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
I need to say straight away that civilian support staff do an important and incredible job for the Met. You did an incredible job and you should be proud of everything you did to help coppers like me. But it’s not the same, Al, it’s really not and this is the bit I’ve been most scared about writing, but I just need to say it, nice and simple.
You aren’t a police officer. You were never a police officer.
I’m sorry, mate, but there it is. I know that while you were in hospital, a lot of people in there played along with the fantasy. Maybe they didn’t know it was a fantasy, I mean you’re an adult so why shouldn’t they believe what you tell them? Did they ever actually check? The police officers who came to the ward knew the truth, I’m fairly sure of that. The shrink working with them and the DI who made the arrest certainly did, but at any rate nobody ever seemed to contradict you or try to tell you that you were . . . Christ, I don’t know how to describe it. I don’t really want to say deluded, because that makes it sound like you weren’t suffering and I know you were. But it was a delusion and that’s all there is to it.
This next bit is difficult, too . . .
It feels like I’m ripping off a sticking plaster or something, but I need to do it.
Johnno was my partner and not yours. My partner, Al. I was the one who went with him to that flat in Mile End and I was the one who watched him bleed to death. I was the one who fucked up.
Yeah, I know Johnno was your friend too, and what happened to him obviously hit you very hard. Every bit as hard as it hit me, harder even, I know that now. I suppose that’s when all your problems started, the drink and the drugs, and that’s one of the reasons I feel bad telling you all this now, because it could so easily have been me that lost it and ended up the same as you.
Maybe that’s why I came to the hospital as often as I did. There but for the grace of God, all that.
I’ve been talking to the therapist I went to see after what happened to Johnno and she said this was a good idea. Me finally telling you everything, I mean. She told me that it might be painful, but that being honest would be better in the long run. For both of us, she said.