The pharmacist, p.1
The Pharmacist, page 1
The Pharmacist
Gillian Jackson
Copyright © 2021 Gillian Jackson
The right of Gillian Jackson to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by her in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.
First published in 2021 by Bloodhound Books.
Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means, with prior permission in writing of the publisher or, in the case of reprographic production, in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
www.bloodhoundbooks.com
Print ISBN 978-1-914614-49-1
Contents
Love best-selling fiction?
Prologue
Part I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Part II
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Part III
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Chapter 43
Chapter 44
Chapter 45
Chapter 46
Chapter 47
Chapter 48
Chapter 49
Epilogue
Note from the author
Acknowledgements
A note from the publisher
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For Mum
Enid Shaw, 1933 – 2019
Prologue
The Catalyst
‘And on that farm he had some pigs, e i e i o…’ The two little girls collapsed into the back seat of the car in fits of giggles as they snorted like pigs, their cheerful laughter drifting out of the open car windows into the heat of the August morning.
The woman in the front passenger seat drew in a deep breath and relaxed into the contours of the seat, briefly closing her eyes, a smile playing across her lips. It was good to get away, she thought, to enjoy some family time, and the day looked as if it was turning into an absolute scorcher. Perfect.
At the wheel of the bronze Ford Granada Scorpio, her husband concentrated on the road, well aware of his responsibility to his precious cargo. The rising temperature quickly burned off the surface water from the overnight rain and a heat haze ahead gave an ethereal feel to the landscape. Quietly humming along to the familiar children’s song, he dropped down a gear as the incline steepened and they approached a bend.
* * *
Sadly, not everyone was as circumspect that day. Heading towards the Granada was a white Transit van, an ancient model that had seen better days and was travelling far too fast for such a notorious stretch of road. A brash seventeen-year-old, yet to gain his full driving licence, was at the wheel, an arrogant youth, lightheaded from three cans of lager already consumed that morning and egged on by his eighteen-year-old friend.
‘Get the feel of the wheel,’ his friend goaded him into putting his foot down, but the approaching bend was much sharper than he anticipated and the befuddled, inexperienced driver struggled to control the vehicle. The road narrowed without warning and in order to avoid colliding with a barrier on the near side, he yanked the wheel sharply to the right, taking the van across the central white lines and onto the right-hand side of the road.
The driver of the Granada, turning into the same bend from the opposite direction, was suddenly confronted with the Transit van and instinctively swerved to his left to avoid a head-on collision. Unfortunately, he didn’t stand a chance and the Granada veered off the road through the flimsy weather-weakened crash barrier, which buckled immediately at the force of the impact, and the car plunged down a steep incline.
The vehicle bounced like a rubber ball as it gathered momentum, the occupants shocked and helpless, screaming in panic and wild fear without the slightest hope of being heard. Shattering glass and crunching metal coalesced with the occupants’ screams, drowning out the children’s CD, which still merrily played its tune. The airbags activated and the seat belts held, but nothing could save them. Four precious lives ended abruptly that day in such a cruel, violent and unnecessary way, the ugly reality of death incongruous on such a glorious summer day.
The trembling pale-faced driver of the van swung the wheel to his left and narrowly avoided colliding with the near-side barrier. He was well aware of what had happened, as was his passenger, but he drove on shakily, fear and guilt washing over him in equal measures. He stopped the van in a passing place about half a mile down the road, exited his vehicle, and vomited violently at the side of the road.
His friend jumped out too. ‘What the hell happened?’
‘It was your fault. You told me to put my bloody foot down!’ He wiped his mouth with his sleeve and spat more foul-tasting bile onto the roadside.
Their angry words were stilled by the sudden, unmistakable, sound of an explosion. Turning, they looked back. Plumes of black smoke were already belching into the sky, the perfect summer day marred by the ugliness of the crash.
The pair were as sure as they could be that no one else witnessed the incident. It all happened so quickly that any passing vehicle would barely have time to register their mistake, least of all, remember their number plate. As other vehicles stopped, their occupants climbing out to stare impotently over the edge at the burning wreckage, the youths jumped back into their van and drove away.
The two made a pact never to speak of the incident again, and the only other people who knew the truth were, by then, forever silent.
