Betty Neels - The Fifth Day of Christmas

The doctor sounded grim. ‘Yes, so am I—they’re the sort who cause a pile-up. He passed us at over a hundred and twenty.’

‘What were we doing when you overtook?’ Julia wanted to know.

He grinned. ‘Never you mind,’ he replied, ‘but it was either that or being pushed into the next world…’ He broke off and said something harsh and sudden in his own language, and Julia watched with silent horror as the car, careering madly half a mile ahead of them, tried to pass a huge transport which was on the point of crossing into the fast lane, and even as she watched she was aware that the doctor had slowed and was edging back on to the slow lane and on to the hard shoulder of the road, to stop close to the appalling chaos.

The transport driver, in a last-minute attempt to avert disaster, had slewed to his left, but the oncoming car had been too fast for him. It was wedged, no longer recognisable as a car, under the huge back wheels, its recent occupants lying untidily around it. Even as they were looking, two more cars crashed into it.

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