But then she saw it — Tony’s Lexus, tipped on its side. Callie’s small form hanging in the driver’s seat, held up by the seatbelt. She ran.

*

Jill

Jill was still trying to make sense of it all. To understand what had happened. She started to work her way back and piece it all together.

She remembered leaving the service station.

She remembered seeing that look on Callie’s face. That look of terror that filled her with guilt and made her heartsick.

She looked sideways and remembered seeing Frank sitting there next to her. For a moment she was confused, her brain was muddled. But then the last twelve months slotted back into place in her mind. Frank hadn’t been there at all.

And then she remembered realising that she had to act. Calling Mimi.

And then.

And then . . .

The car smashing into her. Her reckoning.

But it wasn’t her reckoning, was it? Because she was still alive. And that’s when she started to think about her family. Because they’d all been travelling in convoy, hadn’t they? They’d been right behind her. So . . . where were they? Darren had been here, briefly, but where had he gone? And why hadn’t anyone else stopped?

That’s when it all fell into place in a rush. The impact after impact of more cars piling up after the first one had swerved into her. Her family hadn’t stopped to help her because her family had been involved in the accident.

She needed to go and help them.

*

Darren

He’d wrapped Pete’s bloodied arm up in a cloth he’d found on the back seat of their car. White with large yellow daisies. It must have belonged to one of the twins. It felt wrong to see the red patch blooming across the daisies. Pete still wasn’t right, but he was looking more alert and Darren knew he needed to get to the next car.

‘Listen, mate, I don’t want to leave you, but . . . Andrea, she looks bad . . . and there’s still no ambo yet. Do you think you’ll be . . . ?’

His brother lifted his head and made eye contact with him. ‘I’ll be fine. I’ll stay with the babies.’

Darren nodded and pulled away from the car. For a split second, he hesitated. What if he reached Andrea and found her . . . dead. She looked so still. So . . . lifeless. He was terrified. But then his body kicked back into gear and he started running towards the convertible. A glance at the damage on the car told him it must have rolled. The idea of it rolling with her strapped inside it made him almost gag. Could she really have survived that? And why was she alone anyway? Why had she and Tony brought separate cars?