“Martin, stop!” says Jill, with an air of urgency. But I have seen the same thing at the same time. I slow the car, scanning the scene ahead, trying to absorb the scene before me. “Right, I just need to …”. I am searching the dashboard for that elusive, rarely used button with the triangle on. And I’m checking the road behind me in mirror – I don’t want to become part of the accident too. There. My hazard lights are on now and there is no one else behind me. It’s only just gone six in the morning. It would have been a different story later in the day with the road full of holiday traffic. I open my door; not what I would usually do in the inside lane of a fast dual carriageway. “Give me your phone,” says Jill. I’ll call the police”. I’m not surprised that Jill takes the admin role. She knows she’s no good with blood.
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