The Baby Boy Left Behind

By Robin Gilford

Faced with banishment by her strict middle-class father, Margaret battles with the societal pressures of 1960. She is forced to undertake the hardest decision, which bitterly and painfully remains with her for the rest of her life. 

The emotive narrative is thought-provokin

• Language: English
• Publisher: Maple Publishers
• Release date: Dec 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9781835380109

Book preview

The Baby Boy Left Behind

Author: Robin Gilford

Copyright © Robin Gilford (2023)

The right of Robin Gilford to be identified as author of this work has been asserted by the author in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988.

First Published in 2023

ISBN: 978-1-83538-009-3 (Paperback)

978-1-83538-010-9 (E-Book)

Book cover design and Book layout by:

White Magic Studios

www.whitemagicstudios.co.uk

Published by:

Maple Publishers

Fairbourne Drive, Atterbury,

Milton Keynes, MK10 9RG, UK

www.maplepublishers.com

A CIP catalogue record for this title is available from the British Library.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or translated by any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system without written permission from the author.

The book is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all the names, characters, places and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental, and the Publisher hereby disclaims any responsibility for them.

Thanks

I am very grateful to Ian and Pip

who have helped with the writing

of this book.

Note to reader

The land area of New Zealand is 10%

larger than the United Kingdom.

A Google search of population figures

for 2021 reveals that New Zealand had a population of 5.1 million.

A Google search of population figures for 2021 reveals that the United Kingdom had a population of 67.3 million.

Contents

Chapter 1 6

Chapter 2 10

Chapter 3 14

Chapter 4 22

Chapter 5 33

Chapter 6 36

Chapter 7 49

Chapter 8 58

Chapter 9 67

Chapter 10 71

Chapter 11 78

Chapter 12 80

Chapter 13 84

Chapter 14 95

Chapter 15 108

Chapter 16 111

Chapter 17 115

Chapter 18 121

Chapter 19 127

Chapter 20 132

Chapter 21 137

Chapter 22 141

Chapter 23 146

Chapter 24 157

Chapter 25 164

Chapter 26 170

Chapter 27 174

Chapter 28 178

Chapter 29 184

Chapter 30 189

Chapter 31 192

Chapter 32 196

Chapter 33 205

Chapter 34 206

Chapter 35 211

Chapter 36 217

Chapter 37 223

Chapter 38 229

Chapter 39 236

Chapter 40 239

Chapter 41 243

Chapter 42 251

Chapter 43 259

Chapter 44 262

Chapter 45 277

Chapter 46 284

Chapter 47 288

Chapter 48 292

Chapter 49 300

Chapter 50 307

Chapter 51 317

Chapter 52 320

Chapter 1

Tuesday 20th February 2018, North Island, New Zealand

‘Good morning my darling, cup of tea for you,’ Graham said, stating the obvious as he placed the cup and saucer gently on the bedside table. ‘It is going to be another beautiful day.’

Susan opened her eyes and looked up at her husband. ‘I must have slept in.’

‘You were tired, my love. Not really surprising after all that you have been doing these last few months.’

Susan pulled herself up the bed and leant against the pillows. Even at this time of day she looked beautiful. ‘Have you had some breakfast? I feel dreadful not getting up earlier. Are you about to leave?’ She noticed how impeccable he looked in his crisp white shirt and smart black suit. He always dressed to the same standard.

‘I have a moment,’ he said, sitting down on the edge of the bed.

‘I didn’t sleep very well,’ she sighed.

‘I know. You were tossing and turning all night long.’

‘What I found yesterday…… you know, it played on my mind. I can’t help thinking about it.’

‘You didn’t bring it back with you?’

‘No somehow I couldn’t. I put it back in the drawer that I found it in.’

‘You have plans to go today?’

She nodded.

‘Good. If you do nothing else, bring it home and I can study it with you tonight. I have to go now. I have another busy day, a replacement knee and two plastics to sort out.’

Graham was a top surgeon at his own private clinic in Tauranga. They lived 10 miles away in Papamoa, a quiet beachside town. It was an upmarket and picturesque place to live. Their extensive villa was situated on the outskirts slightly raised above the town which afforded them wonderful coastal views.

‘A replacement knee and some plastic surgery,’ Susan repeated her husband’s itinerary for the day. ‘That will keep you busy,’ she said in a good humoured manner.

‘Are you bringing anything back today? Do you need the SUV?’ Graham asked, rising to his feet. He bent forward to kiss his wife goodbye.

‘No,’ she smiled. ‘Thank you, my car will be fine. I’ll be going over mid morning. I have a few things to attend to here first. I shall only be sorting Mum’s clothes today. The charity shop said that they would collect them in a few days….. on Friday I think.’