Part I
The Mother
1
Alice Roberts rolled over in bed, surprised to find an empty space at her side. It was only 7am, but already Tom was up. She supposed the habits of a lifetime were hard to break and wondered, not for the first time, if her husband would find adjusting to retirement challenging. Tom was such an active man, never still, his body always in motion.
The chance of more sleep was inviting but proved impossible. Thoughts of the day ahead and the many tasks awaiting her filled Alice’s mind – there were still several finishing touches she wished to make to complete their new home, a task she relished and would enjoy.
As Alice pushed the duvet back and padded to the en suite for a shower, a somewhat disorientated feeling washed over her. Perhaps she’d consumed too much wine the evening before, she couldn’t remember, but it would come back to her when she was fully awake and her head stopped throbbing.
Silence hung heavily in the house. Only the unfamiliar plumbing noises interrupted the stillness, sounds to which Alice was becoming accustomed and which barely registered in her consciousness. It was strange how every house created its peculiar noises, creaks and groans, which you ceased to notice over time. Tom’s voice, singing along to the radio, would have been welcome, but he must have taken Barney for a walk. It was such a lovely morning and he’d probably be back by the time Alice showered and dressed.
* * *
Twenty minutes later, with the kettle full and starting to boil, Alice gazed from the kitchen window for signs of her husband’s return. There was something niggling at the back of her mind, something she and Tom wanted to discuss with their daughter, Rachel, but Alice couldn’t recall what it was. Snatches of a half-finished conversation drifted into her head and then out again, but the details eluded her. Was it something to do with them moving here? No, not that. Alice’s mind felt quite woolly. She hated being unable to remember. Tom would remind her when he came home. She did feel a little strange this morning; perhaps the stress of the recent move was catching up on her.
The view from the kitchen window was nothing short of spectacular. Open countryside stretched over the lush green Eden valley and a narrow wooded path offered a pretty circular route of about two miles. It was perfect for walking their little mongrel dog and for keeping them fit. It was this view and the near-perfect situation of Melkinthorpe which initially attracted them to the cottage. The village, or perhaps it was best described as a hamlet, was home to a popular garden centre and tea rooms, as well as a smattering of chocolate-box cottages. The proximity of the Lake District and the sprawling gardens and woodland of nearby Lowth er Castle guaranteed that there would be plenty of exploring to fill their retirement hours. June was turning out to be warm and the forecasters promised a hot summer ahead, the first of many, Alice hoped, in their new home.
Alice knew that not being in Penrith itself suited their daughter more than them. Rachel would not have cared for them to be living too close to her, Tom and Alice were in no doubt of that and saddened by it, but it was a fact they’d come to accept and another reason why Melkinthorpe was so perfect for their retirement home.
Alice hadn’t yet met any of their neighbours, but now they were finally in residence and retirement was becoming a reality, she intended to remedy this by inviting them around for coffee to get to know them. Perhaps she might even join in some of the village activities. It would be interesting to see what was on offer. A WI maybe, Alice would enjoy the opportunity to make new friends, perhaps even become part of the jam and Jerusalem brigade. She smiled at the thought.
* * *
An hour later, there was still no sign of her husband, and Alice was starting to worry. She was also feeling nauseous and dizzy. Surely Tom would have left a note if he’d intended being this long? Alice could see her beloved Mini Cooper parked in the drive from the front window of the house and decided to check the garage to see if Tom had taken his car to go further afield. It was an effort; she felt a strong desire to return to bed to sleep off this awful sickly feeling but the need to know where Tom was spurred her on.
The garage was empty, which was more of a puzzle than the comfort for which she’d hoped. If Tom planned to go any distance, he would have told her the night before or woken her before leaving. Going back inside, Alice picked up the phone to ring Rachel. If her husband were anywhere, surely it would be with her. She could think of nowhere else that Tom could be.
‘Hi, Rachel, sorry to ring so early but is Dad with you?’
‘Mother?’ Her daughter, usually brusque and business like asked, ‘Are you okay?’ Alice hoped she hadn’t woken her.
‘Yes, fine, thanks, love. It’s just that your dad’s taken Barney out and hasn’t come back yet. He’s taken the car too, so I thought perhaps he’d popped over to see you?’ Even as she formed the words, Alice knew it was irrational that Tom would be at their daughter’s so early in the morning; they rarely visited uninvited. Something felt strangely amiss and Alice was beginning to feel decidedly ill.
