which had been caused by an electrical fault in the wiring.
Every record from 1979 to 1986 had been destroyed.
It was an information black hole.
Disappointed as Alex had been, she hadn't allowed that to put her off.
Instead she had written to Greater Manchester Police and made some enquiries at their end.
Once again, it was as if fate was determined that Alex was not to find anything out.
The officer she had contacted in Manchester had indeed been very helpful and tried extremely hard to help her.
But the story came back that the station in Manchester had seen major renovation at some point between Sam's 1973 and his 2006.
There had indeed been records in Manchester but they had been stored terribly.
Nothing had been stored in any order. Files, even case files, had just been chucked into a records department without a care.
Over the years, things such as general wear and tear and a burst water pipe had made 90% of the records of the first half of the 1970's unreadable.
All that was salvaged were scraggly old water damaged bits of paper, the ink having long since run and faded.
Completely useless.
Alex was left in no doubt to the truth of Sam’s description of the Manchester station in 1973.
His own descriptions should have been enough to warn her of the mess the records would have been left in.
'One day', Alex had thought, 'one day I'll find out for sure even if it's the last thing I do'.
If Alex still had police clearance she might have been able to do a search on the Police National Computer...but even that privilege had been taken away from her now.
She had thought of asking one of her now ex-colleagues to do it for her on the quiet...but she had reconsidered.
It was only to be used for police business and she couldn't ask someone to risk getting into trouble on her account.
This was something Alex simply had to do herself.
After another gaze from the window, Alex began to open the second letter.
This one was typed.
"Dear Alex,
Please do excuse me writing to you.
I have read your 'Mad? In a coma? Or back in time?' piece very recently.
It is an extremely well written item and made for fascinating reading.
However, I really do feel it is something you are dwelling on far too much.
Please take no offence at this but I really do think you should consider talking to someone.
Clearly your childhood experiences in 1981 have traumatised you and, even when unconscious for a long time it seems you may still be struggling to deal with it.
Have you considered counselling?
There are some very good counsellors who can certainly help.
Once again I ask that you please do not take offence at my suggestion.
Yours sincerely,
John Lloyd
University of Shefield"
Alex puffed out a sigh at that one and simply let that letter drop to the table.
She placed her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand.
"One all", she said very quietly to herself as she weighed up the results so far of how many took her seriously and how many thought she had lost the plot, "to be expected I guess".
She was sure this gentleman had genuinely meant no offence and had clearly written out of concern, yet Alex still felt a little patronised by the suggestion that she needed counselling.
After all, this man had not experienced what Alex had. He may have read her writings but that could never be a substitute for what had really happened.
Alex also felt that the idea of counselling was ironic to say the very least.
She had been offered counselling a short while after waking up back in the hospital but had politely declined the offer.
As a trained psychologist Alex could see very little sense in talking through, and trying to come to terms with, her shooting and the results of it...with another psychologist of all people.
And that was without throwing in the 1981 elements of her story.
Occasionally, when she reflected upon the subject of counselling, Alex did feel a little hypocritical.
In the many cases where she had dealt with victims, be they victims of robbery, drugs, assault, rape, or the worst of all - breaking the news to a family that a loved one had died...the first thing Alex always did was offer counselling.
And yet there she had been, declining it herself.
As far as Alex was concerned, writing "Mad? In a Coma? Or back in time?" had been her counselling.
There had certainly been no details left out, and in a way, it had been like talking her experiences through with a stranger.
Lots of strangers.
In an odd kind of way, it had been therapeutic.
'So that's one for ‘onto-something’ ', Alex looked at the first letter, 'and one for ‘she's-nuts’ ' she looked at the second.
Only one letter remained.
This one looked rather official.
Maybe it was a bill after all.
Had she forgotten a payment for something?
Alex wracked her brains but nothing came to mind.
Taking a last bite of the cake, Alex began to open the final letter, a little apprehensive that 'she's-nuts' might be about to go 2-1 up on the score sheet.
It was indeed official and from a company.
It wasn't from any psychologists, police officers or even university lecturers...
Alex's curiosity piqued.
It was from a television company.
A company named Kudos Film & Television Ltd.
'Ooooookay', Alex thought, unsure of why a television company would write to her.
