From The Top Sally Flynn

MÉABH COLLINS is a writer from Dublin. She holds an M.Phil in

Children’s Literature from Trinity College Dublin, where she is currently

pursuing a PhD in English Literature. In recent years, she has worked as a

primary school teacher and in children’s and Irish-language publishing. She

lives in Dublin with her family and their well-dressed rescue greyhound. Her first novel, Freya Harte is Not a Puzzle, was the winner of the 2024 Library

Association of Ireland Great Reads Awards ( Junior Category). It was also a One County, One Book title in 2024.

Méabh Collins

First published 2026 by The O’Brien Press Ltd, 12 Terenure Road East, Rathgar, Dublin 6, D06 HD27, Ireland.

Tel: +353 1 4923333; E-mail: books@obrien.ie; Website: obrien.ie The O’Brien Press is a member of Publishing Ireland.

ISBN: 978-1-78849-602-5 Text © Méabh Collins 2026 The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

Editing, design and layout © The O’Brien Press 2026 Cover and text design by Emma Byrne Cover illustration by Cătălina Ometiță-Dragoș All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or utilised in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including for text and data mining, training artificial intelligence systems, photocopying, recording or in any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

87654321 30 29 28 27 26 Printed and bound by CPI Group (UK) Ltd, Croydon, CR0 4YY using 100% renewable electricity.

To the best of our knowledge, this book complies in full with the requirements of the General Product Safety Regulation (GPSR).

For further information and help with any safety queries, please contact us at productsafety@obrien.ie.

Published in

The O’Brien Press received financial assistance from the Arts Council to publish this title.

I ndilchuimhne ar mo mháthair, Mairéad.

PROLOGUE

I

don’t like when death is described as an event. I know ‘event’

just means a thing that happens, but when you search the word

online, ads for concerts, plays, exhibitions – things to do around Dublin – show up. That’s because the word ‘event’ usually means

something exciting or entertaining; something to book tickets

for and look forward to. Not really what you think about when

you think about someone dying, is it? But ‘event’ is how death was described in the life insurance leaflet I found in Dad’s pocket

a few years ago. It gave the impression that something inter-

esting or memorable would happen when Mum died. Clouds

parting, angels singing, sunshine streaming through the window.

I don’t know; something more than silence and paperwork.

I don’t remember much about Mum’s funeral (I was only nine),

except that it was more of an ‘event’ than the moment she died: people were dressed up, there was music. Obviously, it wasn’t an event I wanted to be at, but at least it was an event in the usual sense of the word.

My one job at the funeral was to place Mum’s old Kermit the

Frog doll next to the other symbols of her life at the altar. Other relatives had already placed a flute, hockey stick and cake stand

on the display table. Kermit was the last addition. A cellist played 7

from the top sally flynn ’

a sombre piece of music as Dad walked us up the aisle so slowly

it felt like we were wading through treacle. All around us I could hear sniffling and little gasps of breath. I suppose the crowd found it poignant: Lydia Maybury’s only child (me) placing her beloved childhood toy at the altar in her memory. And it might have been poignant, if Lydia Maybury’s beloved childhood toy hadn’t almost gone up in flames in the process.

It’s important to clarify that what happened wasn’t my fault.

Actually, I’m the hero of the story. After I set Kermit down

and turned to go back to my seat, Mum’s hockey stick, which

had been leaning against the display table, slid over and hit the marble floor of the altar with a loud thud. The priest hurried

over to pick it up, but when he set it down again, he accidentally shoved Kermit into a nearby wreath with a candle in it. He didn’t

even notice! I shrieked and ran to save Kermit, bravely wrench-

ing him from the flames and stomping up and down on him until I was sure the fire was out.

‘He’s OK!’ I declared breathlessly to the crowd, holding Kermit

up for everyone to see. ‘Kermit’s going to make it!’

I heard Granny groan from the pew. Then Dad hurried over

and yanked me by the elbow. ‘Come on, Sal, pop Kermit down and let’s go back to our seats.’

But I couldn’t abandon Kermit after what had just happened.

This was Mum’s beloved childhood toy; I had to protect him!

‘Come on, Sal,’ Dad said again, his eyes pleading with me not 8

from the top sally flynn ’

to make a scene. He tried to take Kermit from me, but I shook my head in protest. He sighed. ‘Fine. Let’s just sit down.’

And so we did. There in the church, on a wooden pew next to

Dad and Granny, I stared at the stiff-limbed doll in my hands.

