BooksBarbecue
Back Rabbit Hole
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

DONNA, aka The Walker. The fact that Donna makes L-Plate (who’s got a figure I would kill for) look a bit on the chunky side tells you all you need to know, really. Well, it doesn’t, of course. It doesn’t tell you why. If I knew what was actually going on in anyone’s head, I’d be the one with the Mercedes and the office at the end of the corridor. The truth is, I can only tell you about the oddballs I’m holed up with based on what they do and which meds they’re on. What they come out with.

Donna doesn’t actually come out with anything that you wouldn’t hear at the average bus stop or post-office queue, but you only need to look at her to see what’s wrong. What the wrongness has done to her, at any rate. You only need to watch her taking an eternity to cut a carrot into twenty pieces, push it around her plate for a while, then spend the next couple of hours walking furiously up and down the corridor to burn off the calories she hasn’t taken in. She wears a tracksuit all the time, like she’s in training for something.

She’s not the only patient who says she shouldn’t actually be here, but (not counting yours truly) Donna’s probably the only one who really shouldn’t. By rights, she should be in a proper eating-disorder clinic, but apparently they can’t find anywhere that’s got room for her. Ilias says it’s ridiculous, because it’s not like she takes up a lot of space.

She told me once she was from the south-west somewhere, but I can’t remember the name of the place. She’s got an accent, but it’s very soft like the rest of her. Her personality, I’m talking about. Her body’s all angles and pointy bits. She’s a gentle soul, wouldn’t say boo to a goose and never raises her voice, but it’s like she’s on the verge of tears all the time, so you have to tread a bit carefully with her. First time my dad saw her, he said she was like a ghost and I know what he was on about. She floats around the place like she’s haunting it, though I think he just meant that you could virtually see through her.

So, yeah, Donna walks. Morning, noon and night, wearing out the lino, and she won’t stop, even when she’s having a conversation. If you want to talk to her about anything, then you’d best be prepared for a half-marathon, which is ironic really, as I’ve never met anyone in more need of half a Marathon . . . and several Mars bars. Yeah, I know they’re called Snickers now, but the joke wouldn’t work, would it?