"Dear Ms Drake,
I do hope this letter finds you in good health.
Kudos Film and Television Ltd produces high quality British television drama and has been doing this to a high standard for a number of years.
Recently, your academic study titled "Mad? In a coma? Or back time?" was brought to our attention by two excellent producers who had encountered and become fascinated by it.
Despite your writings having only ever been intended as an academic study, we at Kudos feel it has tremendous potential.
We feel that British television has been lacking in quality for a number of years and our producers feel that this would be a very interesting concept to base a television drama on for the likes of Channel 4 or the BBC.
We would, of course, require your consent for the rights but we are happy to answer any questions you may have.
We feel extremely confident in how this should turn out.
Initialy we foresee the series as being based around the first half of your study, this being the story of D.C.I Sam Tyler of Greater Manchester Police.
If given the go ahead we plan to create this series under the title "Life on Mars", as the song does appear relevant at both the beginning and the end of Mr. Tyler’s story.
In a preliminary discussion with our producers we have decided that we would pursue the casting of some of Britain’s top actors such as John Simm for the role of D.C.I Tyler and we imagine Philip Glenister as being ideal for the role of D.C.I Hunt.
Should "Life on Mars" prove as big a success as we feel it very well may, we would then like to explore your own story should you give us permission.
This will only happen if "Life on Mars" is successful but we have discussed your story with our producers and they feel it would work as a post "Life on Mars" spin-off or follow up.
Provisionally we have the title "Ashes to ashes" in mind and I am sure you need no explanation as to why.
If this idea is appealing to you, or you have any questions, please do call us on the number printed on the bottom of the letter.
Many thanks for your time and we at Kudos hope your recovery is proceeding well,
Yours sincerely,
Simon Jones
Kudos Film and Television Ltd"
Alex read the letter again.
Maybe she was losing the plot after all?
Had that letter just said what she thought it said?
After the second reading, Alex put the letter down.
It was a rare occasion that Alex Drake was speechless, but this letter had succeeded in that feat.
Alex sat, staring at the letter, her eyebrows raised and jaw having dropped.
A car blaring its horn at another motorist brought Alex back into coherent thought.
"Bloody hell!" she exclaimed in a loud whisper as she stared at the letter that lay in front of her, "Just....Bloody hell!".
Alex finished her coffee quickly, stuffed the letters into the corner shop carrier bag and scurried out of the coffee shop.
She was bound for home....and Alex Drake had a phone call to make!
End of chapter 5
----------------------
PS) Yes I made up the name of the guy who wrote from Kudos.
Rating: PG
Pairing: No pairings as such in this chapter
Summary: Alex has finally published 'The Book' - her academic study of both Sam's and her own experiences.
Will anyone take her seriously, or will people think it the writings of a mad woman?
And could one group of readers be about to make a very interesting proposal?
Disclaimer: I'm a bit miffed that I don't own A2A
I really, really, really hope you like the twist, cos this was planned from the very start!
This is not the end yet...I have one more bit of this story to go after this....
It was quiet in the coffee shop today.
It wasn't too far from Alex's house and it was well within walking distance.
On a pleasant and sunny morning like this it had been an enjoyable walk.
Alex had sat herself at a table by the window, the sunshine through the glass warming her.
From here she could watch the world go by, watch the traffic and the people going about their business.
The psychologist in her sometimes analysed the behaviour of the people she watched, especially the traffic warden who was cautiously looking left and right before pouncing on a black Vauxhall Vectra that was parked on double yellow lines.
She watched, studying his predator like actions as he scribbled out a ticket, stuck it to the windscreen and then scurried away before the owner could return.
Fascinating, just sitting there watching peoples behaviour.
Alex had begun visiting this coffee shop regularly in the last fortnight, on the days she felt up to it at least.
It got her out of the house, got some fresh air in her lungs and the walk was good exercise.
She would go into the local corner shop to buy some milk, paper, maybe a magazine and then stop off for a coffee on the way home.
Not a strenuous effort by any means, but enough for her at the moment.
Indoors had begun to feel like a prison to Alex, and getting out and about again was the next step of her recovery...even if Evan had constantly reminded her to keep her mobile on at all times.