‘Don’t work too hard,’ he smiled as he opened the door. ‘See you later.’

Susan pondered for a moment. The house was silent after she heard her husband reverse out of the garage and drive off down the road.

I had better get up, she thought. Jenny and Tom will be here in a moment. Jenny Taylor was their housekeeper and Tom Beckett their gardener. Both were employed on a Monday and Tuesday. A Friday was added into their schedule if visitors were expected at the weekend.

It was now Tuesday and Susan’s week had started rather unexpectedly with a letter that she had found while sorting through her late mother’s bedroom chest of drawers.

She got up and walked to the window. She contemplated opening the sliding glass door and walking onto the terrace for some fresh air, but she realised that time was now not on her side. She entered the ensuite and showered quickly. Life had to continue, she told herself as she dressed in jeans and a T-shirt. She made her way to the kitchen where she prepared some muesli and fresh fruit in a bowl. She turned on the coffee machine and sat down.

It was now nine o’clock and the sun was streaming in through the big glass panes that overlooked the garden.

At that moment she heard the outside door closing in the utility room and Jenny appeared, ‘Good morning Mrs Reynolds. I’ve brought those tomatoes that we were talking about last week. It’s going to be another warm day.’ She placed a large wicker basket on the kitchen work top. ‘They are a very good crop this year. Ben is so pleased.’ Ben was Jenny’s husband. She was in her thirties and had worked for Susan and Graham for the past 5 years. She was of slim build with shoulder length brown hair and a pretty complexion. The part time hours suited her lifestyle with her family commitments and child care.

‘That’s so kind of you. Thank you. I was wondering, would you be able to help me next Monday with the final cleaning at my mother’s house? It should be empty by then. The charity shop is making a final collection at the end of this week.’

‘Yes, that’s no problem. I‘ll come here first and then you can show me the way,’ she paused. ‘Usual Tuesday things today?’

‘Yes please, I will wait until Tom arrives and then I will be off to Mum’s. I will be glad when it’s all over. It’s very tiring both mentally and physically, so many memories wrapped up there.’ She finished her breakfast and coffee and made her way to load the dishwasher.

‘I’ll make a start.’ Jenny left the room carrying the vacuum cleaner.

Susan busied herself getting ready to leave the house and was just reversing her sports cabriolet out of the garage, when Tom pulled up in his pick up truck. They had a brief discussion regarding continuing the pruning and tidying of the shrubs at the lower end of the garden near the boundary and then she was off. She had lowered the roof. She loved the feel of the wind in her hair. Forty minutes later she parked on the drive where her mother had lived. The road was quiet and empty and it seemed like a good place to contemplate for a moment.

Chapter 2

It had been a glorious summer and now as the season cycle slowly clicked towards the autumn, she reflected on the summer that had passed. There had been the usual barbecues and family gatherings with her younger brother, James and his wife Zara on the beach or at her home in the large garden. Her own daughter and son, Abigail and Joe and her nephews, Michael and Arthur, who were all married, had their own lives and joined in the gatherings when their time permitted. They were a close knit family who helped and supported each other.

It was Susan, being the elder, who had very distant memories of England that she had left behind when she was eight. She remembered playing in the garden of their home in a London suburb and the swing that had been erected on her fourth birthday. She had bitterly lamented the fact that she had not been allowed to take her prized possession, her bicycle, to New Zealand. Her father had firmly said that there really was no room for it in their luggage allowance on the Northern Star liner. It had transported them and their most immediate and prized belongings to their new life on the other side of the world. She and James, who was four years younger, had formed a close bond on that lengthy journey. This had continued on as they settled in the new and strange surroundings, as the family integrated into a different life.

Eventually it had all been a success and Margaret and John, their parents, were pleased with their decision to uproot themselves and their children, leave parents and other family members behind and start again. New Zealand had been a place which had wanted young families to help shape and develop the future of the country.

Margaret and John had done just that. After a long and happy marriage John had passed away in 2005 and a year later Margaret had moved to a smaller house on the edge of Tauranga. She had been happy and settled in her new home, creating a wonderful garden and enjoying visits from her enlarging family and circle of friends. Now twelve years later, as she had grown physically weaker, Susan and James had taken on extra duties helping her as everyday tasks became more of an impossibility. Her mind, however, was as sharp as ever.

Reluctantly at the start of the summer in September, Margaret had moved into a residential care home, after she had finally agreed that she was no longer able to cope in her own home. She had taken a few momentos and paintings to her room and the house had been locked up. She never returned.

Susan, James and their respective families watched as old age and diminishing capacity gathered pace and finally took its toll. She bore her situation with grace and stoicism and managed to smile at all her family and guests when they visited. She was a model guest always making an effort to look stylish and immaculate.

