Bitter pill, p.1
Bitter Pill, page 1
Copyright © 2024 A J Linney
The moral right of the author has been asserted.
Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Troubador Publishing Ltd
Unit E2 Airfield Business Park,
Harrison Road, Market Harborough,
Leicestershire LE16 7UL
Tel: 0116 279 2299
Email: books@troubador.co.uk
Web: www.troubador.co.uk
ISBN 9781805148920
British Library Cataloguing in Publication Data.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
For Kevan.
The love of my life, my best friend
You believed in me when I didn’t
Your love completes my soul.
Remembering
My Sister, Pamela
My Brother, Stephen
My Niece, Alison
You were all too young to leave us.
Contents
Part One
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-One
Part Two
Twenty-Two
Twenty-Three
Twenty-Four
Twenty-Five
Twenty-Six
Twenty-Seven
Twenty-Eight
Twenty-Nine
Thirty
Thirty-One
Thirty-Two
Thirty-Three
Thirty-Four
Epilogue
Acknowledgements
Part One
One
Lexie
14 March 2013
Lexie’s iPhone chimed a text message as she manoeuvred her Audi through traffic on the M40. No time for distraction, she thought, pushing her foot down to navigate through the volume of vehicles, while at the same time trying to avoid speed traps.
‘Oh, come on. Come on!’ she shouted at the drivers cruising in the middle lane. Accelerating into the outer lane, she gained enough momentum to pass them. Her team meeting was scheduled for three o’clock and her last appointment had overrun, thanks to Dr Chan, who’d kept her waiting until morning surgery finished. Some GPs irritated her with their sense of self-importance. Did they never consider her deadlines?
Their receptionists were worse, asserting their authority and making her wait. Normally she would meet with the whole practice and provide a deli lunch – bribe food, some would call it – but to Lexie, it meant sales. A personal touch was rare in today’s climate, but for Lexie it was essential to get the doctors on side, to push up her sales and meet her targets. The thought of lunch, or the lack of it, made her stomach growl. She’d eaten an orange and a yogurt for breakfast. There had not been time for lunch. The lack of food, combined with tension, had brought on a headache. Lexie reduced the volume on the radio.
Bruno Mars’ ‘Locked out of Heaven’ faded into the two o’clock news. The newsreader did little to improve her mood, droning on. She sighed, tapped a button on the steering wheel to power off the radio and located the message icon on her mobile, her attention wavering between the road and the screen, her curiosity conquering thoughts that she might be breaking the law by doing so.
Where are you? Three little words on the screen, seeming so innocuous.
She had not seen him since the row. She frowned, not wanting to think about that now. Reaching the A40, she headed towards Middlesex, massaging her brow as she went. A strong coffee might top up her caffeine level, but time was ticking, plus it wouldn’t help her pounding headache. She steered with one hand, while she reached across to the passenger seat and rummaged in the front pocket of her briefcase for a packet of ibuprofen. Her manicured, white-tipped fingernails skilfully popped out two tablets from the blister pack, one-handed, and popped them into her mouth. She lifted a bottle of Evian from the water holder and swallowed them with a shudder. Her nose wrinkled at the bitterness of the cheaper variety of drug she marketed to keep costs down. She wanted medical practices to use their budgets on innovative, more expensive drugs.
Ting! Ting!
Lexie glanced again at the screen, where a question mark had appeared. Oliver would have to wait. Her schedule was too tight for interruptions.
When Lexie pulled into the car park at the headquarters of RestrilPharma, she breathed a sigh of relief and turned off the engine. She slipped on her suit jacket, grabbed her Tuscan saffiano leather laptop bag and locked the car.
She sprinted across the car park, despite her high heels, dodging the puddles from the earlier rainfall. Rounding the corner towards the tinted glass façade of the pharmaceutical offices, she climbed the steps and hurried through the main doors.
At reception, Lexie flashed her identity badge to a portly man leaning over the desk, conversing with a woman, whose long acrylic fingernails were pointing to a clipboard. He glanced up, nodded and resumed his business. Lexie passed them and boarded the lift, staring at the highlighted buttons, willing it to climb faster. As she approached the top floor, she wondered if Julian would be attending. She glanced at her watch: 2.50. Time for a quick refresh in the restrooms before meeting the delegates.
*
Two hours later, and much less stressed, Lexie was happy to be finished. It had been a successful meeting, albeit brain draining, and she couldn’t wait to get home. She was glad to learn she’d remained top distributor in her area, and her performance – and her bonuses – were well above the averages of other reps. The company continued to shine in the marketplace, and it felt good to be a significant part of its success. Her expression softened as she made her way out through the double doors of the meeting room and headed across the plush-carpeted landing to the lifts. Her sales figures had exceeded even her own expectations. Lexie always pushed herself to improve her personal targets in the rapidly advancing industry, even if it meant sacrificing her social life.
