Harold Beatty and Betty Reid (daughter of William Sydney and Lilian Reid of “Redhaven”, 60 Broadway, Camberwell) had married at the Melbourne Grammar chapel in February 1933. He was 25 and Betty 21. At the time he was an apprentice engineer at ELCON.
A few days before their wedding Betty wrote: “Darling I do hope that I can make you happy and that you will never regret that you are going to marry me. I think we understand each other a good deal more than most people do when they first get married … I love you with all my heart darling and I will be very proud to be your wife”.
They set up home together first at 21 Highfield Rd, Canterbury, and in Feb 1937 bought 15 Stanhope Grove, East Camberwell. In their early years they seem to have been fairly happy. They usually had a maid to help with the work and went on holidays about twice per year. But Betty had married a complex, passionate and driven man who spent a lot of weekends adventuring with friends rather than with his family, though she seemed to be understanding. She wrote from holidaying in Peterborough? when their first child (Gay) was a toddler: “I wonder how your party will get on tonight. I do hope that you have got them something to eat and drink … I wonder will you be up here on Saturday night. Don’t worry if it is inconvenient for you but please let me know whatever you are doing … I do love you darling and miss you frightfully”. On their wedding anniversary in February 1940 she wrote: “Many happy returns of the day. I’m sorry that I am not there to spend the day with you. … I am still hoping that you will come down next weekend”.
Tragedy struck when their 3 year old son David died 7 April 1941. Harold seemed the worst affected. He was put on a month’s sick leave and went to stay with Betty’s uncle, Tom Ayre, at Moroco West station near Deniliquin, throwing himself into station work. 26 April 1941 Betty wrote: “I feel that we are slowly becoming accustomed to things … Remember that I am always thinking about you and hoping that you are getting yourself back to a more normal outlook. Goodnight darling, All my love”. And 7 May 1941: “The last few days have been bad ones for me. I have felt terribly depressed, but as Dr. Campbell says, it would be humanly impossible to have gone through what we did and not have any reaction … no doubt I will feel better again in a while”.
Harold took many years to recover from this loss, and became increasingly restless and dissatisfied with city life and there are signs in Betty’s letters that their relationship was strained. She wrote from “Grantulla” (a guest house in the Dandenongs?) 11 Sep 1942, giving instructions for the food order for her return to Stanhope Grove and saying: “I really do miss you. Probably not in the way that you would want me to, nevertheless I do miss you horribly. Lots of love darling, yours ever”.
In August 1944 Harold left on a three month visit to Three Hummock Island intending to find out if a property could be acquired there. 4 Sep 1944 Betty wrote from Stanhope Grove giving details of the many friends (including his own father) who were shocked and hurt that he had left without letting them know. “Well my dear, I hope you will come back feeling a very different person. The exercise and outdoor work should do you a lot of good”. 3 Oct 1944: “I did not want to put him [Uncle Tom] to any trouble whatever over it [Harold had left his saddle at Moroco West] as you did not even bother to go and visit him when he was ill”. And regarding the first birthday of their second daughter: “It is such a pity you are missing her at this age. Most people seem very taken with her”.
Immediately on return from Three Hummock Island Harold started looking for a property closer to home. 21 Jan 1945 Harold and Betty, Harold’s father Archie Beatty, Bob Nunn and Gerald Dallimore went up to Taggerty to look at a property which was for sale. (1) Ten days later Betty wrote to Harold from holiday in Peterborough, hoping that he was not caught up in the ban on gas producers and: “I would be interested to know if you have done any more about the place at Taggerty. I suppose it is too much to expect to ask you to let me know if you have bought it and what you are doing … You can always have a meal at Redhaven so long as you let them know beforehand, although I have no doubt you won’t bother. My love to you and regards to Gerald.” A few days later the property at Taggerty, later named “Enniscrone” had been been bought. Betty to Harold 3 Feb 1945: “Now that you have things definitely fixed up … you should be able to start relaxing and thinking as you say you will when you are on the land”
Harold resigned from his job as a research engineer with ELCON and with his friend Gerald moved up to the farm immediately, but it was almost a year before the house was ready for Betty and the girls. Betty to Harold 20 Jan 1946 from Stanhope Grove: “How very lucky I am. A husband who loves me, two children who give me so much love and pleasure… Maybe now that you are away from me for a few days you will realise this too, how much I love you … I do hope that you are sleeping darling and that your nerves are feeling more rested”. 24 Jan 1946: “I am sorry that you are feeling lonely darling … How lovely it will be to settle down in our own home again”.
