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Back Rabbit Hole Save as PDF
Chapters (73)
  1. Rabbit Hole
  2. Also by Mark Billingham
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. Epigraph
  7. Preface
  8. PART ONE
  9. ONE
  10. TWO
  11. THREE
  12. FOUR
  13. FIVE
  14. SIX
  15. SEVEN
  16. EIGHT
  17. NINE
  18. TEN
  19. ELEVEN
  20. TWELVE
  21. THIRTEEN
  22. FOURTEEN
  23. FIFTEEN
  24. SIXTEEN
  25. SEVENTEEN
  26. EIGHTEEN
  27. NINETEEN
  28. TWENTY
  29. TWENTY-ONE
  30. TWENTY-TWO
  31. TWENTY-THREE
  32. TWENTY-FOUR
  33. TWENTY-FIVE
  34. TWENTY-SIX
  35. TWENTY-SEVEN
  36. TWENTY-EIGHT
  37. TWENTY-NINE
  38. THIRTY
  39. THIRTY-ONE
  40. THIRTY-TWO
  41. THIRTY-THREE
  42. PART TWO
  43. THIRTY-FOUR
  44. THIRTY-FIVE
  45. THIRTY-SIX
  46. THIRTY-SEVEN
  47. THIRTY-EIGHT
  48. THIRTY-NINE
  49. FORTY
  50. FORTY-ONE
  51. FORTY-TWO
  52. FORTY-THREE
  53. FORTY-FOUR
  54. FORTY-FIVE
  55. FORTY-SIX
  56. FORTY-SEVEN
  57. FORTY-EIGHT
  58. FORTY-NINE
  59. FIFTY
  60. FIFTY-ONE
  61. FIFTY-TWO
  62. FIFTY-THREE
  63. FIFTY-FOUR
  64. FIFTY-FIVE
  65. FIFTY-SIX
  66. FIFTY-SEVEN
  67. FIFTY-EIGHT
  68. PART THREE
  69. FIFTY-NINE
  70. SIXTY
  71. EPILOGUE
  72. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  73. Back Cover

I told him I understood perfectly and leaned across to give Femi a hug.

‘She’ll be good,’ Femi said. ‘Won’t you?’

Half an hour later, when I opened my bedroom door again, Femi was sitting outside, smiling at me. Half an hour after that, she was still there and, this time, she didn’t even bother looking up from her magazine. I told her she was an ugly bitch and slammed my door and shouted for a while, but I knew she wasn’t going anywhere.

I didn’t sleep much for the rest of the night, but I didn’t try and leave my room again.

It wasn’t a big deal, because I’d seen what I needed to. I’d put a word in where it mattered, I’d made myself known. I kicked off the duvet and lay awake thinking about Kevin and my ex-partner Johnno and about knives twisting in bellies. I closed my eyes and tried to imagine what it would feel like to be the knife. Sliding and turning, hard and sharp and wet.

I knew that, by the morning, Kevin’s bedroom would be sealed off and that the staff would be doing their best to get things back to normal. Ilias, Lauren and the rest of the gang would be mooching around, curious, but none the wiser. I knew that the crime-scene tape would have been taken down and any crucial evidence logged and locked away. I knew that the homicide team would be gone.

It was cool, though. It was all good.

Because I knew they’d be back.

SIX

SIX

Say what you like about Fleet Ward – and trust me, I’ve got plenty to say on the subject – but it puts most other places to shame when it comes to the variety of its breakfast menu. Just a picturesque fifteen-second totter from dining room to meds hatch gives all customers the option to start their day with a cheeky benzodiazepine after tucking into their Frosties. Or, you might prefer an artisanal Selective Serotonin Reuptake Inhibitor – which perfectly complements lighter ‘fayre’ such as fruit or pastries (currently unavailable) – or even, for those with a somewhat more unusual perspective, a custom-crafted anti-psychotic, designed to follow a full English that’s guaranteed to put hair on your chest and take ten years off your life-expectancy.

There’s even a mixture of ‘desserts’ for a few select occupants with more complicated demands. Uppers, downers, mood-stabilisers . . . whatever the customer requires or their consultant prescribes. Take it from someone who knows, if you’re not overly bothered about décor or service, this is the place to be. Reservations are not required, but it’s always busy, and if happy pills and botulism are what you’re into, the Fleet caters for all tastes and conditions.

It helps if you’re bonkers, obvs.