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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

‘Sitting in on a water-boarding session next week, are you?’

TWENTY

TWENTY

I was still in a fairly arsey mood after lunch and post-lunch meds. Trudging towards the music room, I noticed Tony sitting patiently by the airlock with his bags, as likely to be leaving any time soon – courtesy of his non-existent American relatives – as I was. He waved but I couldn’t be bothered waving back.

Ilias was already in there playing Connect Four with himself and ignored me when I took off my headphones and asked if he wouldn’t mind buggering off. I tried asking a bit more politely, but that didn’t work either. Even five minutes of me bashing the living shit out of the bongos didn’t shift him, but at least he wasn’t showing too much inclination to chat, so I gave up and sat there.

Alone, thankfully, or as good as.

It was all stupidly unfair, because so much of what I’d told Bakshi and the rest of them about Andy was true. He was still angry, I knew he was, and he is obsessed with me. Oh, and I certainly wasn’t making it up when I said he sometimes liked to get a bit rough in bed; the fact that I didn’t actually mind is neither here nor there.

The sad truth is that, right then – six and a bit weeks without so much as a snog – I’d have settled for action of any sort. Rough or smooth, kinky or vanilla. There probably wasn’t a bloke in there I hadn’t thought about that way at some point. Tony, Marcus . . . even the hairy little bastard who was playing games with himself in the corner, God help me.

A cuddle would have been nicest of all, though.

Andy had been good at that, once upon a time.

There was a knock, and when I looked up my dad was standing with Femi outside the door. He smiled and started waving at me through the glass like I hadn’t seen him (which I obviously had) or might not remember who he was (which had happened the first time he’d visited).

Femi opened the door and my dad came in.

I stood up when he was halfway to me, that big lolloping walk, and he pulled me into his chest as soon as I was within range.

Yeah, a cuddle was good.

‘Hello, you,’ he said.

As he was taking off his coat, I saw him clock Ilias in the corner before he looked at me and grimaced. I shook my head to let him know it wasn’t a problem, that this was as private as we were likely to get.

‘So, how you feeling, love?’ He sat down.

He asked the question with a little more sincerity than Dr Bakshi had done a few hours earlier, which was nice.

‘Where’s Mum?’