Harold had bought a mob of sheep from a drought area which were starving and suffering from black disease. Many died and Harold skinned them “working day and night”. This was depressing for him, but the profit from the sale of both the skins and the healthy survivors allowed him later to buy 17 grade Jersey cows (from Bogong stud?) on their first calf. (2)
He also engaged a couple, Mr and Mrs Price as help. Betty went up to arrange furniture for their accommodation. A few days before she and the girls moved to “Enniscrone” she wrote: “I do hope that you are feeling better darling and not so depressed. Try and find a bright side of things to look on. My love to you darling” His daughter Gay wrote: “Dear Daddy, Wen are we going home? How is Sooky is he still a calf? I hope no more shep have died. Have you seen my school master yet? I have not painted any more pichers yet. from your loving daughter Gay.”
A week or so later the family moved up to Enniscrone in time for Gay (aged 9) to start the school year at Taggerty State School, probably in grade 4 or 5. She was happy at the little school and absolutely loved being with her Daddy and having Enniscrone as her home. (4)
In later years I asked Harold what exactly had gone wrong that ended his first marriage. This is his account: Around late May 1946 Harold was operated on for a Hernia. Gerald Dallimore was helping on the farm at the time. Harold was supposed to stay in bed, but one evening struggled up to join the others in the living room. He found Betty “in a clinch with the hired hand”. He loved, even adored Betty and had no interest in any other woman. He ordered Gerald to leave immediately never to return, and made Betty promise to have no further contact with him. The words Harold used in describing this incident betray the level of hurt he must have felt as Gerald (who was English) was actually a good friend of his, mentioned as such several times in Peg’s diary, for at least the previous six years. Betty and Harold tried to get on with their lives, but 4 July 1946 Harold intercepted an undated airmail letter addressed to Mrs H.A.P. Beatty. He recognised the hand as Gerald’s and evidently felt entitled to open it.
The letter, from Dickoya, Ceylon (which Betty never received but which Harold kept forever) seems fairly innocuous: “My dear Betty, Your parcel arrived today, indeed a pleasant surprise. The map is grand and the fountain pen. It’s very sweet of you Betty. Thank you very much. I intended writing before this. The whole trouble is that I just don’t know how to write to you. Actually I have made many attempts, but somehow I finish up tearing it to pieces. Well how do you like being a farmer’s wife? I do hope to god you are happy and that you have really settled down and things are going along smoothly for you … Please do write when you have time and can capture the mood. Please give my kindest regards to anyone who may make enquiries and to both yourself and Harold. Yours etc. Gerald”
Harold experienced this as a second betrayal, evidence that she had disobeyed him, and for him the last straw. His emotional turmoil was compounded when his father Archie Beatty died three weeks later on August 1 1946. Betty offered sympathy and for a while they reconciled, but something had been destroyed for Harold, and, he said, he was convinced that his marriage was over. Despite still being attracted to Betty, he would never be able to trust her again. He felt utterly distraught, tormented and miserable and could see no solution but divorce. (5)
There is no record of what Betty thought about this. She never mentioned Gerald in any subsequent letters. There are always two sides to a story, but apparently she never told her side even to her daughters. In her letters she sounds puzzled at the relationship breakdown, and distressed and hurt later when Harold asked for a divorce. Whatever happened with Gerald, she clearly didn’t find it such an obstacle to their happiness as Harold did. Going by her letters she had often found Harold uncommunicative, and she was a city girl far from her family and friends, as Harold worked extremely long hours on the farm Betty was often left alone, without even a telephone. Possibly neither Betty nor Gerald realised that Harold included letters in his ban on contact between them?