Rough to touch and balding from old age, he stared back at me

with giant, goggly eyes. I tenderly rubbed the brown spot on his felt belly where the candle had singed him. You and me, Kermit, I thought to myself. You and me. And so began our journey.

9

CHAPTER 1

‘W

hat about “Fringes of My Heart”?’ Ethan says. ‘I think it

has big I-Want song energy.’

‘Not bad,’ I say, making a courtesy note in the back of my

school journal.

‘Oh, come on! It’s better than anything else we’ve come up

with.’

I close over my journal. ‘Ethan, the I-Want song is the most

important number in a musical. It’s the first one you look up after you leave the theatre; the one they use in all the promo. It has to make a big impression – even the title.’

‘Well, I think it works. I can already picture the lead character

clutching their chest and singing passionately to the audience about their deepest desire. It practically writes itself !’

‘And that’s why I put it in the “Maybe” section.’

Ethan rolls his eyes. ‘What do you think, Niall?’

Niall looks up from his lunchbox. ‘What? I zoned out. Are

you guys still talking about your fake musical?’

‘Imaginary musical,’ I correct.

Niall sighs. ‘You play this game every lunchtime. Can we

please talk about something else?’

‘But we haven’t even come up with half the song titles!’ I say.

10

from the top sally flynn ’

‘Niall’s right,’ Ethan says. ‘It was funny for a minute, but we’ve

probably overdone it at this stage.’

‘What else is there to talk about?’ I say.

‘Ancient Greece?’ Niall suggests.

‘No,’ I reply firmly.

‘Fine. TikTok. TV shows. Teachers. Literally anything besides

musicals.’

‘As if anything is more interesting than musicals!’

‘OK, new rule,’ Ethan says. ‘From now on, Sally’s only allowed

to talk about musicals one day a week. And I guess that goes for me too.’

‘Agreed,’ Niall says.

‘What? You can’t do that!’

‘Why not? You’re not in charge,’ Ethan says. ‘Hey, did you

watch that video I sent you last night?’ he says to Niall, changing the subject so quickly I’m insulted.

‘The one with the dog scoring the ice-hockey goal? That was

insane! How did he even do it?’

‘I know – and then he did it twice!’

‘I saw this other one of a cat clinging to a basketball hoop—’

‘OK, I’m leaving,’ I announce, officially out of patience and

gathering up my things.

‘Where are you going?’ Ethan asks.

‘Somewhere my creativity is appreciated.’

He scoffs. ‘Dramatic.’

11

from the top sally flynn ’

‘Yes, correct,’ I say, swinging my school bag over my shoulder

with flair. ‘You know, as a future Broadway actor, that word isn’t

exactly an insult.’ I don’t wait for a response, just promptly exit the common area stage left.

Mr Lyons is tinkering away at the piano when I enter his class-

room. ‘Sally! Great to see you. Here to borrow another script?’

‘No, thanks. I’m still reading through Wicked.’

‘And?’

‘Loving it. Even the stage directions are funny!’

Mr Lyons laughs. ‘Winnie Holzman is a genius, isn’t she? She

has this amazing way of setting up great physical comedy.’

‘Exactly! The characters already feel so alive on the page. I can

picture all their little mannerisms. I really hope the movies do it justice.’

‘I have a good feeling. So, what can I do for you today?’

‘Nothing really,’ I say, casually perusing the shelf, like Belle in

the book shop. ‘I was just in the neighbourhood and thought I might get inspiration for my next study.’

Mr Lyons chuckles. ‘Work away. Actually, while you’re here …’

He takes a picture frame out of the backpack by his desk. ‘You’ll like this. It’s the review of A Christmas Carol. I’d been meaning to

get it framed. Front page of the St Catherine Chronicle – not bad for your first lead role!’

I grimace at the sight of myself in a top hat and cloak. It wasn’t

a bad review – actually, it was mostly glowing and the photo of 12

from the top sally flynn ’

me taking a bow as my castmates applaud really captures the

energy of opening night. But then, out of nowhere, the reviewer – a girl in my year called Naomi Lewis – decided to call me

‘somewhat overzealous’. The disrespect! No mention of the fact

that I was an unofficial understudy who swooped in at the last

minute so the show could go on. There wouldn’t have been a play to review if it hadn’t been for me!

‘What’s this?’ I say, pulling a book from the shelf and chang-

ing the subject. I turn So You Want to Write a Musical over in my hands.

