Part 1
August 15, 1971
“Daddy! I need to do a wee-wee! I think Benji does as well!” piped a shrill voice from the back seat of the car.
It was fair comment. It had, indeed, been a long journey for an impatient 5-year old and a wappy
Dalmatian puppy but they would soon be at their destination, a holiday cottage that was virtually on the beach.
In order to make the journey as relatively stress-free as possible, Roger, his wife Melanie and their daughter Jessie had set off in the small hours and travelled through the night. They were now on the final stretch of newly-built motorway, a couple of junctions before their exit which in turn was a relatively short trip through country lanes to the sea.
“We’ll soon be there, sweetie,” Roger calmly assured his daughter, “won’t we, Mel?” he continued, turning to his wife. “You’ve been doing the navigating, how much further do you reckon? We can’t stop on the motorway though, Jess, or the Police will be cross with us.”
“But I need to go!” Jessie wailed.
“Can you hold on for a bit, Jessie?” pleaded Mel. “It’ll only be a few more …”
Melanie’s words were interrupted by a shuddering from the front near-side wheel. It was followed by a lurch to the same side, causing Mel and Jessie to jump in their seats. Roger immediately slowed.
The car slithered on the damp asphalt of the motorway.