‘Congratulations, Lex.’ Her rival, Sebastian, joined her at the lifts. ‘On track for the promotion, eh?’ He said it through gritted teeth, reminding her of Basil Fawlty. It pleased her immensely.
‘You know I deserve it.’ The corners of her mouth lifted. She stepped into the empty lift, and he followed. ‘I must say, you didn’t contribute much to the meeting today.’
‘My area won’t always be behind yours, don’t you worry.’
‘Believe me, I won’t.’
‘I see Julian’s in China with Amelia? You know, the redhead with the big…?’ He held cupped hands in front of his chest. ‘She’s really flying high, don’t you think?’
Lexie smiled to herself. ‘Clearly not high enough.’
‘Difficult for him to concentrate on work when she’s around.’
‘And that’s precisely why I’m still top in sales. Boys will be boys, eh?’ Lexie raised a mocking brow and left Sebastian open-mouthed as she got out. Despite her confident retort, he had hit a nerve, though it wasn’t enough to put a dampener on her mood.
Back in her car, Lexie put her bags on the passenger seat, relaxed and puffed out her cheeks. She’d planned a quick visit to the gym, but today she needed extra motivation. Exercise was a long way from her mind.
Her thoughts drifted to Oliver. Tucking her hair behind her ear, she reached for her phone, took a deep breath and tapped his contact details.
‘You’re through to Oliver,’ his smooth voice announced on the answering service. Lexie ended the call, tossed the phone into her handbag and pushed the car key in the ignition. As she reversed, the phone rang.
‘Shit!’ she said aloud, braking and fumbling in her bag to grab it.
‘Lexie?’ said Oliver. ‘Sorry I missed you. I was on voicemail.’
‘No, I’m sorry for not leaving a message. I couldn’t speak earlier because I was running late for a meeting.’ The excuse sounded feeble, even to her own ears. She could have sent a text.
‘No apology required. I figured you were with a client or something. You OK?’
Lexie wished he’d come to the point. ‘Fine, and you?’
‘Good, thanks. But you sound tense, Lex. Are you sure you’re OK?’
‘Yeah. Long day, Oli, that’s all.’ There was a pause and Lexie resisted the urge to fill the silence.
Lexie squeezed her eyelids shut. She was not ready for this.
‘I’m just leaving Brentford and—’
‘Look, Lex, have you got plans or not? It’s a simple question, let’s not waste time on trivialities.’
‘As I said, I’ve had a long day and—’
‘You’ve no plans then? Right, I can meet you en route, in Woodstock maybe, and we can have dinner?’ He said this with the same air of authority he used in his military job. ‘You still need food however busy you are. Woodstock then?’
‘Where and what time?’
‘The Ivy Bridge? I’ll be waiting.’
Lexie was too tired to protest, and it was too late now, she’d agreed. The whole situation was just so awkward…
Two
Pippa
Pippa’s fingers flicked through her medical repertory as she researched remedies for an elderly man who was presenting with long-term chest problems. She noted down some of the recommended ones in the margin of his notes but remained unconvinced they’d hit the mark.
This client’s symptoms troubled her, and gut instinct told her she needed a different prescription. Unsatisfied, she tucked the folder into her briefcase so she could continue later at home.
She checked her Moleskine diary for the next appointment before glancing at the clock: five minutes to go. Enough time for a drink, she thought, standing and stretching out her tense muscles.
Pulling a cup from the dispenser, she filled it with water and drank. The chill hit her stomach and instantly refreshed her. Pippa disposed of the cup and crossed to the filing cabinet.
The morning clinic was busy; time was flying by. So far, in addition to the previous patient, she’d seen two follow-ups: a middle-aged woman experiencing frequent migraines and a teenage boy suffering extreme anxiety. Both had improved. A young lady expecting twins, wanting to go over her birthing plan, had been next. Then a new case, a man who’d been referred with drug and alcohol problems.
The diversity in clients’ conditions certainly meant Pippa’s professional routine was never boring or predictable.
She selected the final set of notes from the drawer, scanned the paperwork and opened the door to the waiting room.
‘Mrs Jenkins?’
A tired-looking woman nodded and stood, pulling a young boy to his feet. Pippa showed them through to her office.
‘Take a seat.’ She motioned to a chair beside a small table, on which stood a vase of mixed daffodils, a square box of tissues and a plastic stand of leaflets.
‘Hello, Charles.’ Pippa smiled reassuringly.
The boy remained silent and trailed behind his mother, clinging to her coat. Pippa waited for her to be seated and sat opposite them. The room was decorated in pastel shades, easy on the eye, creating a welcoming ambience.