‘Ah, that,’ Mr Lyons says bashfully. ‘Impulse purchase from a

few years ago.’

‘Is it any good?’

‘It’s got some good tips.’

‘Whoa – the foreword is by Stephen Sondheim! He’s basically

the godfather of Broadway!’

Mr Lyons laughs. ‘He certainly is. Have you gotten around

to watching Sundays in the Park with George yet? It’s his masterpiece, if you ask me.’

I shake my head. ‘It’s still on my list. But wait – have you writ-

ten a musical, Mr Lyons?’

Mr Lyons clears his throat. ‘Not exactly. I was listening to a lot

of Lin-Manuel Miranda interviews when I picked this up. Did

you know he used to be a high-school teacher? I suppose I felt

inspired. I’m not sure I have it in me to write a musical, though.’

13

from the top sally flynn ’

‘Why not? This book makes it look pretty easy,’ I say, leafing

through the pages.

‘Maybe you’re more suited to it than me. I mean, you’ve read

all those scripts – that’s good training.’

‘Maybe,’ I say. ‘I’d probably have to be older.’

‘Sondheim was fifteen when he wrote his first musical.’

‘Wait, seriously? Did it make it to Broadway?’

‘No, but it was a useful learning experience. A first step on his

journey to greatness.’

I turn the book over in my hands again, seeing it in a new

light. ‘Actually, I am kind of writing a musical.’

‘You are? Fantastic! What’s it about?’

‘Well, it’s with my friends. We weren’t really being serious

when we came up with the idea. We mostly just make up song titles for fun.’

‘That does sound fun! And, hey – you never know where it

might lead. You’ve seen Tick, Tick … Boom!, haven’t you?’

‘Of course! Poor Jonathan Larson. All that work and Superbia

never even got made.’

‘No, but then he wrote Rent and that’s one of the most iconic

musicals of all time. Who knows where your musical might lead you? You’ll have to stick with it to find out.’

This is why I like visiting Mr Lyons at lunchtime. He cares about

his students and wants us to succeed. He will absolutely get a spe-

cial mention in my acceptance speech when I win my first Tony!

14

from the top sally flynn ’

‘Can I borrow this?’ I say, smoothing my hand over the cover

of the book.

‘Go ahead! Someone should benefit from its wisdom.’

*** Dad comes home and fixes his bike to the rack on the wall. ‘Hey, Sal,’ he calls, glancing over at the sofa, where I’m eating a bowl of cereal, our cat, Misty, curled up beside me. ‘Good day?’

‘Your Australian accent needs work,’ I reply, my gaze fixed on

the TV.

‘Huh?’

‘Nothing. Good day, yes, fine.’

‘Great!’ He perches himself on my armrest and pauses the TV

with the remote. ‘So, what did you get up to in school?’

‘Oh, the usual. Reading, writing, counting beads on my abacus.’

Dad swats me with the remote. ‘Uh huh. Hope you didn’t get

your knuckles rapped for giving cheek. Homework done?’

‘On pause. Needed sustenance.’ I hold up my cereal bowl as

evidence.

‘Right, well, get it finished while I get some dinner on, will

you? Fishcakes OK with you? I grabbed some on the way home.’

Fishing fishcakes again. ‘Do we at least have sweet chilli

sauce?’ I say, not even attempting to conceal my disappointment.

Dad pulls a face. ‘Don’t think so. Here.’ He takes a fiver from 15

from the top sally flynn ’

his wallet and hands it to me. ‘Go on while the shop’s still open.

Oh, before I forget – Granny was on to me again about visiting.

Would some Saturday this month suit you?’

‘Sure,’ I say sarcastically. ‘My calendar’s wide open for an after-

noon of criticism from dear old Granny.’

‘Oh, come on. She’s not that bad.’

‘Are you serious? All she asks me about is school and exams

and hockey. She’s obsessed!’

Dad laughs. ‘OK, you’re right. But I think she’d ease up on

those things if she knew you had other interests. I’d say she doesn’t know what to ask you half the time.’

My eyes narrow on Dad. ‘Why are you being so diplomatic?

You and Granny always bicker when you’re together.’

‘Maybe I’m maturing in my old age. I don’t know – I feel bad

for her. She lost so much time with you during the pandemic, then she was away at Christmas. I think she’d like to see more of you. You’re her only grandchild.’

I blow out my lips. ‘Fine.’

‘Great! I’ll get back to her this week. Now, go on before it gets

any darker.’

