This page is has the opening paragraphs of my memoir The Baby Box.

If you would like to read more go to any good bookshop – when they are open –  or to Amazon to buy the Ebook.

Happy reading.

Monday 21 December 1964

The house of Commons votes for the abolition of the death penalty. I’ve got more to worry about than the life of murderers. I’ve got my own life to save.

My mother says, ‘If you’d cut me up in little pieces, you couldn’t have hurt me more.’

It’s Christmas Eve and we’re in our lounge, alone. I’m used to my mother’s sharp tongue. She’s been using it against me since I reached puberty.

‘Stand up straight. You walk along, your shoulders hunched up, your neck sticking out like an ostrich.’

‘Who said you could use lipstick? With that stuff smeared all over your mouth, you look like a trollop.’

My latest crime is much worse than stooping as I walk or experimenting with makeup. This is a life-changing crisis. There can be no going back.

Mum is staring at me, blinking, but not to keep her tears back. She blinks when she’s so angry she can hardly control herself. Her anger is all my fault. I watch her, not knowing what to say.

I wish I could turn the clock back to just over a week ago.


And on the next page you will turn the clock back.

Did I make the right decision? It’s an age-old question.