The Father

John Nicholl

Description

'A dark and devastating story that grips you from the very first page' T. J. Emerson, author of The Perfect Holiday.

What you don’t know can hurt you.

Thirty years ago Anthony Mailer was a seven-year-old boy trapped in Dr Galbraith’s basement. Now he’s a journalist, a husband and a father. But no matter how far he’s come, at times he’s still that scared little boy.

In order to save his marriage, he has to stop hiding from what happened and deal with it once and for all.

But digging into the past holds dangers Anthony never imagined . . .

A note from the author: While fictional, this book was inspired by true events. It draws on the author’s experiences as a police officer and child protection social worker. The story contains content that some readers may find upsetting. It is dedicated to survivors everywhere.

________

What people are saying about The Father:

'The chill is tangible' Owen Mullen

'Dark, disturbing, and brilliant. Kept me up all night!' Diana Wilkinson

'A frightening book that lures us into the darkness where monsters live. John Nicholl's knowledge of this world from his years of police work makes his characters ring true' Billy Hayes

'An emotional roller coaster...I couldn't stop reading until I reached the end' McGarvey Black

'Dark and disturbing. One to really get your pulse racing. This is a story you won't forget' Ross Greenwood

‘An outstanding piece of work by a truly masterful storyteller’ Anita Waller
'Disturbing and gripping . . . John Nicholl’s experience of police and child protection work adds truth and reality to Anthony’s search for closure' Phil Rowlands

Sujets

• Policier & Thriller
• Policier
• Thriller
• Vie de famille
• Parentalité et Éducation des Enfants
• Soutien psychologique et conseils familiaux
• Abductions
• Mashups
• Psychological
• Medical
• Thrillers
• Coming of Age
• Suspenso
• Psychological thriller
• Domestic
• True crime
• General officer
• Parenting
• Psychology
• Medicine
• General
• Crime
• Family Life
• Abuse
• Suspense
• Noir
• Fiction

Informations

• Publié par: Boldwood Books
• Date de parution: 20 septembre 2022
• Nombre de lectures: 1
• EAN13: 9781804263563
• Langue: English

Extrait

THE FATHER
BOOK 3 IN THE GALBRAITH SERIES


JOHN NICHOLL
CONTENTS



A Note to the Reader


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

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29


Acknowledgments

More from John Nicholl

About the Author

About Boldwood Books
A NOTE TO THE READER

While fictional, this book was inspired by true events. It draws on the author’s experiences as a police officer and child protection social worker. The story contains content that some readers may find upsetting. It is dedicated to survivors everywhere.
1

We have the capacity for such creative beauty but also such unspeakable horror. I suspect I know that at least as well as most. It’s a sad reality I can’t deny, however much I’d like to eradicate certain aspects of my past.
I’m an adult now, Mr Anthony Mailer, or Tony, as I’m known to friends and family. A thirty-seven-year-old husband and father of one, a reasonably successful journalist living in rural west Wales, close to an estuary beach, a fifteen-minute drive from town. But I was a child when my story began. A seven-year-old boy growing up in an ordinary family in a beautiful land. But danger lurked in the most unexpected places.
I encountered a monster, a predator who hid not in darkness, but in plain sight. Appearances can be so very deceptive. If only such men came with a warning branded on their foreheads: danger, beware, don’t come near, stay away!
Even uttering my tormentor’s name is something of a challenge. Dr David Galbraith still dominates my life in many ways, even though I haven’t seen him since childhood. Does that sound ridiculous to you? Can you make any sense of this statement? Well, yes or no, as crazy as it may seem to some, it’s true. Galbraith’s name may mean nothing to you, but it means so very much to me. He was my doctor, a supposed therapist – a consultant child psychiatrist, no less – and a deviant who targeted, groomed and assaulted his young patients at will. He helped some, keeping up the façade of apparent respectability, but offended against others, preadolescent boys who fitted his victim profile, as I did. He hid his true nature from the world because it suited him to do so. And he hid it well. He was liked, respected, seen as a pillar of the community, someone to look up to, revered. But I knew him as only a survivor can know him. There is nothing good to say about that man. I feel anger, I feel hate, and sadness too. Galbraith was a creature devoid of sympathy or goodness; a sadistic, psychopathic criminal of the worst possible kind. I want readers to know that right from the very start. It’s the foundation of my story, the basis of all that comes next.
Galbraith still haunts me after all this time. I guess time doesn’t heal all wounds. It may do for some, but it certainly hasn’t for me. He visits me often in my weaker moments, when my mind wanders back in time, or I lie awake at night, falling in and out of fitful sleep until dawn’s welcome light drives away the sound and sight of him. But he always comes back. He’s there somewhere in the near distance, even in my happier times, when I’m relaxing with friends and family, watching television, listening to music, reading a favourite book, or sitting in the sun.
I’m an adult now, but I mourn for the boy I knew. I feel sad about his lost childhood. I have a loving, intelligent, beautiful wife, a healthy, full-of-life daughter of my own, a comfortable home, and a well-paying job, all the trappings of a seemingly successful life. Anyone looking in may think I have it made, that I’m living the dream. But first impressions can be notoriously deceptive. Even all of those bright, shiny things aren’t sufficient to send the past to oblivion. The symptoms of post-traumatic stress are still a feature of my life, the flashbacks too regular, the nightmares too real, my overprotective tendencies often at the forefront of my mind. I experience wild mood swings, sometimes when I least expect them. The black dog of depression visits all too often. I worry about my daughter’s safety to such an extent that it sometimes negatively affects her life. And I drink too much, one skull-splitting hangover after another. A day rarely passes without a drink or two to numb my troubled mind. And so, things need to change. If they don’t, Galbraith will have won. And that’s something I can’t let happen. He’s taunted me for long enough. It’s time to make it stop.