***

Crossing the road from our flat to Grand Canal Square, I’m

struck by the sight of a crowd gathered at the entrance of the Bord Gáis Energy Theatre. I watch as they hand their phones 16

from the top sally flynn ’

and tickets to the ushers to scan, all dressed in warm coats and

chatting merrily. I sigh wistfully at the scene. How majestic the

theatre looks lit up in the evening, like a grand ship on the ocean.

Who could grow up in its shadow and not be inspired by it? How thrilling to think that one day, I’ll be the person the crowd flocks

to see. I’ll be the reason they rise to their feet at curtain close, applauding and calling encore, encore! I’ll be the reason they buy a

copy of the programme on the way out, so that they never forget

the name of the actress in the lead role. Pinch me! A gust of wind

blows, setting me on my way again, visions of a bright Broadway future leading me through the dark.

17

CHAPTER 2

‘N

o way,’ Niall says bluntly when I present my idea.

He, Ethan and I are standing at the bus stop after school,

waiting with Ethan until his bus arrives.

‘But I haven’t even explained it to you fully!’

‘So what? You want us to actually write Fringes: The Musical

and I’m saying no. Also, this is a violation of the new rule. You’re not allowed to talk about musicals again until Wednesday.’

‘That rule only applies to lunchtime!’

Niall looks at Ethan for back-up.

Ethan holds his hands up. ‘Hey, I only suggested the rule. I

can’t enforce anything.’

‘Surely you think this is a good idea?’ I say to him, a bit more

desperately than I mean to. ‘You love musicals!’

‘Maybe, but I’m no match for your theatre-kid energy—’ ‘Nobody is,’ Niall mutters.

‘Also, you never think my ideas are any good. It’s hard to

believe you actually want to work on this together.’

‘That’s true,’ Niall says.

‘I thought you were zoned out?’ I snap back at him.

‘But besides all of that,’ Ethan continues, ‘it sounds like a lot

of work and I don’t think I’m bothered.’

18

from the top sally flynn ’

‘Not bothered about your future? Ethan, come on! Musicals

take years to write and workshop and produce. I’ve been reading

all about it. This is a chance to get a head start. The payoff will

come later, when we’re starring in our very own Broadway show.

Tick, Tick ... BOOM!’

Niall jumps in alarm. ‘God, you’re intense.’

‘Passionate!’ I correct. ‘So, what do you say? Are you guys on board?’

Niall and Ethan make eye contact for a moment, then burst

out laughing.

‘Definitely not!’ Ethan says. ‘Sorry, but it’s just such a bad idea.

Can you imagine actually trying to write a musical about being unpopular?’

‘It’s not likely to improve the situation, is it?’ Niall says.

‘Who cares!’ I say. ‘School will be a dot in the rearview mirror

of our lives by the time the musical is actually finished. We’ll be so over being fringers!’

‘Sorry, Sal,’ Ethan says, flagging his bus as it comes into view.

‘I go along with a lot of your schemes, but I’m drawing a line at this one.’

‘Yeah, don’t take it personally,’ Niall says. ‘It’s just a really ter-

rible idea. Like, uniquely bad.’

I curse them and their anti-musical hostility the whole way

home.

*** 19

from the top sally flynn ’

My favourite time of day is the window between getting in

from school and Dad returning home from work. The flat is all

mine and I can sing and dance and do what I like without being badgered about homework or chores. Sometimes, I’ll do my

hair and make-up as if I’m attending a red-carpet event, or play

Talk Show, where I sit in front of my dressing-table mirror and

pretend I’m being interviewed by a well-known TV presenter.

Today is a Talk Show kind of day, when I’m feeling especially inspired about my future career.

I slip into one of Mum’s old cocktail dresses and take a seat in

front of the mirror. I pretend the presenter has just introduced

me and smile and wave graciously at my reflection. When the imaginary audience keeps applauding, I gesture at them to settle down, even though I’m secretly loving the attention.

‘Well, well, well, Ms Sally Flynn,’ the imaginary TV presenter

– an American guy who hosts a late-night talk show – begins. ‘I think you have a few fans in the audience tonight!’

The audience cheers again and I feign embarrassment before

placing my hand on my chest and smiling modestly. Everyone loves a humble celebrity.

‘OK, OK,’ Mr American Host says, settling the audience at

last. ‘So, for anyone who’s been living under a rock these last few

years, the legend sitting across from me tonight is none other

than Sally Flynn, the multi-award-winning Broadway star all the way from Ireland! So, Sally, tell me, how does a little girl 20

from the top sally flynn ’

from the Emerald Isle go on to win five Tony awards before she’s even turned twenty-five?’