Alex stirred her latte...still a little too hot at the moment.
Instead, she took a bite of the slice of cake she had allowed herself today.
Usually Alex just had a coffee, but today she had decided to treat herself to a slice of cake. Nothing fancy, just plain sponge cake.
Full of fat and sugar, probably, but she let herself off just this once as a way of saying 'well done' to herself.
Well done because, after weeks of toil and research, Alex's report into both her and D.C.I Tyler's experience had finally been published in academic circles.
Titled "Mad? In a coma? Or back in time?”, Alex's study and breakdown of the events had run to just under one thousand pages.
Everything was significant and she had made a detailed breakdown of possible reasons for the human mind to conjure these things up...whilst leaving the reader in no doubt that she still had no viable explanation for some of the things she experienced, such as discovering the truth of her parents fate.
Now all Alex had to do was sit back and wait for the reactions from other, some even more highly trained, psychologists.
Part of Alex was looking forward to the responses.
Maybe someone would come up with a very viable explanation that had never before crossed her mind, and everything would suddenly fall into place.
The other half of her was dreading the academic world simply labelling her as 'bonkers'.
And that was why Alex was tapping her fingers nervously on several envelopes on the table next to her coffee.
These had been delivered in the post this morning and she had decided to bring them with her and open them here.
They didn't look like bills at all, they looked like letters, all addressed to her.
Finally, Alex took a sip of the hot latte and began to open the first letter....
This one was hand written...
"Dear Ms Drake,
I have just read, with great interest, your study of the events experienced by both yourself and the Manchester based Police officer.
I was fascinated by your descriptions of the events supposedly experienced by your good self and the Manchester officer.
My own feeling is as follows...
D.C.I Tyler suffered a traumatic event the day he was hit by the car, this being abduction of his girlfriend.
He himself admits in your notes that he was, emotionally, in pieces as he stepped from his car and into the path of the oncoming vehicle.
Therefore, the last thing playing on his mind was trauma.
In the prolonged deep coma that followed, it is possible that his brain was so focussed on trauma that it took this opportunity to study the most traumatic event of his life - this being his father leaving the family in 1973.
Your account of your own experience with 1981 would, to me, also indicate something similar.
On the morning of your shooting, you had dealt with a hostage situation which had nearly gone very wrong and had, regretfully, involved your own flesh and blood - your young daughter.
It doesn't take a psychologist to point out that this would be deeply traumatic for any mother.
However, your trauma didn't end there as you go on to describe being taken at gunpoint by this extremely unpleasant sounding Layton 'gentleman' before finally being shot by him.
During both of your encounters with Mr. Layton that morning, he constantly brought up the subject of your late parents.
This may already have begun to trigger a train of thought in your subconscious regarding the subject of 1981.
A train of thought that, perhaps, you were not even consciously aware of at the time.
Perhaps the trigger for this was Mr. Layton's references to the Bowie lyric, "I'm happy, hope you're happy too" which was playing in the car moments before the bombing?
After you were shot it seems to me, once again, that your mind has focussed on the deeply traumatic events you had the misfortune to experience as a child in 1981.
As for how you discovered the truth about your parents deaths, I must admit to being somewhat perplexed myself.
Could it be possible that you saw, read or overheard something as a child that you never thought relevant to anything at the time?
Could you have overheard Mr. Evan White confiding in someone but buried it deep within your subconscious?
As I am sure you are aware, sometimes the mind buries that which it doesn't understand.
I will close by saying that I think you were very brave in putting all of this into print.
I think your very detailed descriptions clearly demonstrate that there is far more to the human mind that we will ever understand in our lifetimes.
I also hope that this Mr. Layton is apprehended soon.
And finally, I do wish you a speedy and continued recovery and I do hope your daughter is well too.
Yours sincerely,
D.I. Catherine Blake,
Hampshire Constabulary"
"That wasn't so bad", Alex muttered almost silently and allowed herself a sigh of relief.
She was relieved to have been taken seriously by at least one reader and not ridiculed.
Alex decided she would pen a reply to this D.I. Blake later that afternoon.
From the way the letter was worded it sounded like D.I. Blake was also a police psychologist.
Maybe Alex had even encountered her at some point. She had liaised with many other Forces on cases and Hampshire was just one of them.
