As a devoted Enid Blyton reader throughout my childhood, Malory Towers was always my absolute favourite. I read those books over and over again, and even now, more than fifty years later, I still have my well-thumbed copy on the shelf. They were never just stories to me; they were an entire world I could step into at will.
Like so many readers of my generation, I fantasised about life in a boarding school: the camaraderie, the jolly hockey sticks spirit, the midnight feasts with lashings of ginger beer, and the sense of adventure that came with being away from home. Set against the imagined backdrop of the Devonshire coast or rolling English countryside, it was pure escapism long before the internet ever existed.
So I arrived at HOME Manchester with exceptionally high expectations. What I found was a production that didn’t just revisit that world, but gently opened it up again with warmth, intelligence and theatrical joy.
Emma Rice’s adaptation and direction understands the heart of Malory Towers instinctively. Some of the characterisation is knowingly tongue-in-cheek, but what comes through most strongly is how clearly these girls are drawn as individuals. Even in Blyton’s original writing, they possess recognisable and enduring traits: resilience, grit, determination, courage, kindness and a strong moral compass. The stage version honours that, showing them not as idealised figures, but as young people learning, failing and growing together, often while still only eleven or twelve years old.
The heart of the show lies in the camaraderie between the girls. We watch them live away from home, bond, clash, reconcile and evolve, all while taking immense pride in being Malory Towers girls. That sense of identity, of belonging to something bigger than themselves, shines through like a beacon. Their pride in their school, their friendships and even their uniforms becomes a shared emotional anchor for the entire production.
Musically, the show leans into a jukebox style, weaving familiar songs into the fabric of the story. Some numbers, such as Mr Sandman, are cleverly reworked, while original compositions add emotional depth and narrative texture. The standout moment for me was Hush, Sally, written by Emma Rice and Ian Ross. It is a beautifully tender piece, full of stillness and sincerity, and sung with real emotional clarity. Moments like this give the production its unexpected poignancy.
As with many contemporary touring productions, the company is small—just eight performers—but remarkably versatile. Many of the cast are multi-instrumentalists, moving seamlessly between acting, singing and playing instruments. There is something especially evocative about the use of an upright piano, played on stage by Stephanie Hockley in her role as the wonderfully Parisian Irene Dupont. The sight and sound of that old-fashioned school-hall piano instantly conjured memories of assemblies and music lessons, adding yet another layer of nostalgia to a production already rich with it.
Although very much an ensemble piece, several performances stood out. Eden Barry was wonderfully affecting as the timid and self-doubting Mary-Lou Atkinson, charting her journey from nervous outsider to the radiant Titania, Queen of the Fairies, with real warmth and conviction. Molly Cheesley brought terrific comic timing to Alicia Johns, the mischievous underachiever whose discovery that intelligence comes in many forms becomes one of the show’s most endearing lessons.
Robyn Sinclair led the company with gusto as Darrell Rivers, capturing both the character’s fiery temper and the strength of character that ultimately transforms her stubbornness into determination and leadership. Darrell’s journey from impulsive newcomer to respected friend and role model forms the backbone of the story, and Sinclair carried it with energy and heart.
Zoe West was a particular favourite of mine as horse-mad, tomboy Bill Robinson. Bringing warmth, humour and a wonderfully mischievous twinkle to the role, she peppered her performance with knowing glances and subtle fourth-wall-breaking moments that invited the audience directly into her confidence.
Every appearance felt completely natural and utterly charming. Bethany Wooding’s Sally Hope was played with admirable restraint and stoicism. Coming from a theatrical family yet wanting none of the spotlight herself, Sally begins as a practical, highly organised and occasionally bossy presence within the dormitory. Wooding gradually reveals the warmth and vulnerability beneath Sally’s rigid exterior, showing that her sense of duty and order is actually one of the things holding the group together. By the end, she emerges as someone the other girls can rely upon completely, and the performance quietly becomes one of the show’s emotional foundations.
Stephanie Hockley charmed throughout as the French music teacher Irene Dupont, bringing Parisian flair, humour, language and an obvious love of music to every appearance. Her singing voice was gorgeous, and she became a delightful bridge between the audience and the world of the school. Musician understudy Emily Payne was also visible on stage throughout much of the performance, her violin adding texture, atmosphere and richness to the musical arrangements.
Particular praise must also go to Anna Soden as Gwendoline Lacey. Outwardly vain, spiteful, manipulative and often downright dreadful, Gwendoline is one of Blyton’s most memorable creations. Yet beneath the bullying and theatrics lies a deeply unhappy child masking a traumatic and troubled home life. The performance avoided caricature and instead found genuine humanity within the character, making her eventual vulnerability all the more affecting.
A lovely touch was the inclusion of Dame Sheila Hancock as the voice of Miss Grayling, the wise and compassionate headmistress. Appearing via a shadowy projected silhouette, she brought warmth, authority and gravitas to a role that generations of readers have cherished.
The set design is deceptively simple but extremely effective. A clever construction presents the interior façade of a vast school wall, punctuated by elegant windows that become a canvas for projections. Such technology has become commonplace in contemporary theatre, but here it was used thoughtfully and sparingly. The projections enhanced the storytelling rather than dominating it, creating atmosphere, suggesting locations and supporting the action while keeping the performers firmly at the centre of attention.
There are moments of delightful theatrical invention throughout. A brief sequence of organised stage chaos perfectly captures the bustle and energy of school life. The swimming scenes are particularly memorable, with physical theatre, movement and puppetry combining to create the illusion of diving, splashing and floating through water. It is imaginative, playful and beautifully executed.
The cliff-top rescue scene proved equally inventive. As Darrell attempts to save a fellow pupil dangling precariously from the rocks, the production uses puppet limbs and exaggerated theatrical devices to suggest the action. It is difficult to describe but utterly hilarious to watch, embracing the joy of theatre while gently poking fun at its own mechanics. The audience responded with delighted laughter.
Throughout the evening there were countless moments of joy. The audience may not have gone wild, but their appreciation was unmistakable. Warm applause greeted individual performances and there was a genuine sense that everyone present understood the care and hard work that had gone into creating such a cohesive ensemble piece. We were even treated to an impromptu performance during the interval before Act Two resumed, a charming touch that reinforced the connection between company and audience.
What surprised me most was how deeply the production connected me to a part of myself I hadn’t visited for years. Watching these stories unfold, it felt as though a tiny corner of my heart, long forgotten, had quietly opened and released a flood of childhood joy. Suddenly I was that young reader again, completely immersed in a world of friendship, adventure and endless possibility.
Looking around the audience, I suspect there were many fellow Enid Blyton devotees experiencing something similar. There were parents and grandparents introducing younger generations to the stories that had shaped their own childhoods, hoping to pass on a sense of that same magic. Whether Malory Towers lands with the same force for today’s children is perhaps uncertain, but what this production achieves is something equally valuable: it demonstrates why these stories have endured for so long.
Full of joy, warmth, laughter, excitement and expectation, the show celebrates the timeless values at the heart of Blyton’s writing—friendship, loyalty, courage, resilience and kindness. I left HOME Manchester not only entertained, but gently reminded of something I had almost forgotten: the simple, enduring happiness of believing in stories like these. And I left with that happiness quietly restored.
Malory Towers is touring the UK until 2nd August and is at HOME until Saturday 13th June.
Reviewers: Kathryn Gorton and Debbie Lewis
On: 4th June 2026