‘Must be the luck of the Irish!’ I say, smiling coyly and giving

the audience a little wink.

Mr American Host is in exaggerated hysterics over this

remark and smacks his hands on the desk for effect. ‘And she’s got a wicked sense of humour! OK, seriously though, did you always know you were destined for stardom?’

I bring my fingertips together under my chin and ponder the

question earnestly. ‘You know, I think I was really lucky to grow up in the shadow of Ireland’s biggest theatre, the Bord Gáis

Energy Theatre. I remember being a little girl, watching the crowds come and go each night and imagining the day they’d

flock to see me.’ I pause and wipe a pretend tear from my eye.

The audience awws.

‘Look at you, melting all of our hearts,’ Mr American Host

says, handing me a handkerchief from his jacket pocket. ‘And

here I thought all former theatre kids were ... mm, I don’t want to be mean, but …’

I laugh self-deprecatingly. ‘You can say it! We can be a little

intense, huh?’

‘I mean, I wasn’t going to say it! But were you?’

I shrug demurely. ‘I might have been a little eccentric. But

you know, I always tell my fans that if you want to make it in

this industry, you have to be willing to put yourself out there.

21

from the top sally flynn ’

You can’t worry about what other people think. You have to take risks, be bold—’

‘Sal?’ Dad calls, yanking me out of my daydream. ‘You home?’

Gah! I didn’t even get to play the ‘unpronounceable’ Irish

names game – a rite of passage for any Irish star on international talk shows! I quickly change out of Mum’s dress into pyjamas, as

the smell of fishcakes wafts beneath my bedroom door. Reality is so dull.

22

CHAPTER 3

‘H

ow long will this take?’ I ask Dad as we walk up the drive

to Granny’s house. Granny lives all the way out in Killiney. It’s

taken us over an hour to get here by DART because we don’t have a car.

‘An hour maybe? Just be polite and let the afternoon run its

course. Granny doesn’t dilly dally. She’ll probably have somewhere to be later; some important person to catch up with.’

Dad rings the doorbell and we both instinctively step back.

‘There you are!’ Granny says, opening the door. She looks

elegant as ever in a crisp white blouse with the collar partially popped, wide-leg silk trousers and a complicated necklace that looks like it could be on display in an art gallery. ‘I was wondering if I should send a text.’ This is her way of letting us know we’re late.

We follow Granny into the front room, where she’s set out

tea and a selection of dainty sandwiches and biscuits for us. The floors are covered in plush beige carpet and I find myself tiptoeing for fear of leaving even a speck of dirt in my wake.

‘And how are you getting on in school, Sally?’ Granny asks,

setting her hands on her lap and looking at me from her armchair. I feel like she’s interviewing me on her old radio show.

23

from the top sally flynn ’

‘Fine,’ I say, taking a sandwich and awkwardly cradling it in

my hand like an injured baby bird. I don’t want to leave crumbs, so I take only the tiniest nibbles.

‘Were you happy with your Christmas test results?’

I pretend to chew for a moment before answering. ‘Oh, you

know. Always room for improvement.’

Granny’s brow furrows. ‘Well, plenty of time to catch up

before your summer tests. It’ll all stand to you next year for the Junior Cert.’

The Junior Cert! God – relax, Granny.

‘True,’ I say, smiling politely and reaching for a miniature

shortbread biscuit. Trust Granny to get the nice treats from M&S.

‘And did you ever take up hockey again? I sent your dad that

article about the benefits of girls playing sports.’ She glances over

at Dad, who immediately straightens in his seat, as if Granny is a teacher who’s caught him looking out the window.

‘Hockey’s not really my thing,’ I say, fidgeting with the edges

of my napkin.

‘Sally was in the school play at Christmas, Marian,’ Dad says.

‘You were? That’s wonderful,’ Granny says.

‘She was Scrooge in A Christmas Carol. Completely stole the

show.’

‘The lead role! That’s very impressive. I’d have gone to see it if

I’d known.’

24

from the top sally flynn ’

‘It was all a bit last minute,’ Dad explains. ‘Sally was the under-

study. The original Scrooge got Covid, so she stepped in for him on opening night.’

‘To be cast as the understudy is a great achievement,’ Granny

says. ‘Your director clearly had confidence in you.’

