The Pharmacist
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About this ebook
A woman’s mind begins to spiral as she tries to sort out truth, lies, and mysteries about her family in a novel by the bestselling author of Abduction.
Alice’s husband is missing. Has he left her for another woman, or has something more sinister happened? In a world that is becoming increasingly muddled, Alice is unsure whom she can trust. Even her daughter appears to be lying to her. How much heartache can one person endure?
As strange things begin to happen, Alice struggles to separate reality from fantasy—and to make sense of a mystery surrounding Millie, her beautiful five-year-old granddaughter. Sometimes it takes a stranger to help. And sometimes you need a detective . . .
Gillian Jackson
Gillian Jackson is the author of several psychological thrillers, including Abducted and The Accident. She initially pursued a career in childcare before moving on to train as a therapeutic counselor and eventually to a role in the voluntary sector with Victim Support. Her five years with the organization provided a wealth of experience and insight into the criminal-justice system, which has enriched her understanding of human nature and her writing.
Read more from Gillian Jackson
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Reviews for The Pharmacist
101 ratings16 reviews
What our readers think
Readers find this title to be an excellent story that is hard to put down. The premise is enjoyable, although the writing style is stilted and clunky at times. The plot line is the highlight, appealing to fans of British police dramas. The book is an easy and chilling read, highlighting the manipulation of older people. While the execution and writing style could use improvement, the end result is satisfying. Overall, it is a great read with a good concept and intriguing storyline.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Couldn't put it down! Very well written, will look for more from this author.
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Well written. Keeps you turning pages. To find out who is the crazy.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5This book had me sucked in from the start... I've seen it pop up on my reading app alot but never read it then last week decided to start it and was not disappointed its easy to follow and kept me intrigued through out its 5 stars from me ???????
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Really enjoyed the premise. The book kind of ends abruptly but overall I enjoyed it.
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5Good concept In plot but the different parts in the story were just off. Lacked flow and made it a bit of a confusing read
- Rating: 3 out of 5 stars3/5The book was okay. I’d wish Tom was still alive. I couldn’t put it down until I finished it in within 2 days.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5I couldn’t put it down! It was a great read.
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5Interesting premise, but writing style is a bit too sophomoric for my taste. I expected more in-depth intrigue behind the antagonist’s motive but was let down with standard fare. OK, but not Great.
1 person found this helpful
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5Super easy read. A bit suspenseful but you can kind of imagine where the story goes
1 person found this helpful
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5An excellent story that was hard to put down. Five stars.
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Great read - well written with interesting end to the story
- Rating: 4 out of 5 stars4/5An easy to read book but quite chilling in the way that older people are considered incapable or unreliable simply because of their age and how easily they can be manipulated.
1 person found this helpful
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5It’s not great literature and the writing style is quite clunky but the plot line is what makes it all worthwhile. It would appeal to people who like the many British police dramas that populate our TV screens.
1 person found this helpful
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5The writing is quite stilted and has a monochromatic tone.
2 people found this helpful
- Rating: 2 out of 5 stars2/5Good premise poor execution needs serious editing glad it was free
1 person found this helpful
- Rating: 5 out of 5 stars5/5Easy to read, straight forward and a good end result where those that need to get what they deserve.
1 person found this helpful
Book preview
The Pharmacist - Gillian Jackson
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 Lowther 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?’
‘You’re obviously not well. Let me call the doctor. You’ve got some kind of delirium and your mind’s not working properly. Try not to worry, we’ll get it sorted and you’ll be fine.’ Rachel pulled out her phone while Alice struggled to take in her daughter’s words. It couldn’t be true. Tom had been with them both last night – hadn’t he?
Rachel left the kitchen to make the call. When she returned, she told Alice that the doctor was coming soon.
‘Why are you telling me that Tom’s dead? It’s a wicked thing to say. Is this some sort of sick joke?’
‘No, Mum, it’s true, I’m sorry. Don’t you remember? Dad had a heart attack nearly four years ago; it was very sudden, but for some reason, you seem to have forgotten all about it.’
‘But there are other things too, the red coat over there.’ Alice nodded towards the door, ‘Whose is that? And what about Barney, his bed is gone and his bowl…’
‘The coat’s yours. We chose it last Christmas on one of our shopping trips, don’t you remember?’
‘No, I never wear red. Don’t lie to me, Rachel, and what about the dog?’