She smiled as she remembered that Gene would almost certainly have something to say about "them bunch of nancies down south".
London was about as down South as Gene would ever allow himself to set foot.
The thoughts once again of Gene disturbed Alex.
A key part of her investigation had been attempting to discover if there had ever been a Manchester D.C.I by the name of Gene Hunt.
Never in all of Alex's investigations had a search proved so fruitless, or so awkward.
Initially she had started with the Met in London.
Her immediate search had run into a metaphorical brick wall within five minutes flat on the day she returned to the station to clear her desk.
That act in itself had been a very strange feeling.
Alex had waited until late one evening to retrieve her things from the station.
It had been her ultimate acknowledgment of the fact that she would not be returning to work, and her reluctance had not been well hidden.
She had deliberately left it until late so as to avoid seeing her now ex-colleagues.
Alex hadn't liked to admit it but she had chosen to do it this way because she felt ashamed.
Ashamed because she was no longer Detective Inspector Drake of the Met, thorn in the side of numerous criminals...and the station coffee machine...she never had figured out how that thing worked.
She was now just Alex, a bullet lodged in her brain, the resulting damage preventing it from functioning properly.
She was damaged goods.
With a mental kick, Alex snapped herself back from those thoughts and took another sip of the latte.
Her search for Gene was something that frustrated her.
That evening she returned to the station, she had searched the records.
To her irritation, there was a huge gap in them.
Upon questioning one or two people, Alex had learned the reason why.
In the early 1980s, all the personnel files were on paper and filed away in the records department.
In 1986, half the building had been gutted by a fire which had been caused by an electrical fault in the wiring.
Every record from 1979 to 1986 had been destroyed.
It was an information black hole.
Disappointed as Alex had been, she hadn't allowed that to put her off.
Instead she had written to Greater Manchester Police and made some enquiries at their end.
Once again, it was as if fate was determined that Alex was not to find anything out.
The officer she had contacted in Manchester had indeed been very helpful and tried extremely hard to help her.
But the story came back that the station in Manchester had seen major renovation at some point between Sam's 1973 and his 2006.
There had indeed been records in Manchester but they had been stored terribly.
Nothing had been stored in any order. Files, even case files, had just been chucked into a records department without a care.
Over the years, things such as general wear and tear and a burst water pipe had made 90% of the records of the first half of the 1970's unreadable.
All that was salvaged were scraggly old water damaged bits of paper, the ink having long since run and faded.
Completely useless.
Alex was left in no doubt to the truth of Sam’s description of the Manchester station in 1973.
His own descriptions should have been enough to warn her of the mess the records would have been left in.
'One day', Alex had thought, 'one day I'll find out for sure even if it's the last thing I do'.
If Alex still had police clearance she might have been able to do a search on the Police National Computer...but even that privilege had been taken away from her now.
She had thought of asking one of her now ex-colleagues to do it for her on the quiet...but she had reconsidered.
It was only to be used for police business and she couldn't ask someone to risk getting into trouble on her account.
This was something Alex simply had to do herself.
After another gaze from the window, Alex began to open the second letter.
This one was typed.
"Dear Alex,
Please do excuse me writing to you.
I have read your 'Mad? In a coma? Or back in time?' piece very recently.
It is an extremely well written item and made for fascinating reading.
However, I really do feel it is something you are dwelling on far too much.
Please take no offence at this but I really do think you should consider talking to someone.
Clearly your childhood experiences in 1981 have traumatised you and, even when unconscious for a long time it seems you may still be struggling to deal with it.
Have you considered counselling?
There are some very good counsellors who can certainly help.
Once again I ask that you please do not take offence at my suggestion.
Yours sincerely,
John Lloyd
University of Shefield"
Alex puffed out a sigh at that one and simply let that letter drop to the table.
She placed her elbow on the table and rested her chin in her hand.
"One all", she said very quietly to herself as she weighed up the results so far of how many took her seriously and how many thought she had lost the plot, "to be expected I guess".
She was sure this gentleman had genuinely meant no offence and had clearly written out of concern, yet Alex still felt a little patronised by the suggestion that she needed counselling.