Thankfully for her the end came quickly after a terminal cancer discovery. She only lasted a week after that. Pain relief was administered and she had a peaceful end. It was hard for her family to fully comprehend any pain or discomfort that she might have been in, before her diagnosis. It was a shock for many of them that she departed so quickly and it was only Susan, Graham, James and Zara who fully understood the situation.

After the funeral and cremation, Margaret’s ashes had been scattered to the winds from her favourite beach early one Sunday morning at the start of the year. The family had gathered to say goodbye to the matriarch who had now relinquished that position and handed it to Susan. It had been a sunny morning with just the shore birds for company. The tide had been out and Margaret would have relished the time and place.

Susan and James had met at their mother’s former home a week later to decide what they were going to do with the property and its contents. As Susan did not work it was agreed between them that Susan would manage the sorting.

Over the last few weeks the family members had gathered and taken away what they had wanted. Valuables had been sold separately and the remaining items had mostly now been collected by various charities.

Susan had been making this journey almost on a daily basis for the last six weeks. She had not minded these duties feeling that it was only correct and proper that they should fall to her.

She was pleased that she could see the light at the end of the tunnel for it had been a mixed journey evoking many differing emotions and memories. Margaret had not been a hoarder. As Susan had found out as she had opened cupboards and drawers, the items inside had obviously been kept because they held very dear and special memories. Her mother had always been a well organised and ordered person and as Susan picked up the items, she realised why the item had been kept. Some reminded her of her childhood and England. A few were things that she and James had made and presented at birthdays or Christmas.

The last room to be sorted was Margaret’s bedroom. Susan had left this to the end as she felt that it might be the hardest and create the most emotional upset. After what she had found yesterday she might well be right.

Chapter 3

‘Is everything alright Mrs Reynolds?’

Susan looked up when she heard the voice. She came to from her thoughts but wasn’t sure who had spoken, such was the deepness of her insights. The sun was in her eyes and even though she had her sunglasses on, she still couldn’t determine the person.

‘Oh it’s you Roger. I’m so sorry, I was miles away,’ she said at last realising that it was the postman. He continued to stand there perhaps wishing for clarification that she was okay. ‘Yes, I’m fine.’ At this point she looked at the clock in the car and saw to her horror that it was midday.

‘I saw you sitting there when I went down the road half an hour ago and to find you still in the same place, I thought that maybe you were feeling unwell.’

‘I am quite alright thank you,’ she said, opening the car door and climbing out. ‘I was carried away thinking about it all. So much has happened and it’s all rather emotive.’ She tried to make light of how deep her feelings had run that morning. To add to that, she was faced with something unknown inside the house. ‘Thank you for asking Roger, what post do you have for me today?’

‘Just a few.’ He handed them over. ‘I am relieved that you are ok. I thought I might have been calling for an ambulance. Are you nearly finished inside?’

‘Yes, we hope to be putting the house up for sale very soon.’

‘I wish you all the very best. It is a stressful time.’ He smiled and walked back down the drive.

Always good to have a friendly postman, Susan thought as she unlocked the front door and went inside. He had been kind to her mother over the years, just little things like a ‘good morning’ and ‘everything alright?’ when he had seen her.

Susan was grateful for the coolness of the interior. She had become hot having sat in the glaring sunshine. She went to the kitchen and filled the kettle and a glass with water in order to make some coffee. I’m going to deal with this, she told herself firmly, whatever it is, even if I do nothing else today.

She poured the boiling water onto the coffee grounds in the cafetiere and carried it through to the conservatory. There was one folding chair that had been left in the house for the sole purpose of when one was eating a sandwich between the sorting. This was not a home anymore. Susan had moved on from the feelings and memories that at first had been there. Except for the bedroom which still contained a wardrobe, chest of drawers, bedside cabinets and a double bed.

She unfolded the chair and deftly made her way to the bedroom. She hesitated at the door. Everything was how she had left it yesterday. The room was darkened and she pushed the curtains aside allowing bright sunlight to enter.

She sat down on what had been her mother’s side of the bed as she had done the previous day. She ignored the top two drawers. She had already emptied those of her mother’s jewelry. Now she pulled open the lowest and parted the neatly folded pristine white underwear. There it was just as she had returned it yesterday, an envelope addressed to her mother at her previous address. It must have importance and relevance if Mum had kept it, brought it with her and kept it somewhere safe and private. She did not recognise the handwriting. Now she noticed that it had English stamps on it, and whilst this had not meant much to her at this same point the day before, it did now. There was no reason why there shouldn’t be a letter from England amongst her mother’s belongings. It was the contents that provided the mystery.

She removed the envelope, rearranged the underwear and closed the drawer. She walked quickly to the window, drew the curtains and left the room.

