`It was then that it struck me, with terrifying clarity. I was going to die. I was going to die at any moment. I was going to die, moreover, in a pair of tartan pyjamas and a grubby black cardigan. For whatever was attached to the headlights in front of me was actually driving on my side of the road…’
So begins Sally Matthews’ date with destiny. She doesn’t actually believe in destiny, of course – she’s way too busy looking after her husband, arranging her step-daughter’s wedding, and humouring her mum-on-a-mission (which currently involves Tony Blair). No surprise, then, that she’s out late at night, with nothing but a dog and a cricket bat for company. In short, Sally hasn’t time for a near-death experience. However handsome the man who’s about to run her off the road…
