I’d been seeing Justin for a few months by the time the dance was held but I watched him for years. The boys’ school was next door to the girls’, and we could see them play hurling through gaps in the mesh that covered the fence. Justin was so handsome, broad shouldered with black hair and big brown eyes. He was fit too, and such a fine player. He wore his hair like Elvis and he was definitely the best looking boy on the team – and in the school, even in the whole town. I think I loved him long before I knew him. I definitely dreamt about him, probably from about the age of thirteen. I’m not even going to say what I dreamt we were doing but I always said a Hail Mary as penance as soon as I woke.

I was beautiful back then. Of course I didn’t know it, but looking back it makes me sad to think I didn’t embrace it while I could. My mother was a red head; my father once had a head of black hair, but that was gone by the time he was twenty-five. My brothers were all sandy and freckle--faced but I was like my mum – a traditionally red haired, pale skinned, green eyed girl. Even though I was tall and lean like my dad, I had a fine set of boobs on me and a good set of childbearing hips – at least that’s how my doctor described me during a check-up that left my mother red faced and fuming. I was fourteen at the time.

‘Don’t be listening to that man’s talk of boobs and bearing anything, do you hear me?’ she’d said as we left his office. I agreed I wouldn’t, but his comments stuck in my head.

The first day Justin and I talked, I came out of the shop with a bag of bullseye boiled sweets and he was leaning on a car bonnet outside, looking my way, saying, ‘Hello Catherine.’

Mary Mother of God. I thought I’d die there and then and I nearly did.

I tried to wave, utter the word ‘hello,’ and inhale all at the same time – causing the bullseye I’d popped into my mouth to shoot down my throat and stick halfway, immediately obstructing necessary airflow. I turned red as a beetroot and, with no air reaching my lungs, I started to choke to death, right there and then.

But Justin was fast on his feet and in a matter of seconds he was banging the back off me with his fist. As quick as lightening the bullseye flew out and hit the shop keeper’s dog in face. He barked fiercely and Justin stood between us, protecting me in case he pounced. To be fair he was a geriatric Jack Russell, but between the lack of oxygen and his heroism, I was swooning.