Pig Boy
Page 29
And a final thanks to my family, who tolerated me reading Bacon Busters magazines and speaking endlessly about the Bosnian War, a war that I watched whilst breastfeeding my children, which is perhaps why it resonates so deeply for me.
THE STORY OF TOM
BRENNAN
Read on for an extract from
J.C. Burke’s award winning novel
PROLOGUE At 4.30 am on Friday the 23rd of January, my father, Joseph Brennan, closed the front door of our home for the last time. Then gently, as we now had to be, he led my mother step by step to the car and helped her into the back seat. My sister Kylie and I followed, carrying the left-over bags and suitcases. No one spoke. Only the sounds of our feet shuffling along the concrete and my groan as I dumped the last of our belongings into the boot broke the near-dawn’s silence.
I waited by the bonnet for Dad to slip the handbrake off and give me the signal. I pushed our Ford Falcon station wagon out of the garage, past the ugly words that told us we were no longer wanted, and along the street.
When we reached the crest of ‘Daniel’s Whine’ – named after my brother, who hated climbing hills – I jumped in the front seat and Dad lifted his foot off the brake. Down, down we glided in silence.
The silhouettes of houses slipped past before I could catch them and remember the people we were leaving behind. In a couple of hours they would wake and find us gone, far away, so as not to remind them of their pain and what our family now meant to this town. My name is Tom Brennan and this is my story.