Betty, now expecting another baby, left Enniscrone 6 Feb 1947, taking the girls with her to her parents home, Redhaven, enrolling Gay as a boarder at MCEGGS junior school. 12 Feb 1947 she wrote: “Darling, … I left Gay at Wildfell this afternoon … she was extremely good poor child and did not make the slightest fuss … I do hope she’ll be alright and not too homesick. … Dr. Kenna does not want me to go back up there until after the baby is born except to get my clothes etc. … I know that you will not mind as it is quite obvious to me that you are absolutely fed up with me and it will be a nice change for you … My love to you darling, and for heavens sake forget about how much I annoy and upset you. Try and write Gay a few lines, she would be terribly thrilled if you did. Yours ever, Betty.” On their wedding anniversary she wrote: “Darling, you should get this on Sat Feb 15th. I have no doubt that you do not wish to have many happy returns of the last 14 years, so I can only say darling that I hope our 15th year will be the beginning of a new and happy era.” Harold’s sister Peg had arranged a farewell party before leaving the Beatty family home “Enniscrone”, Mont Albert which was sold after the death of their father. Betty wrote to Harold 18 Feb 1947: “Peg seemed to be expecting you down for her party on March 1st. You should try and make the effort as I think Peg would very much like you to be there.” And 28 Feb 1947: “Harold my dear, It is quite obvious that you are not in the least anxious to see me … and I do not want to upset you in any way … It would be a waste of energy and money to make the trip up there. … Strange though it seems it does matter to me how you are, and I am interested in all that goes on up there … My love to you darling, and look after yourself. Betty.” 25 March 1947 she urges him to urgently sign papers to do with the Mont Albert sale so as not to inconvenience Peg further and “Harold my dear, as I have not heard of you since yesterday week I have no idea what you are doing and hope to heaven that all is well up there”
But 22 March 1947 Harold had met Elva Jones.
Elva, aged 32 was on holiday at Marysville with a friend, Maisie Seagrove, who worked with her in the NSW Railway Department at Wynyard in Sydney. They had used their free first class rail passes to get to Melbourne, and finding all the popular tourist spots booked, took a bus to Marysville which they had never heard of. They found the Marysville Hotel restful, the village pretty, had some good walks, and in the evenings enjoyed trying to work out the origin and background of people who would come in for dinner.
“Here comes your fate Elva!” said Maisie one evening. Elva looked up to see a tall, good looking, well dressed man being shown to their table. “My first impression was that he had seen better days – certainly happier ones.” (3) He told them that he had a farm about 20 miles away and that his married couple were away for a week, and asked how much longer they would be at the hotel. The night before they were due to leave he came again to have dinner and told Elva he would like to talk to her so they went for a drive. Elva was a warm, friendly, sympathetic person and a very good listener. She listened, appalled, to his whole sad story including the loss of his son David and his failed marriage. He told her how his wife “had not adjusted to living in the country, indeed hated it” (3), and about their falling out and his loss of trust in Betty, the new baby expected, but that no matter what happened he would never give up the farm. The situation sounded completely hopeless and Elva said she could only suggest that he should go to Melbourne and try to sort something out.