Susan retraced her steps to the conservatory. She was now a woman on a mission. Having sat down and had a sip of coffee, she proceeded to examine the envelope more thoroughly.

She looked at the postmark and could just distinguish the words Exeter and the year, 2004. The rest of the date had worn away over the years. She thought for a moment, Mum had mentioned Exeter in the past, but she couldn’t remember in what context. Was this relevant? The name and address had nothing untoward about them, being carefully handwritten. Whatever was coming to light here, was something very close and dear to Margaret. She turned the envelope over. She had been in such a hurry the day before that she had not taken notice of the sender’s details, but these did not shed much light either, as they referred to an address in Torbay. That still did not ring any bells in Susan’s mind.

As she parted the envelope, she was reminded of how her mother had always used a letter opener. She could visualise that now in its place in the bureau. Her mind wandered as it brought back happy memories. Who had that been passed to? She pondered, yes, to her son, Joe. It has gone to a good home, careful tidy Joe.

She returned to the present and pulled out the thin airmail paper that the letter had been written on. I haven’t seen this in years, she thought, nobody writes letters now, but then Mum didn’t have an email address. She had made the decision not to embrace modern technology. Susan wondered at this stage if there were any other connected letters.

The address at the top of the flimsy paper was the same as the one on the back of the envelope. The letter started, Dear Margaret. It must be from someone who knew her, a friend perhaps, but that did not tie up with what she had read yesterday. It was a mystery. She read the rest of the letter straight through to gain an overall view. It was brief and to the point from someone telling Margaret not to worry and that all had worked out well in their life. It finished with, all good wishes, Charles.

Susan took another sip of her coffee and read the letter again and then again. Now it was all too obvious what this letter was referring to. Susan was not sure that she could believe what she had just surmised. It did not seem possible, and yet it had to be. There could be no other conclusion.

She thought about her mother and the sort of person that she was. She had always been there for both James and herself. Now as she looked back, she could see that at first her mother had struggled with the integration. She had been a very private person and had found it hard to mix with all the strangers who had arrived with them and in the next few months. Susan thought back to the very early days when they lived in that little house. They were all new then. Her dad was busy with his own work and spent many extra hours at the office proving his worth, which enabled them to move to a bigger house in a better area.

Her mother had concentrated on her and James and their home, making sure that their transition was as smooth as possible. She had been a kind and patient mother. It was obvious that she loved them both very much, instilling in them good manners and the correct way to behave. Birthdays and Christmases had come and gone and had been celebrated with tea parties and turkey. Cards and presents had come from England and gradually the family began to adapt to a different culture and saw New Zealand as home.

Susan remembered how Margaret had always been subservient to her husband who was considerably older. Perhaps, she had done what her father had said in connection with the person mentioned in the letter. The more she thought about it, the more she became convinced that her mother must have been strongly encouraged in her actions.

Margaret had always been a demure woman, who liked to stay in the background rather than push herself forward. She would help out at local events and charities but preferred to wash the tea cups, or bake a cake for a local sale rather than stand on a stall where she would have had to interact with other people.

She had a few friends and those that she did have were very close to her but somehow even they never seemed to manage to break through the tough outer shell that she had developed. She was, however, always there for her friends.

A week or so after her death, Susan had remarked to James in passing just as a comment how ‘Mother had always been a bit of a tough cookie.’ It had only been an observation, but now as she thought about it more, she wondered if the contents of the letter had anything to do with it.

Margaret had been a polite woman and her children had never seen her publicly row with anyone. They had not seen her argue with their father either, even when they had seen that she was right. She spent her days quietly pursuing her home hobbies, which consisted of baking, growing fruit, vegetables and flowers and jam making. She left the mowing, pruning and hedge cutting to their father.

There wasn’t much physical affection shown in the home, but Susan and James always knew that their mother and father loved each other.

Susan’s thoughts and recollections of her mother seemed rather contradictory to the sort of person that she felt she had read about in the letter. She decided that as there now appeared to be a great many unanswered questions, she would continue with sorting the bedroom. There was not much else that she could do until Graham had seen it and added his thoughts. They would discuss it later that evening. There was just one little nagging thought that played on Susan’s mind for the rest of that afternoon. Did Charles know that Margaret had passed away? Perhaps he had a right to know.

Susan put the letter back in its envelope and placed it in her handbag. She would try not to think about it again until she had let Graham read it. It had remained a silent mystery for all this time. Another few hours would not make any difference. She would now concentrate on the other matter in hand, the bedroom.

She knew the extent of her mother’s clothes. There was not a great deal to sort and as she emptied the furniture she was aware that her previous attitude towards her recently departed mother had slightly changed. It was not that the love had lessened. She told herself that she was still the same person that she had always known, or was she? Did that letter change everything or did