I found my mum's long-lost love letters (some were awkwardly sexy)

Telegraph

09-05-2025

When my mother Geraldine Flower died five years ago, aged 72, I was devastated and heartbroken. The only peace I felt was around the fact nothing had been left unsaid between us. Or so I thought.
She was an amazing, charismatic woman who drew people to her like moths to a flame. That she had enjoyed a bit of a colourful past was not a mystery. There had been nine marriage proposals (that we knew of), one poor man was left at the altar, but remained a life-long friend. There were rumours she'd once been a spy. She was naughty with a real twinkle in her eye.
But I had no idea how many secret admirers she'd actually had – until I found the letters.
Around the time of the memorial, I was sorting my mum's bedroom. Nearly 20 years ago, my husband Simon Byrt and I had bought the flat below my mum in west London. Simon's lovely and easy-going and didn't mind living below his mother-in-law – which was a good thing, as she could be tricky, but always funny at the same time. During her long illness (after recovering from breast cancer, she developed emphysema), we spent a huge amount of time together.
As I was tidying the room, I stumbled upon a leather case hidden under a chest of drawers, which I had never seen before. It was stuffed full of letters which had been sent to her in the late 1960s, 1970s and 1980s. There were love letters, poems, songs and Telexes, from all around the world, many from men who had been smitten by the woman they called 'Miss Flower'.
I felt so many different emotions looking through the contents of the suitcase. Deep grief but also love, and then shock at finding such a treasure trove of information about a person I knew so well. Some of the letters were written by friends and I knew of them already, or were from boyfriends she had stayed friends with, but most of what I found out was new. There was no guilt: she must have known I would find the letters so I didn't feel bad about reading them after her death. I know she would have done the same!
Secret assignations and coded letters
Despite initially feeling overwhelmed at my discovery, the letters soon became an amazing, exciting distraction which pulled me out of a dark, sad place. They hinted at adventures and assignations, and were proof of the power of handwritten and typed letters in an age of social media. How often do we all gaze at photos of our parents and grandparents and wonder if they were thinking, feeling people like us? This felt like a way in.
Together with Simon and our friend, singer/songwriter Emilíana Torrini, I spent long evenings going through them all. When we alighted on a funny, awkwardly sexy letter – where a lovesick admirer thinks of her as he mows the lawn ('on my mind is only one thing, a warm kiss with Geraldine Flower') – Simon and Emilíana began to compose a song. They did it to distract me and try to cheer me up. 'It just felt like a nice thing to do,' Simon told me. 'Sometimes humour can pull you out of a dark place.'
As a film publicist, I've always enjoyed a good story, both on the page and on screen, so I began researching the identities of the letter writers and tried to work out some of the interweaving stories and timelines. Some I recognised or found but many were impossible to pin down.
Some of these men treated Geraldine as their muse, pouring out their hopes and dreams. I think she was very good at rebuffing her admirers in a kind way, so they stayed friends. Her first big love was Reggie. There were more letters from him than anyone else. She moved to London because of him but she called off the wedding just a few days before – even though my grandparents had come over from Australia. But despite that they stayed friends and later he became my godfather. We spent holidays and Christmases together. Mum's 13-year-old Jack Russell, named after the late Reggie, now lives with us.
But there were other mysteries. A man from Washington DC sent coded letters to Mum, then suggested they meet at noon in front of Westminster Abbey. We Googled him, and could see that later on he became very high up in the CIA. Another was most definitely a spy. And there are a lot of people who seem to know each other in the letters.
Daily Telegraph receptionist and avid traveller
The daughter of an Irish mother and an Australian father, who met in Britain during the war, Geraldine lived an adventurous life, moving from Australia to London in 1968. She'd worked in secretarial jobs – including as a receptionist for the Daily Telegraph – did a journalism course and pitched travel stories to newspapers, before setting up her own marketing agency.
My mother was very independent. She travelled to India, Iran and all around Europe and made all these pen friends there. We even found an offer for a £200,000 (now £20 million) Caribbean island among the letters. For a moment, I thought: maybe I own an island (sadly not!).
