Christmas at the Farmhouse - Rebecca Boxall Page 0,63

in his muslin. She carefully unlatched him and he remained sleeping, his cherub-like lips moving gently as though he were still feasting on milk.

I approached the bed tentatively.

‘Here, would you like a cuddle?’ Freja asked. I nodded, taking the baby and holding him to me, automatically smelling his head.

‘Are you okay?’ Freja asked.

‘The last time I held a newborn in my arms was over fifty years ago; I never wanted to hold my friends’ babies. It was just too painful. But I remember the smell, now. The smell of my baby’s head.’

Freja’s eyes welled up with tears. ‘How could such a thing have happened in supposedly civilised Britain such a short time ago? I mean, if someone burst into this room right now and told me it was time to say goodbye, when our journey – this incredible journey between my son and me – has only just begun… I can’t even bear to think about it.’ She took an audible breath. ‘Susan, did you… did you name him?’ she asked. ‘Before he was taken from you?’

I nodded. ‘That was one of the most shocking things, when your mother got in touch and referred to your father as Magnus when all my life I’ve thought of him, prayed for him, as Frank. Frank Robin, after his father.’

‘Frank,’ Freja smiled. ‘I like that. That’s what I’ll call my son. Frank.’

I looked up from the baby in surprise.

‘If you don’t mind, that is?’ Freja asked anxiously.

‘No, no I don’t mind at all,’ I said as I passed Frank back to his mother. ‘What a special thing to do for me.’

‘Well, he’s a special boy, aren’t you Frankie?’ Freja said and she held him to her chest.

I was going to tell her to keep him close like that forever, but I realised that was ridiculous. Instead, I said to her, ‘Enjoy him, won’t you? Enjoy his smiles and his tantrums; his milestones and his celebrations; enjoy every time you feel that warm, chubby hand in yours… Enjoy it all; or at least, appreciate it all. You will, won’t you?’ I asked.

‘I will,’ Freja said, her grey eyes brimming with tears again. ‘I promise.’

REFERENCES

Mother and Baby Homes c. 1960s Britain, copyright 2013 by Rose Bell (www.motherandbabyhomes.wordpress.com).

Information on the movement for an apology from the British government – https://movementforanadoptionapology.org

Scandinavian Christmas by Trine Hahnemann, published by Hardie Grant (UK), 7 Sep 2017.

Scandikitchen Christmas by Brontë Aurell, published by Ryland Peters & Small, 6 Dec 2018.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I really can’t thank my husband, Dan, enough, for his unfailing support and encouragement. My wonderful children, too – Ruby, Iris and Joey – as well as my wider family: my mum, Lorna, my late father (Dad/Diddle), my siblings and their families, my in-laws and my friends.

Special thanks are due to my fellow writer, Victoria Connelly, for her amazing support. I am also supremely grateful to my editor, Catriona Robb, and my cover designer and formatter, Jane Dixon-Smith.

Last but not least, thank you to my readers, who are one of the best parts of the job.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Rebecca Boxall was born in 1977 in East Sussex, where she grew up in a vicarage always filled with family, friends and parishioners. She now lives by the sea in Jersey with her husband, three children and Rodney the cat. She read English at the University of Warwick before training as a lawyer and also studied Creative Writing with The Writer’s Bureau. She is the bestselling author of Christmas at the Vicarage, Home for Winter, Christmas on the Coast, The Christmas Forest and Christmas by the Lighthouse and was nominated for the Romantic Novel Awards in 2020.

For more information please visit her website – www.rebeccaboxall.co.uk – or her Facebook page: www.facebook.com/christmasatthevicarage.

For your free e-book copy of Rebecca’s festive short story, A Winter’s Day, please visit www.rebeccaboxall.co.uk.

AUTHOR’S NOTE

This book was written in a ‘writer’s fever’ when I was pregnant with my third child and, as a result, it’s one that is very close to my heart. Given the subject matter it was, at times, tough to write, but once I started I found I couldn’t stop until it was finished – just days off giving birth.

In my own family history, my great, great aunt Grace became pregnant out of wedlock and her parents passed her daughter Connie off as their own, treating the two women as sisters – with history then repeating itself with Connie, whose daughter was called Margaret. But not all families were so kind, leading many women during the three decades following the Second World War to feel that they had no option but to give their babies up. As a result of the fact that they were often given poor information about benefits, and put under great pressure to have their babies adopted, there is a movement by those affected to seek an apology from the British government.

If you enjoyed this novel then I’d be really grateful if you’d consider leaving a brief review, which helps other readers to find my books.