‘Stay there. I’ll be over in a few minutes.’
‘But there’s no need. If Dad’s not with you, I’m sure he’ll be back soon, although there was something we wanted to talk to you about – no, never mind that now. I’d ring his mobile, but you know he never has it switched on and the signal here’s a bit iffy.’ Alice’s voice began to break as she spoke, her head still ached and she felt increasingly dizzy.
‘Stay there,’ Rachel repeated. ‘I’ll be with you soon.’ Rachel ended the call before there was time for further protest. Feeling foolish about causing such a fuss, Alice hoped their daughter wouldn’t be angry. Tom would surely be back before Rachel arrived. It was only 9.30am, he’d hardly been gone long enough for her to worry, but if Rachel wanted to come round, she would. Alice learned a long time ago that their only child would do precisely as she wanted to do in life. Moving slowly back into the kitchen, Alice made herself a coffee, hoping it would revive her and banish the throbbing headache.
It was in the kitchen that Alice noticed the red coat hanging on the rack beside the door. How strange – it wasn’t her coat and she couldn’t remember seeing Rachel wearing it either. Whatever was going on? A heavy, uncomfortable, knot was forming in the pit of Alice’s stomach and she felt suddenly quite queasy and more than a little afraid. Sitting down, she looked around the room, taking in everything that was there and that wasn’t. Barney’s lead was missing from the coat rack, Tom must have taken him, yet his food and water bowls were gone too. Her eyes travelled through to the lounge where the dog’s bed nestled in the corner, but no, that also was no longer there. Turning her head back to the coat rack, Tom’s old parka was missing, but if he’d left early, it would still have been cool so he could be wearing it. Nothing unusual there.
Unsteadily, Alice got to her feet and went into the hall. Opening the cloakroom door revealed only her two everyday coats hanging up, with a few pairs of shoes underneath, her shoes. All of Tom’s things were missing. She made her way back to the kitchen and sat down, her legs suddenly weak, unable to support her.
The crazy idea that Tom had left her popped unbidden into her head. He must have left in the night and taken Barney with him, but why? Life couldn’t have been better for them. They were happy – weren’t they? On the cusp of retirement, while they were still young enough to enjoy themselves, financially secure, well off even – what could possibly be wrong? And Tom wasn’t a coward; surely, if he wanted to leave her, he’d have said so to her face and not just slunk off into the night without a word.
Was there another woman? The very thought was unbearably painful. Tom was the bright spot in her life, her soulmate. But if there was another woman, could the red coat be hers? No, that was crazy. Why would it be hanging in their kitchen? It was all wrong and all very unsettling. Tom would soon walk through the front door, Barney at his heels, and explain everything to her. They would laugh about it in time, wouldn’t they?
The sensible thing to do would be to check the bedroom, Tom’s wardrobe, his toiletries. Seeing those things would reassure her, but before she could summon up the strength to move, the sound of the front door closing startled her. Alice looked up to see Rachel hurrying through the hall.
‘Are you okay?’ Rachel approached her mother, a frown etched on her face.
‘No, I’m not. Your dad’s not here. I think he’s left me! I can’t find his things and he’s taken Barney too.’ Tears were rolling down Alice’s cheeks as she looked hopefully to her daughter for an explanation.
‘Let me get you a fresh coffee, and then we’ll talk.’
‘I don’t want another coffee; I want to know what’s happening!’
‘Okay, well, at least take these. They’ll help to calm you down.’ Rachel took a small brown bottle from her bag and shook out a couple of white pills.
Alice took the two tablets her daughter offered and swallowed them with a gulp of cold coffee. She then stared intently at Rachel, willing her to explain what she couldn’t comprehend.
‘Did you know that your dad was going to leave me?’
‘No, Dad hasn’t left you… not in the way you mean. But, look, Mum, you’re confused about things, so I’m going to call the doctor.’
‘I don’t need a doctor. I need to know what’s going on. Where’s your father?’
‘Why don’t you go back to bed and I’ll ring the surgery?’
‘No, why won’t you tell me, Rachel, where is your father?’
‘But, Mum… Dad died nearly four years ago, don’t you remember?’
‘No! Of course he didn’t die. I’d know that! He was here last night, and you were too, but this morning he’s gone. I thought he’d just taken Barney for his walk. What are you talking about?’