‘I’m sorry. He’s so shy,’ blurted the woman. He buried his face deeper into the folds of cloth while she stroked his hair. ‘It doesn’t help that he’s tired. He’s not sleeping because of this cough.’ A red flush crept up her neck. ‘He’s got two inhalers now, but they’re not doing anything,’ she said, hoisting Charles onto her lap. ‘I’m worried about his poor chest, but the doctor said it’s an asthmatic cough and steroids are the way forward.’ She sighed, lifting her palms in defeat. ‘So, when I was telling one of the mothers at the nursery how dissatisfied I was, she recommended I come to you.’ The mother spoke so fast, she barely paused for breath. Her hand rubbed the boy’s leg erratically. Pippa wondered if she needed a prescription too.
‘Do you know much about homeopathy?’ Pippa asked in a soft voice.
‘Not really, but I’ve seen her girl’s eczema improve since she’s been coming here. So I thought I’d give it a try for Charles. I’m getting desperate.’ She blinked rapidly and her cheeks flushed. ‘I mean… Oh, that didn’t sound right at all.’
‘It’s when most people do come, either out of desperation or with long-term disease. Hopefully, we’ll soon have Charles feeling better, won’t we?’ said Pippa, tapping the back of Charles’s hand and smiling warmly.
He jerked his arm away, towards his mother.
‘I’m sorry.’ More blotches appeared on her neck as she soothed him.
‘Don’t be.’ Pippa sat back to create a comfortable distance. ‘Now, I received your form, so we’ll go over this together first if that’s OK?’ Mrs Jenkins nodded.
‘You may wonder why I ask certain unrelated questions, such as Charles’s favourite foods for instance. This is to build what we homeopaths call a “constitutional picture”. And that’s because everyone is unique, which affects what we prescribe.’ Pippa saw her brow wrinkle. ‘It means I can home in on what the best treatment for your son may be. Feel free to ask any questions. Would you like a glass of water before we start?’
‘No thanks, we’re fine.’
‘First I’ll go over what to expect.’ Pippa reached forward to select a pamphlet. ‘And you might like to take this to give you some background, if you fancy a read later,’ she said, handing it over.
‘Thank you, I will.’
‘Right, let’s work through these questions, and then I’ll go through a treatment plan with you.’
*
By late afternoon, as Pippa was writing up her final notes for the day, Sandy, the practice’s osteopath, knocked on the door and she peered into the room.
‘Sorry to disturb you, Pippa. Gillian’s daughter, Debbie, phoned and asked – well more like demanded – to speak to you.’ Sandy leaned against the doorframe and folded her arms. ‘She wasn’t happy and started questioning me. I told her I’m not her mother’s therapist and Gillian’s not my patient and even if she was, I wouldn’t be able to talk because of patient confidentiality.’ Sandy shook her head, causing her curly auburn ponytail to swish from side to side. ‘She wasn’t having any of it. She sounded irate and wanted me to fetch you. I apologised and told her you were with a client. I said I’d pass on the message.’
‘Did she say why she was so upset?’
‘Something about her mother refusing chemotherapy. Gillian’s been admitted again.’
‘I’ll call her before I leave. Are you off now?’
‘Yeah, my turn to do the school run today. His Lordship is working late. Do you want me to grab Alexander when I pick up the twins in case you have to call in on Gillian?’
‘It should be fine, thanks. I’ll call you, though, if I’m going to be late. Will that be all right?’ Pippa knew Gillian wouldn’t want her to drop everything to go to the hospital, but she wanted to see her. ‘If you don’t mind, I could leave him with you later for an hour?’
‘Whatever suits. Better get going. Catch you later.’
Pippa sat back and twisted a copper ringlet around her finger, wondering about Gillian. She sighed as she stood up to clear her desk, mentally preparing herself for another altercation with Debbie.
Three
Lexie
Lexie approached Oliver, who was perched on a bar stool, sipping a pint of Guinness. He put her in mind of the man in the Diet Coke advert: lean, toned and handsome. He rose to greet her, giving her a peck on the cheek.
‘I see you already ordered,’ said Lexie, accepting the gin and tonic he handed to her. He raised an eyebrow and grinned. ‘I saw you arrive, so I was ready.’
‘Mm, just what I needed.’ She took a long sip, enjoying the light, refreshing tang on her taste buds.
‘Shall we move over there?’ Oliver pointed to the lounge area, defined by heavy damask curtains on thick wooden poles and soft lighting from bold-coloured lamps. ‘The suite beneath the window looks comfy.’
Lexie turned to look and nodded. She took the lead to the oxblood chesterfield, positioned by a low mahogany table. Choosing the single armchair by it, she set her drink down and slipped off her Jimmy Choos.
‘What a relief to kick those off,’ she said, massaging her toes, relaxing back into the seat. The ambience soothed her mind.
Oliver folded his tall frame onto the firm leather of the two-seater.