When Mum became pregnant with me after a fling, she refused to marry out of duty. I am in occasional contact with my father (who lives in Beirut), but it was Mum who did all the hands-on nurturing, along with her circle of friends. We didn't find any letters from my dad in the suitcase.
Growing up with such a glamorous mother could be challenging. She'd say: 'This is going to be gorgeous on you darling,' and pull out a tiny lime-green mini skirt. And I'd say: 'You know I would never wear that.' But I have a very tall stylish friend Fiona (Clark) who would be given all these amazing clothes and shoes.
At my mum's memorial, we hung her collection of scarves around the room and invited guests to each take away one as a memento. A smartly dressed older male friend of hers ended up wearing her leopardskin scarf.
Turning her life into a film
Simon and Emilíana's song, Miss Flower, charmed everyone who heard it. Over the following months, Simon and Emilíana, who have written music together for years, wrote an album inspired by the letters. Emilíana also began to dream up fantastical storylines for my mum's younger years. She was very fond of Mum, having played at our wedding 15 years ago, and whenever she was on tour in London she would stay with us. Emilíana and our other friends loved to visit us, but would always pop up to her flat to chat to my mum and hear her stories. Mum loved it all.
After Emilíana released the Miss Flower album last year, it won Best Pop Album at the Icelandic Music Awards, and a film was suggested. We knew it couldn't be a documentary (we don't have any video footage of my Mum). But when Emilíana met the husband-and-wife directing team Iain Forsyth and Jane Pollard (who made the Nick Cave music documentary, 20,000 Days on Earth), they suggested combining scripted narrative episodes from Geraldine's life with performances by Emilíana and her band, together with readings from the letters by well-known actors and musician.
In the film, Geraldine is played by actress Caroline Catz (best known for TV's Doc Martin) – looking uncannily like my glamorous, chain-smoking mother. The casting all happened very organically, I had worked as a publicist for Richard Ayoade and Alice Lowe – they kindly offered to read letters. The directors obviously had Nick Cave's number (he reads a letter from an Australian boyfriend). Sophie Ellis-Bextor, a friend and neighbour, offered to help narrate the story.
What was lovely was many contributors had a link to my mother, who had a real gift for friendship throughout her life. Niall Murphy, the actor who plays a magician in the film actually worked in Geraldine's local coffee shop part-time; in her last months he brought her meals and played the fiddle for her. Costumes for the film's dancers were provided by my Mum's great friend Tempe Brickhill and the team at fashion house Issey Miyake. My first-ever summer job was at Issey Miyake, that's where I met Kate Coyne who dances in the film, alongside another friend, dancer/musician Viva Seifert.
The film was shot on a small budget over two days. A friend, Sam Dyson, founder of Distiller Music, had moved into film production and helped raised the finance. We filmed at his new studio, Distillery II, near Bristol. That meant a huge saving on costs, but it will also hopefully help spread the word about the new studio.
We have disguised the identity of lovers who we were unable to track down. It's possible that, after seeing the film, one of Geraldine's admirers will get in touch with her own letters. But obviously they're in their late 70s and 80s now.
Souvenirs of the past
Arguably, letters are souvenirs of our past, and who we hoped to be. I really want to encourage people to talk to their parents and grandparents about their early lives (and ask whether they have letters). 'It would be brilliant if we could start a narrative,' says Simon. 'Because there's a huge romance to hand-written letters that we're in danger of losing.'
The Extraordinary Miss Flower premiered in competition at the 2024 BFI London Film Festival. My friends' teenagers came along and were so excited by the idea of letter writing. The romance of it all seemed to strike a cord with them. On Friday there will be a special screening with live music at BFI Southbank, attended by many of Geraldine's (and our) friends, I just hope people enjoy the film and connect with it.
I am still grieving, of course. For the first year and a half I couldn't talk about my mum without getting upset. But making the album and then the film was a way to connect with her. These were her glory years. I love the fact she's being immortalised in her prime in a very mysterious way. My mum was always very young at heart and loved a good story. I'm sure she will be enjoying the process from wherever she is now. If anything, she would be saying there are more crazy stories you should be including.
Zoe Flower spoke to Liz Hoggard