The last thing I saw of England, was a seagull wheeling and diving against the backdrop of an almost cloudless sky over the white chalk cliffs, as I stood on the deck of the clipper. I didn’t feel dread or fear at leaving as I had expected to.

“Are you not scared that you shall never see home again?” Robert’s voice distracted me from my thoughts, and I turned my head to see that he was standing at my side.

“I have to realise that home is not bricks and mortar,” I replied, glancing further along the rail to where Aella, Luciano and Nancy stood, chatting easily about what the future might hold for us. “As long as I have the four of you, I will always feel like I am home,” Robert squeezed my hand, the calluses easing the last vestiges of my fear.

 Copyright Emily Morris 2017

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