I open my mouth to correct her, then think better of it. Does

it matter that I wasn’t really cast as the understudy, like Granny thinks I was? Is the truth – that the understudy also got Covid

and I happened to be the only other person who knew all the lines – less impressive?

‘I think she caught the acting bug from it,’ Dad says. ‘You

want to be on Broadway one day – don’t you, Sal?’

‘Broadway!’ Granny says in a slightly patronising tone. ‘Very

ambitious. And are you taking acting classes, singing lessons?’

‘Eh,’ I say, caught off guard. ‘Well, I watch stuff on YouTube.

Vocal warm-ups and dialect tutorials – that sort of stuff.’

Granny shakes her head. ‘You’ll need proper training if you

want to pursue musical theatre seriously. I wonder if we can find

you a singing teacher. It should be easy now that we’re not all hiding behind masks anymore.’

‘I think this is more of a hobby for Sally,’ Dad puts in.

‘Nonsense, Patrick. You’re never too young to start honing

your craft.’

‘Right, but it’s also OK to just enjoy yourself—’

‘I actually completely agree with Granny,’ I say, feeling 25

from the top sally flynn ’

energised by this serious discussion about my future career. ‘I am

serious about this. I’m even writing my own musical. In a few years, I’m going to bring it to Broadway and star in it myself.’

‘Isn’t that marvellous!’ Granny says, clapping her hands in

delight. ‘There’s the Maybury streak. I knew it was in there somewhere, Sally!’

Dad clears his throat loudly. ‘Anyway, have you any trips

coming up, Marian? Some reason or other you’ll be out of

the country for a while? You’ve always got something in the calendar.’

They start talking about Granny’s next girls’ getaway and I

excuse myself to go to the bathroom. I head for the fancy one upstairs so that I can snoop at Granny’s expensive face creams and sneak a spritz of designer perfume.

Along the stairs is a series of pictures of Granny and Grandad

at glamorous events through the years. Grandad was a sports commentator and there are loads of photos of him with famous athletes. Meanwhile, Granny seems to have met every Irish

celebrity under the sun. There are photos of her with Michael D. Higgins, Maureen O’Hara, even Jedward.

And then there are photos of Mum. So many photos of Mum.

Mum with her school hockey team and playing the flute at a

school recital; Mum proudly holding up a trophy for debating

and standing on the podium on Sports’ Day, a gold medal around her neck. I take them in with a mix of pride and something that 26

from the top sally flynn ’

feels a bit like dread. Usually, people are good at one or two things; Mum was amazing at everything.

When I return to the front room, Granny is telling Dad about

an apartment building that went on fire recently because a resident left their stove on.

‘I didn’t hear about that,’ Dad says, ‘but then again, I don’t

really keep up with news from Wales.’

‘Safety concerns aside, you must find it so cramped living in

such a tight space. And with no garden! I don’t know how you survived the pandemic.’

‘Somehow, we managed,’ Dad says, an edge in his voice.

‘Despite our squalid surroundings.’

Granny purses her lips. ‘Oh, don’t be so dramatic, Patrick. I

was only pointing out – ah, Sally! You’re back.’

‘We should probably get a move on, Sal, what do you think?’

Dad says. He stands up and vigorously shakes the crumbs from his lap onto the carpet.

‘Already?’ I say.

‘Thanks for a lovely afternoon, Marian. Must do it again soon!’

I take that as a yes.

We put on our coats and Granny waves us off.

‘That was nice,’ I say, looping my arm through Dad’s for warmth.

Dad looks at me sceptically. ‘Granny wasn’t too hard on you?’

I shake my head. ‘Not at all. For once, I feel like she actually

understood me. And she’s right. YouTube was fine to begin with, 27

from the top sally flynn ’

but if I’m serious about being on Broadway, then I need proper training.’

‘You know it’s OK to just have a hobby, though, don’t you? To

do something purely because you find it fun?’

‘No, Dad!’ I say dismissively. ‘You don’t get it. Granny and I are

career women. It’s the Maybury streak!’

Dad grumbles. ‘Of course. The famous Maybury streak.’

‘You say it like it’s a bad thing.’

‘Do you know how often your mum woke up with ink on her

face after falling asleep on some document for a case she was working on? The Mayburys have a tendency to push themselves too far, if you ask me.’

‘I wonder if Granny has any connections in the theatre indus-

try,’ I say, ignoring Dad’s concerns. ‘Do you think I should get business cards made, just in case?’

Dad sighs and ushers us across the road. ‘Let’s just get our-

selves home, shall we?’

28