After all, this man had not experienced what Alex had. He may have read her writings but that could never be a substitute for what had really happened.
Alex also felt that the idea of counselling was ironic to say the very least.
She had been offered counselling a short while after waking up back in the hospital but had politely declined the offer.
As a trained psychologist Alex could see very little sense in talking through, and trying to come to terms with, her shooting and the results of it...with another psychologist of all people.
And that was without throwing in the 1981 elements of her story.
Occasionally, when she reflected upon the subject of counselling, Alex did feel a little hypocritical.
In the many cases where she had dealt with victims, be they victims of robbery, drugs, assault, rape, or the worst of all - breaking the news to a family that a loved one had died...the first thing Alex always did was offer counselling.
And yet there she had been, declining it herself.
As far as Alex was concerned, writing "Mad? In a Coma? Or back in time?" had been her counselling.
There had certainly been no details left out, and in a way, it had been like talking her experiences through with a stranger.
Lots of strangers.
In an odd kind of way, it had been therapeutic.
'So that's one for ‘onto-something’ ', Alex looked at the first letter, 'and one for ‘she's-nuts’ ' she looked at the second.
Only one letter remained.
This one looked rather official.
Maybe it was a bill after all.
Had she forgotten a payment for something?
Alex wracked her brains but nothing came to mind.
Taking a last bite of the cake, Alex began to open the final letter, a little apprehensive that 'she's-nuts' might be about to go 2-1 up on the score sheet.
It was indeed official and from a company.
It wasn't from any psychologists, police officers or even university lecturers...
Alex's curiosity piqued.
It was from a television company.
A company named Kudos Film & Television Ltd.
'Ooooookay', Alex thought, unsure of why a television company would write to her.
"Dear Ms Drake,
I do hope this letter finds you in good health.
Kudos Film and Television Ltd produces high quality British television drama and has been doing this to a high standard for a number of years.
Recently, your academic study titled "Mad? In a coma? Or back time?" was brought to our attention by two excellent producers who had encountered and become fascinated by it.
Despite your writings having only ever been intended as an academic study, we at Kudos feel it has tremendous potential.
We feel that British television has been lacking in quality for a number of years and our producers feel that this would be a very interesting concept to base a television drama on for the likes of Channel 4 or the BBC.
We would, of course, require your consent for the rights but we are happy to answer any questions you may have.
We feel extremely confident in how this should turn out.
Initialy we foresee the series as being based around the first half of your study, this being the story of D.C.I Sam Tyler of Greater Manchester Police.
If given the go ahead we plan to create this series under the title "Life on Mars", as the song does appear relevant at both the beginning and the end of Mr. Tyler’s story.
In a preliminary discussion with our producers we have decided that we would pursue the casting of some of Britain’s top actors such as John Simm for the role of D.C.I Tyler and we imagine Philip Glenister as being ideal for the role of D.C.I Hunt.
Should "Life on Mars" prove as big a success as we feel it very well may, we would then like to explore your own story should you give us permission.
This will only happen if "Life on Mars" is successful but we have discussed your story with our producers and they feel it would work as a post "Life on Mars" spin-off or follow up.
Provisionally we have the title "Ashes to ashes" in mind and I am sure you need no explanation as to why.
If this idea is appealing to you, or you have any questions, please do call us on the number printed on the bottom of the letter.
Many thanks for your time and we at Kudos hope your recovery is proceeding well,
Yours sincerely,
Simon Jones
Kudos Film and Television Ltd"
Alex read the letter again.
Maybe she was losing the plot after all?
Had that letter just said what she thought it said?
After the second reading, Alex put the letter down.
It was a rare occasion that Alex Drake was speechless, but this letter had succeeded in that feat.
Alex sat, staring at the letter, her eyebrows raised and jaw having dropped.
A car blaring its horn at another motorist brought Alex back into coherent thought.
"Bloody hell!" she exclaimed in a loud whisper as she stared at the letter that lay in front of her, "Just....Bloody hell!".
Alex finished her coffee quickly, stuffed the letters into the corner shop carrier bag and scurried out of the coffee shop.
She was bound for home....and Alex Drake had a phone call to make!
End of chapter 5
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PS) Yes I made up the name of the guy who wrote from Kudos.