I was looking out to sea when you left. You never told us you were leaving. Just came and went with the mist. I called your name 17 times but you were gone. Why did you not hear me call you? I had seen your face in the misty sea stones. The island in the sky still existed with your name on it. The tiny molecules of light that lit my spirit were gone now. Day and night I called you.  I bellowed from the mountain tips and still you did not appear. You captured one hundred and ten corpse hearts yet now I was just a signet on a river without her swan mother. 

I wandered home engrossed in a loving tune inside my head that was once you. There are a myriad little sea creatures, animals, birds, insects and humans in this life. There are a thousand angelic beings that live above the land and guard us day and night. But one day I was captivated by one upon the Earth who sauntered into my life like a thousand petals of light and showed me the secrets of love and life. From that day I found heaven inside my heart. I miss you so much Morgona. I never had the chance to say goodbye.

I used to cry at night, so badly that the pillow was still wet in the morning light. When I cried I would hunch up my back into the shape of a mountain and call on the angels to rescue me. I wanted the warm glow of my mother and I made the indent inside my back so that it would be warmed by her when she returned one day. I never had a mother. I never had a father.

When I was born with a crooked back bone the doctors were unable to operate as I was in America and because most importantly my mother didn’t care. She was raped by a ship’s captain and then I appeared. I was told this on my 21st birthday.  She gave me away and I was sent to the kid’s home in Edinburgh. Scotland was a shock after the California sunshine.

I used to play with the kids like any other kid. One day there was a shooting in the school playground by some rival gang. We were kept inside for most of the time after that. They knew sunshine was good for us though. They knew that it wasn’t right to keep kids indoors permanently. One boy was shot. That was seriously bad news for an institution that had young children like me.

I used to cry at night then, cry into my pillow for Jimmy who was shot in the arm. He was too weak to survive. Some kids might have got through that but not him. He wouldn’t stop crying and he wouldn’t even let anyone mop up the blood. It was really strange. He had to keep letting the blood ooze out of him ‘til he was unconscious. He told me to take some of it, some of the blood and mark my forehead with it, with his spirit. I did that. I took the blood from the carpet and placed it over my third eye. I was only 6 but I knew what I was doing. And then he just flopped over and died. It was the first death I saw and there were many more after that. 

20 years later I often take my menstrual blood and pour it over the cliff edge, just as a memory of Jimmy. I talk to him sometimes. He was my soul brother and always will be. Jimmy was special and he’s helping me now I know it.

I met Morgona a long time after that. She came to help at the children’s home, but not as a worker. She was a neighbour. She came because she truly loved us, especially me. She would come and bake cakes and show us how to make them, they were delicious chocolate brownies. I’ve never had such delicious cakes in my whole life. She would skip with us too, play games. She lost her children through too many miscarriages. She used to tell me things, confide in me and she would listen to me about my whole life, about how I was feeling. She really wanted to know who I was and what made me feel better. She wanted children more than anything in the world and so she lived next-door to all of us and her life was about us. The carers were only too keen to let her play with us and bake for us. They had enough on their hands with cleaning, writing reports, having meetings, organising us and breaking up all our fights. She just did all the fun things with us. It was paradise when she was around.

One day she told us she had to go away as her Aunt was dying. It was somewhere in the north of England. We never saw her again. Her house was put up for sale. We saw the ‘For Sale’ notice. I couldn’t believe what was happening. A letter came for me in the post. It was beautifully written, something like this: 

Dear Poppet, 

I am so sorry I have had to leave you all and especially you my darling. My Aunt was very sick and I have had to move in with her to be her carer. I miss you all so much but I have a duty to take care of her since there is no-one else and all our family died some years ago now. My brother lives nearby but he has a full time job and family and has very little time or ability to care for my Aunt. I have had to arrange for all my belongings to be moved here so that I can live in the Annexe and from here I care for her. I do wish you all well. Please pass on my love and regards to all the other beautiful children and I shall return when I can. I most of all see such potential in you dear Poppet and I know that one day you are going to make it as a very special person in some way. I do not know how or why I say this exactly but I know you will experience greatness at some time in your life.

Do write to me if you ever feel inclined, with much love from Morgona

And that was the last I ever heard of her. I ripped up the letter as I was so distraught, so lonely and angry. I could not bear any more loss in my life. She had deserted me. That was all I could see. I was touched by her letter, but it was a goodbye letter. It was a parting letter. I never wrote back because I tore up the address. I don’t know why. I regretted it for so many years; my surrogate mum, my saviour, my Morgona gone to ashes as far as I was concerned. We had all waited patiently for her return but instead just watched as the removal men took away all her furniture and the ‘For Sale’ sign came down and the new owners walked in. No-one could possibly take the place of our Morgona. She was extra special.

I used to pray for her return or try calling out to her. I never forgot her and nothing replaced the loss I felt from her parting. I heard recently she made a visit to the home but no-one told me. I had not been able to go back to that place since I left. It was too painful. 

I sang and danced. I was lucky I could do those things. I used to busk in the Edinburgh streets until Mike, the theatre manager, took me on. He said I had talent and I got a scholarship to stage school. Morgona saw things I never even knew myself. She said I’d be great and in a way I am. I sing and dance at all the West End shows now. But I still miss her. I still call out to her when I return to Scotland, when I am by the sea. I want to find her. You never forget those kind of people in your life. They are the magic ones, the ones that hold a key close to your heart and open its sacred doors. Only very few can do that. 

I will continue calling her and one day she will come to me in a strange way. I don’t believe she has passed away yet. I feel her around me, even sometimes when I am on stage I feel her presence. It haunts me.


Tonight something amazing happened. I returned to my dressing room all sweaty, make-up damp on my face, blisters beneath the ballet shoes. There was a big card stuck on the mirror where I dress. I felt a pulse beating beneath my breast somewhere, heart door opening again. A tingling rang through my spine; then the smell of an old familiar lavender perfume on the envelope. I opened it. A bright pink rose in front of a tall tree. Inside my fingers shook as I read the words: With much love from Morgona. My heart door opened a thousand times after 19 years. Tears fell from my ducts like the gentlest of waterfalls. 

I rushed to my feet, stood up and called her. Morgona! Morgona! Where are you?! Her head peered round from the stage door, eyes twinkling, wearing a bright fully brimmed hat. We ran up to each other, gave each other the biggest hug imaginable, both crying the happiest tears ever. My mum had returned from the dead. I never knew that was possible. I was the luckiest and happiest girl alive as far as I was concerned and that was the best day of my life.

Morgona remains the best friend and best mother I have ever had and for this I am truly grateful.