With legs made of rubber, I was moved by Justin to sit on the car bonnet. He rested his hand on my shoulder. I was wearing three layers including a duffle coat and I could still feel his strong grip.

JUSTIN O’HALLORAN IS TOUCHING ME!!! Holy Mary mother of God pray for me.

‘You all right?’ he said when my breathing stabilized enough to answer him.

‘Yes . . . Thanks . . . for saving my life,’ I stammered.

‘I did, didn’t I?’ he said. He grinned, then he leaned over and grabbed one of my bullseye boiled sweets out of the brown paper bag and popped it in his mouth. I thought that was really cool.

‘I’ve seen you before,’ he said.

‘I’ve seen you before too.’ Everyday since we were six.

‘Your name is Catherine Sullivan,’ he said.

I nodded, chuffed to bits he actually knew my name. JUSTIN O’ HALLORAN KNOWS MY NAME! Oh thank you Saint Jude of desperate cases and lost causes.

‘Your dad has a pig farm.’

I nodded shyly, embarrassed because his dad was a Judge.

‘I’m Justin O’Halloran,’ he said and he offered me his hand. ‘Nice to meet you,’ he said, and as our bare hands clasped a mind altering and stomach-churning electricity sparked between us.

I just couldn’t answer. I felt faint, my stomach was doing the cha-cha and I feared I’d gone and wet myself.

He walked me home just to be sure that I was OK. At the gate at the end of the lane that led to a long winding path, nestled between acres of fields and grazing pigs, we stood together and said our goodbyes.

‘Can we talk again?’ he asked.

I nodded so vigorously he laughed at me. I was embarrassed and felt a little silly.

‘OK then, come up to the mesh tomorrow after the match and we’ll talk.’

I nodded less enthusiastically, and then I was off, running down the long winding path. When I hit the farm yard, I navigated around pigs, even stopping to pet one or three of them.

‘Hello Marilyn Monroe, hello Neil Diamond, hello John Wayne.’

‘You look happy,’ Dad said, as he walked out of the shed with a large bucket of feed.

‘I am happy, Dad,’ I said and blew him a kiss like I’d seen Marilyn Monroe (the actress not the pig) do from the steps of a plane on my best friend Rose’s black and white TV.

He just laughed at me.

‘I don’t know where we got you from,’ he said.

I wasn’t really sure where they’d got me from either. No one had ever bothered to explain.

Reading Group Questions

Reading Group Questions

1. Every person in Rabbit’s family deals with her death differently. How do you think grief is explored in this novel?