Danielle Marin - Top Girl

An unmissable insight into the true lives behind the county lines gangs. You should read this. Pippa Crerar, Daily Mirror

There are some books that stay with you forever and Top Girl will be one of those for me. Vivid, insightful and extremely powerful, I have thought about this book every day since reading it. Danielle has opened my eyes to a world on my doorstep that I have never seen before. And I feel that I am coming away from it a more informed person. It is truly a must-read for everyone. Jenny Proudfoot, Marie Claire

I have a feeling this is going to be one of THE books of 2022. Linda Hill, Lindas Book Bag

Whoa! Incredible read had to remind myself that this isnt crime fiction but crime fact. Harrowing but also inspiring. Joy Kluver, author of Last Seen, Broken Girls, Left for Dead

I was in awe of Danielles strength of character, and that she could make a conscious decision to turn her life round. Top Girl is a powerful story that applies to todays younger generation. I think every school-age child should read this book as its a lesson in the consequences of making bad choices. Highly recommend. Lorraine Rugman, The Book Review Caf

packs a punch and left me feeling every emotion under the sun. I felt sad, happy, proud and broken but what a journey I went on. Karen and Her Books

This searing, moving and, at times, gut wrenching memoir pulls literally no punches.

It is a twenty-first century cautionary tale told with grit, authenticity and a brutal sense of self awareness that honestly humbled me when I read it. This is a woman with integrity identifying the key periods in her life where she was failed by societal structures.

I had to stop reading several times because it was so very brutal and there is a dignity in how Danielle describes her traumas, it is not exploitative or graphic, which makes what happened to her all the more powerful.

I finished this book in tears and in awe, wanting to applaud this woman for her strength and the way that she continues to use her experiences to contribute to a justice system which is deeply flawed and not fit for purpose. Rachel Read It, blogger

5* Reader Reviews, NetGalley

Beautiful. Poignant. Phenomenal. This was a beautiful read and I learnt so much. I cried and I smiled and there was nothing more that I wanted from this book. Truly a gem.

I devoured this book in a few days. The tales are at times incomprehensible, and the events D gets involved with are really quite hard to come to terms with. Raw, gritty and so very honest.

I absolutely loved this book and read it in one day I just couldnt put it down.

TOP
GIRL

Danielle Marin

For all the lost girls
trying to find their way

This book contains descriptions
of drug taking and sexual violence.

CARNIVAL BABY

I scanned the corner south of the block. All clear for now. Out front was the green a patch of coarse, prickly grass and sun-baked dirt where a few mums chatted over pushchairs. Beyond that, the local park. I was three floors up, above the double deckers, as high as the treetops, peering down on the concrete walkways and steel railings below. From here, I could see it all.

Glancing back to the corner, a police car rolled up. I ducked low, grazing a shoulder on the balconys rough brick, before daring another look. Chances were, it was just on the prowl, a routine drive-by. But if that car slowed down, well it was here on business. Perhaps a couple of baby mommas punching it out in the walkway. Maybe a drug deal turned messy in the stairwell. If the car teamed up with a van, the block was getting swept. For real.

Now my heart pounded as the car crawled to a stop. Squatting back down with the balcony for cover, I waved to Ryan three doors down, hissing, Police!

He nodded. It was on. We were ready for them.

Ryan darted in his flat where Caribbean music boomed and clattered from the open doorway. My alert rippled along the balcony, bringing more soldiers: Jeremy usually so quiet and reserved and Kaiylin, her straggly hair pungent with the smell of incense. Ryan reappeared moments later. We huddled around him as he laid out a carrier bag bristling with pistols.

Fully loaded. Battle ready.

Ryan pressed one cold and heavy into my palm, nodding with a wicked grin that said, you know what to do. We took up position on the balcony snipers, sights trained on the two clueless officers below as they made their way towards the block. It was almost too easy. They didnt stand a chance.

Shes new , I thought, watching the young, blonde policewoman. Her head bobbed and swivelled like a nodding dog, eyes darting nervously from balcony to balcony as she neared the stairwell. I held my breath. Almost in range. Almost

Then Ryan gave the command: Now!

We exploded in whoops and giggles, fingers furiously pumping the sprung plastic triggers of our water pistols. The two cops below tried to dodge the spray. Grinning, they squinted up the towers concrete walls, trying to spot their assailants. To my surprise, Blondie joined in the game, tucking her chin to her radio to bark, Were under attack! Send back-up! I liked her all the more for that.

We howled with laughter, trigger fingers burning.

Just as they folded into the cover of the stairwell, two flashes of colour zipped past me, an inch from my nose. The water balloons, chucked off the balcony above, exploded by the coppers feet, splattering the hems of their police-issue trousers. Squealing with laughter, we scarpered into the safety of our own flats.

Fair play, the police usually met our water-pistol ambushes with grudging smiles. They werent so keen on the balloons, but a direct hit scored you some proper kudos. And no seven-year-old was getting locked up for lobbing water bombs. What was the worst that could happen? It wasnt done with malice, or because of some deep-seated hatred of law enforcement. The opposite, in fact. Id been told to respect the police. Even later all the bad stuff I got up to its not like I was on some massive vendetta.

My mum, Christina, shot a disapproving look at the dripping wet water pistol in my hand as I careered into the kitchen.

As if those poor police officers dont have enough to do! she tutted.

I just stood there panting from the thrill of dishing out our latest wet welcome.

I told you before theyre here to protect us, Mum said. Let them get on with their job!

Didnt mean we couldnt be a little bit cheeky with them.

Had to be done. It was practically an unwritten rule.

I jutted my chin at the steaming pot on Mums stove, and groaned, Is it ready yet?

There was no such thing as fast food in Mums kitchen. Her cooking always took a long time. Slow roasts. Stews. That pot rich and juicy with meat, lemon and olive oil could simmer for hours. For me and my little brother, John, it was pure torment.

Its ready when its ready, she shrugged indifferently.

She was like that.

Hundred percent Mums beef and lamb were cooked so meltingly tender you could cut them with a spoon. But she served her love tough.

You scuffed a knee? Sure, shed dust you off and make sure you werent bleeding to death. But if you wanted it kissing better? Well, best bend over and do it yourself. Sometimes, at the school gates, Id have to squash a pang of jealousy watching mums hugging their kids goodbye. My mum was protective, and I knew she loved me, but she didnt really say it. I dont remember cuddles. The most shed do was brush my hair.

Perhaps she got that tough streak in the crossing from Cyprus, when the churning sea got her so mad sick that she never set foot on a boat again. Or maybe it was when her carefree Cypriot childhood long, hot days on the beach, stealing donkeys and galloping them around the olive groves got blasted to rubble by Turkish bombs.