Chapters (73)
- Rabbit Hole
- Also by Mark Billingham
- Title Page
- Copyright
- Dedication
- Epigraph
- Preface
- PART ONE
- ONE
- TWO
- THREE
- FOUR
- FIVE
- SIX
- SEVEN
- EIGHT
- NINE
- TEN
- ELEVEN
- TWELVE
- THIRTEEN
- FOURTEEN
- FIFTEEN
- SIXTEEN
- SEVENTEEN
- EIGHTEEN
- NINETEEN
- TWENTY
- TWENTY-ONE
- TWENTY-TWO
- TWENTY-THREE
- TWENTY-FOUR
- TWENTY-FIVE
- TWENTY-SIX
- TWENTY-SEVEN
- TWENTY-EIGHT
- TWENTY-NINE
- THIRTY
- THIRTY-ONE
- THIRTY-TWO
- THIRTY-THREE
- PART TWO
- THIRTY-FOUR
- THIRTY-FIVE
- THIRTY-SIX
- THIRTY-SEVEN
- THIRTY-EIGHT
- THIRTY-NINE
- FORTY
- FORTY-ONE
- FORTY-TWO
- FORTY-THREE
- FORTY-FOUR
- FORTY-FIVE
- FORTY-SIX
- FORTY-SEVEN
- FORTY-EIGHT
- FORTY-NINE
- FIFTY
- FIFTY-ONE
- FIFTY-TWO
- FIFTY-THREE
- FIFTY-FOUR
- FIFTY-FIVE
- FIFTY-SIX
- FIFTY-SEVEN
- FIFTY-EIGHT
- PART THREE
- FIFTY-NINE
- SIXTY
- EPILOGUE
- ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
- Back Cover
The other thing you should know is that Shaun can be a bit needy. Almost every day, he’ll come up to you more than once and point to some tiny blemish on his chin – a spot or whatever – and ask, ‘Am I going to die, am I going to die, am I going to die?’ Once he’s been reassured that he’s not likely to pop off any time soon he’s right as ninepence, but half an hour later, he’ll be panic-stricken and asking you again. I mean, my mum’s a bit of a hypochondriac, but that’s ridiculous.
He’s not daft though, I really don’t mean that, and he’s probably the person I’ve had the nicest conversations with . . . the most normal conversations. He’s pretty bloody lovely as a matter of fact, but he was very angry for a while after what happened to Kevin. They were close, those two, I might as well tell you that. I’d thought they were just mates, until one lunchtime when I saw Shaun with his hand on Kevin’s cock under the table in the dining room, so I suppose it’s understandable that he was a bit upset. He hasn’t stopped being upset, actually. He still cries, a lot.
TONY, aka The Thing. Now, the thing you need to remember about The Thing is that he isn’t actually the Thing. He’s just called The Thing because the Thing is the thing he’s obsessed with. The Thing is what scares him to death twenty-four hours a day. The Thing is . . . his thing. You also need to bear in mind that Tony is what a lot of people would think of as seriously scary himself. He’s a massive bloke from Croydon who looks like Anthony Joshua, if Anthony let himself go a bit. I’m telling you, he’s built like a brick shithouse, but just the mention of the Thing . . . seriously, just one malicious whisper of the name . . . is enough to reduce him to a gibbering wreck. Screaming, trying to climb out of the nearest window, the full works. So . . . the Thing – according to the World of Tony – is an evil entity of some sort that, for reasons none of us can or particularly want to understand, is trying to kill him and – here’s the crucial bit – has the special power to transform itself into anything it wants. Anything or anyone. The Thing could be me, then the next day it might be one of the staff. Or a dog, or a daddy-long-legs, or a pair of shoes. The Thing is a hugely powerful and endlessly cunning shape-shifter.