‘With a little effort, I wonder if I could do that?’

I stared at the screen until Marlow’s snapping finger’s brought me back to the table.

‘Eyrie? You with us?’ He rapped the blueprints with his knuckles. ‘No fuck ups this time Eyrie. No getting fancy, just get through.’

‘Yeah, I know.’ My eyes started wandering back towards the T.V in the corner, the picture hazy on the old set but clear enough to see the Irish girl hammer home the landing on her last set of tumbles.

‘This ain’t the Olympics,’ growled Marlow. ‘Even if you’re going for gold.’