‘Barney’s gone too, I’m afraid. He died a couple of years ago, long before you moved here. He was old and there was nothing we could do.’
‘Stop it! You’re making it all up. Let me try Tom’s phone, he might have switched it on by now.’
‘I’m not making it up… Why would I do that? Look, the doctor will be here soon. Why don’t you go to bed and try to sleep some more?’
Alice was feeling sleepy. Her mind was swimming too. Reluctantly she allowed her daughter to guide her to the bedroom, where she lay down on the bed and very soon succumbed to the welcome oblivion of sleep.
* * *
‘Thank you for coming so quickly, doctor. My mother rang me this morning, asking if I knew where Dad was, but my father died four years ago. She seems totally confused; do you think it could be an infection? That can cause delirium, can’t it?’
‘It could be, we can do some tests to see, but if you’d like to wake her for me now, I’ll examine her and have a chat with her.’
* * *
Alice half heard the conversation through an increasingly foggy mind and opened her eyes as Rachel gently shook her arm. The feeling of disorientation had increased, and as she tried to sit up, dizziness made her reel and Alice flopped back down. The unfamiliar doctor smiled as he introduced himself. Since the move, she’d not had cause to visit the surgery, not even to register as a patient.
‘How are you feeling, Mrs Roberts?’ He was already taking out his stethoscope to sound her chest. Tears welled in Alice’s eyes as she discovered that she couldn’t form the words she wanted to speak. What was happening to her? Was she going mad? The doctor continued his examination and asked his questions, but her mouth refused to work and she found herself making deep guttural noises rather than forming complete words. Alice was terrified, she wanted Tom, but Rachel said that Tom was dead. Was he? If so, why couldn’t she remember?
Rachel and the doctor left her and moved into the lounge. Alice could hear muffled voices but was unable to hear much of what they were saying.
‘You may be right about an infection, but I’m a little concerned about her speech.’ The doctor spoke kindly. ‘It could be that she’s had a mild stroke. But then, it could also be dementia; it’s too early to say definitively. Have you noticed any unusual behaviour recently, memory loss or confusion perhaps?’
‘Now you come to mention it, she has been a little confused lately, but I put it down to the stress of moving house and she’s never really coped well since my father died. She’s been a bit forgetful of late too, but again, I assumed it was stress.’ Rachel looked thoughtful as the doctor continued.
‘I’d like your mother to be admitted to hospital for a CT scan to rule out a stroke. So I’ll send for an ambulance and we’ll get her to hospital straight away for that brain scan. Is that all right with you?’
‘Of course, whatever’s best for Mum, thank you, doctor.’
* * *
The ambulance arrived within the hour and took a confused Alice to the local hospital with Rachel following in her car. The rest of the day passed by in a round of tests and a brain scan until finally, they received the news that she’d not suffered a stroke or a brain haemorrhage. Alice was relieved but still felt unwell. Thankfully, her speech had returned, if still a little slurred, enabling her to protest that she wanted to go home.
‘But, Mum you’re still very confused and I’m concerned about you. If you go home, you could worsen. Can you remember what you thought was happening this morning?’ Rachel’s tone was kind but firm.
‘I remember you telling me some ridiculous story about your dad being dead. I don’t know what’s going on with you, but I want to go home. Tom will probably be there by now, waiting for me.’
‘I’m sorry, but that proves you’re in no fit state to go home. I’m going to have a word with the sister and try to see the doctor about finding somewhere safe to help you get better.’ Rachel left the room and Alice sighed. She didn’t want to fall out with her daughter, but why was Rachel doing this and making up this fantasy about Tom? If Alice had the strength and didn’t feel so woolly-headed and disorientated, she would have discharged herself and got a taxi to take her home. However, not having her bag or any money with her, she was entirely in the hands of her daughter.
When Rachel returned, it was with the news that Alice was to be transferred to a ‘step down bed’ in a nursing home. Alice’s heart sank as if weighted with lead, but she acquiesced in the hope that Tom would soon come to find her, and this whole surreal situation would be over and relegated to history.
2
A slice of early morning sunlight fell across the bed, intruding into Alice’s dreams. Turning over under the warmth of the duvet and pulling it tighter around her was useless, as the tinny clatter of the cleaning trolley nudged her reluctantly into wakefulness. Suddenly Mavis was shaking her shoulder and the reality dawned on Alice that she was still an unwilling resident of The Elms – a nursing home – a place where people went to await death.