Thanks for all this, JM! I'll check it out asap.
Meanwhile, Jm, Sue, Babs - I got to the interesting bit of Dad's memoir this morning. It's brief enough to post right here:
"It was while I was working in Kent that I learned from my mother that Addie’s daughter Marjorie had come to England and was staying with Uncle Frank and Auntie Vi at 129, Empress Avenue, Ilford (P: Yes!!!). Uncle Frank was Mother’s second eldest brother, and Autie Vi was the cousin of Addie Leigh who had been the means of my introduction to Marjorie on my arrival at Sydney.
I was very excited at the prospect of meeting again the girl I had fallen in love with seven years earlier and whom I had never expected to see again. I rang up my aunt and asked if I could call. The inevitable happened - I was back again deeply, madly in love with this beautiful creature.
Marjorie had come over to study at a well known theatrical dance tuition studio (P: the Imperial School of Teachers of Dancing, still going strong in 2019) and also to study singing. She had divorced her husband (P: not quite, Dad!) and was now following in the footsteps of her mother. She was very ambitious, but also very practical and was prepared to work hard at her chosen profession. She was extremely pretty - a true redhead, full of energy and very affectionate to those she liked. I spent every moment of my free time in her company; I used every argument in the book to convince her that she should marry me. And marry me she did; in a registry office, on June 1st 1933.
On the way back from the wedding I stopped the car outside the Times Furnishing showrooms in Oxford Street to arrange for the furniture to be delivered whilst we were away on honeymoon to the flat we had rented; but when we returned to the car, the two suitcases packed with all my wife’s belongings, including one very valuable piece of jewellery, had been stolen.
It was never recovered. Insurance paid about one-twentieth of the value.
The marriage was a disaster.
I could not give Marjorie any satisfaction. She was very over-sexed, and this acted on me like a deterrent, although I was otherwise quite normal. I became inhibited, and after seven months (P: maybe only four, Dad?) She went and bought a ticket to Cape Town, and left me. (P: No doubt to rejoin Mr. Wallace with his Rhodesian gold mine, whom she must already have met.)"
When she was at the Ilford address with my great-uncle she was *already listed as Mrs. Marjorie E Wallace.* The woman was totally irresponsible! How did Dad not know that? Why didn't anyone in the family realise what was going on? Baffling!
Pam