Writing this book is my attempt to make sense of my past, to understand the events that have shaped my life, and, to some extent, made me the man I am.
Writing is an exorcism of sorts, a prolonged therapeutic exercise that I hope will prove healing. I plan to tell my story with brutal honesty. If I’m going to do this, if it’s going to mean something, I have to bare my soul. And everything I’m going to tell you is accurate. I know, I lived it, I was there. I accept the telling won’t be easy, but nightmares thrive in darkness. I’ve tried hiding from the events of those dark days for thirty long years. I’ve tried pushing the memories from my mind time and again without success. There’s no room for denial. I have to face what happened, up close and personal.
And so, I’ll tell my story, I’ll shine a light on the worst times of my life. And in doing so, I hope to feel better. I hope I find the solace I so desperately crave, both for my sake and that of my wife and child. I’m not an easy person to live with; that’s the truth of it. There’s only so much people can put up with, however much they love you.
But this isn’t just my story. I’ve worked hard in preparation for the telling. I’ve undertaken extensive research before reaching this point. It’s something I’m good at, a skill I’ve honed over years in my professional role for one newspaper or another. My story won’t all be based on faded childhood memories. Others were involved, many were affected. It’s their story too. I’ve read and watched the various news reports relevant to the case. I’ve interviewed the key professionals, or at least those who agreed to talk. I’ve spoken with Galbraith’s ex-wife. I’ve even spoken to a convicted sex offender who knew the  real  Galbraith. And I’ve discussed events with my family – my mother, Molly, my father, Mike, and my big sister, Siân. All three thought this endeavour unwise at first, and to a degree, they still do. But they’ve come to realise my writing is something that can’t be avoided. Whether they’ll read the book if published, I can’t say. That has to be their decision, and not mine. Only they can decide. And that applies to you too. The book will contain content that some readers may find disturbing. There’s no avoiding that reality. What happened, happened. It’s the nature of the subject matter. So, please bear that in mind as you turn the pages.



The available media reports gave me the basics of the story in addition to my memories, but the interviews provided the detail. Revelations that were at times both shocking and traumatic. Now all I have to do is outline the results of my research in a logical, sequential order. In doing that, a picture should emerge. And along with the picture will come a clarity that I hope proves cathartic. So here we go, buckle up. It’s going to be a bumpy ride.
2

Even at this early stage, the writing process is proving more challenging than I imagined. Committing words to paper somehow makes what happened seem all the more real. That may seem ridiculous to some, but it’s true. I knew the writing would be demanding, but not this demanding. I worry the process cements memories that a part of me still fears were best left in the past.
After a few drinks, I came close to deleting the manuscript entirely. But after a lengthy, and at times, somewhat heated discussion with my wife, I finally decided to continue for all the reasons that I started in the first place. Nicola – that’s my wife’s name – has become increasingly frustrated by my prevarication and inconsistency. I think she may see this project as my last chance to save our relationship. She hasn’t actually said that, not in so many words, but there’s a growing distance between us that tells its own story. Nicola cried during our conversation, silent tears staining her pretty features, her eyes reddening, the tell-tale signs of stress changing the contours of her face. I’d spent many weeks telling her why this book was of crucial importance, persuading her to that end, asking for her patience and support, which she readily offered, as is her nature. And then there I was, contradicting my impassioned arguments. I can understand her frustration. Why wouldn’t she be agitated? Why wouldn’t she be exasperated? Amazingly, she hasn’t given up on me altogether. At one point, Nicola even knelt at my feet as I sat on the sofa. That made me feel so very uncomfortable, realising the depth of her feelings, knowing I’d let her down. She placed an open hand on each of my knees, looking up into my eyes, pleading with me to see through what I’d started. I’d never seen her so passionate, never so desperate, and it touched my heart, giving me the strength to carry on.
‘You  have  to defeat your demons, Anthony, for you, for me, and for our little girl.’
I averted my eyes to the wall, nodding once as she continued.
‘You’ve told me that the writing of this book is the only way you’re ever going to find peace. You’ve said little else for weeks on end. And I’ve listened, I’ve taken you seriously, finally accepting your arguments.’
She increased her grip, digging in her nails, grabbing my attention.
‘And now, when you’ve final