JULIA read Lina’s story and agreed with Sister Rosemary that it was good enough to send to the Age. The two girls spent their lunchtime in the library typing it up. Lina also typed a letter addressed to Stella Davis, and everything was folded neatly into a crisp white envelope with the St Brigid’s logo in the top corner. Lina kissed it once for luck and left it for Sister Rosemary to post. Now that the story was out of the way, it was time to study for exams.

All that week, Lina and Julia sat side by side at lunchtimes, poring over their Maths books. They’d made a pact that even though Maths was their least favourite subject, they would try to pass it as well as they could. In the evenings, Lina studied alone in her room. Sometimes her thoughts would turn to the story about John, wondering if it had ever reached Stella Davis’s desk, but then she would force her mind back to her books, scolding herself for being so easily distracted. I’m going to have to do well at school, she reminded herself, if I want to be a journalist.

One evening, Pa knocked on her door and poked his head around the doorway.

‘I’m off to work,’ he said. ‘How’s your study going?’

‘Oh, I’m sorry, Pa!’ Lina said, looking up from the textbook on her lap. She was sitting on her bed, all her books spread out around her. ‘I didn’t get the chance to read you the paper!’

‘No, no! You must study,’ her father said. ‘That’s much more important.’ He came in and stood beside her to look at the textbook she had open. ‘What’s the subject?’

‘Maths,’ sighed Lina.

Her father scrunched up his face in sympathy. ‘Can’t help you there, I’m afraid. It was always my worst subject, too.’

Lina smiled. She loved hearing how alike she and her father were.

Papa hovered a little longer. ‘Are you okay studying here on your bed? You sure you don’t want to use the kitchen table?’

Lina shook her head. ‘I can’t concentrate in there, with people coming in and out. I’m fine here. Really.’

Her father smiled and stroked her hair. They both knew she was lying. They both knew that all Lina wanted was a room of her own with a little desk in it. A quiet place to write that she didn’t have to share with her grumbling old nonna, who complained if she kept the light on for too long.

A room of her own and a typewriter were the two things Lina wished for every time the candles were blown out on a cake, a chicken bone was snapped or a dandelion was puffed away in the wind. But there was no point in fretting; Lina knew that having these things was as unlikely as blitzing her Maths exam without studying. She looked back down at her textbook.

‘Oh, I nearly forgot!’ her father said, slapping his forehead. ‘I didn’t just come in here to interrupt you and stare at your Maths book,’ he joked. ‘Here. It came today.’ He pulled out a crisp white envelope from the front pocket of his navy overalls. Even before he had handed it over Lina could see her name typed neatly across the front, the familiar logo in the corner.

She gasped. ‘It’s from the Age!’

Her hands trembled as she carefully unstuck the flap on the back of the envelope and gently eased out the crisp, folded paper from within. She skimmed over the typed letter to the name at the bottom. ‘It’s from Stella Davis!’ she gasped. ‘She wants to see me!’

Lina’s father sat on the edge of her bed. ‘Really? How does she even know you?’

Lina blushed. ‘I sent her a story I wrote,’ she said meekly.

‘Not the one about our family?’ her father said in surprise.

‘No, no. Of course not. I wrote another one. About the Olympics,’ she added quickly, which wasn’t exactly untrue.

‘That’s brilliant news, mia cara! Does she want to publish your story in the newspaper?’

Lina read over the letter again. ‘Um, she doesn’t say that exactly,’ she said. ‘But she wants to meet with me to talk about it. She said I can go in to meet her at the Age this Saturday. At 10 a.m. Oh my goodness. That’s tomorrow! Oh dear! Will you take me, Papa? When you get home from work? You won’t be too tired?

‘Of course I will take you!’ her father said, pulling her into his big bear arms and squeezing her tight. ‘Are you kidding? I wouldn’t miss it for the world! My daughter! The journalist!’

‘But we have the Christmas party at Julia’s tomorrow night, too, remember?’ Lina worried. ‘When will you sleep?’

‘I can sleep in the afternoon. Don’t you worry about that. Oh my clever, clever girl! Just wait till I tell everyone at the car plant tonight. My brilliant daughter having her first article published in the newspaper!’ He kissed her hard on both her cheeks and squeezed her once again. ‘Ma!’ he called, as he dashed out of the room. ‘You’ll never guess what our clever daughter has done!’

Lina sank back onto her pillow, the letter clasped to her chest, a smile so wide she felt her face might split in two. Stella Davis wants to meet me! Tomorrow! The Stella Davis! I can’t believe it! She had to pinch herself to check she wasn’t dreaming.