They hadn’t exchanged addresses, but Elva wondered how he had fared in Melbourne and remembered that his farm was at Thornton so dropped him a line. “He wrote back with great alacrity.” (3) Her initial note hasn’t survived, but here’s his reply from Thornton, 29 March 1947: “My dear nice thing – I know that’s a completely inadequate form of address, but I’m endeavouring to keep my adjectives under control. Now first of all, I hardly ever write letters, and if I do I try to make them literary masterpieces of grammar, punctuation, phraseology etc., but this going to be utterly spontaneous, and therefore, like my mind at present, chaotic, incoherent, but definitely sincere, or isn’t it possible for an incoherent mind to be sincere? I can’t think that one out, so never mind, but you know what I mean. Incidentally, you probably won’t be able to read a word of this because of my writing, not to mention spelling which I’m not considering at all – it interrupts self-expression too much – so you will probably have to come straight back here to get me to read this to you, and that’s just what I want. Why did I ever let you go so soon? I could easily have arranged for you to stay on … but I was in a complete daze, and didn’t properly realise until Wednesday (I spent all day Tuesday with a sore ankle just trying to think) that you had gone. I didn’t have your address … but anyhow I can certainly say that it is a good few years since I have felt such utter joy as I did when I saw your letter in the mail tonight – now wait a minute, I’m not in love with you (or perhaps my definition of the word is wrong) but I like very much what I know of you, and I want to know a whole lot more, and I know you have some feeling for me, and that’s what I need desperately. I want to talk with you and walk with you and see things with you and do you like the musty smell of wet dead leaves and the bitter smoke of wood, and raindrops in flowers, and thunder clouds, and soft furs to touch & grassy shade in summer, and hard wet sand to walk on, and the purple-tinted foam of broken waves, and are you fond of children and ballet & birds and oh hell darling (censor) we don’t seem to have talked about anything much at all, so you see you must come back … Little elf, don’t let me down, I need you. Harold. PS enclosed cheque ten pounds towards expenses.”
Enclosed with the letter was a Harold sonnet:
To my little elf
One day, when crushed with melancholic thought And not a soul to cheer me from that state, I faced with dread th'ensuing night, and sought A place where youth and jollity held fete I met her there, my little woodland elf With candid eyes and lovely smiling mouth, And dainty waist and feet and hands, herself Th'embodiment of jollity and youth. We walked and laughed and talked of many things And supped and danced and kissed as ne'er before, Till suddenly we found that time had wings And we must part, perchance to meet no more. But when she'd gone I knew that could not be. I needed her, and - p'rhaps she needed me.
Elva typed her reply from her workplace in Sydney, 2 April 1947: “My dear Harold, Forgive me, but since I must have speed I mount my fiery steed. I know it’s inexcusable. I was delighted with your letter… There’s no doubt about it, a poet was lost in you. I like every one of those things you mention. Didn’t we discuss any of them? I want to see you every bit as much as you want to see me (I’m not in love with you either) ... I’m practically bankrupt [and] I would need to take advantage of your financial assistance (sounds bad). BUT I couldn’t stay at your place … it wouldn’t be the thing to do and would prejudice people against you … and a little inner voice tells me that while you are still legally tied your home is your wife’s and I have no place there. Does that sound stuffy? I hope you don’t think so. … So you nursed your sore ankle all Tuesday. I was in a daze too; I didn’t do a thing about getting the train seats at Melbourne. I left it all to Maisie. I was wishing all the way home that I had had a chance to know you better. Isn’t that strange? … Yours in haste, Elva. In handwriting she wrote 8 April 1947 from her parents’ home 10 Chester St, Petersham, arranging to get by train and bus to the Marysville Hotel again on 19 April: “You write a lovely, fluent letter. You’re wise to stick to the poetic and spontaneous – it’s your forte. You’re wrong in one particular. I’m really not angelic … I’ve been known to kick a telephone that wouldn’t work … It’s all over very quickly I’m glad to say. … I will come as an act of friendship. Anything else, in your present situation, would be out of the question, as you know well of course… I can see a funny side to this forthcoming trip. My father and mother are quite fluttery and nervous about it. I think it’s because I’ve never made a fool of myself yet and they’re afraid I’m going to start at this late stage.“
Elva returned to stay at Marysville Hotel for a week April 19-25 1947, this time with her friend Auriel Goode (who took the photo below), and visited Enniscrone for the first time. On returning to Sydney Elva wrote, presumably in reply to something Harold had said, 30 April 1947: “It wasn’t the sherry, or the champagne, or even the brandy lime & sodas. It was you. So please, no cynicism.” And he wrote c. 4 May 1947 “Goodnight my glorious new life. How I wish you were waiting in there for me now. I love you darling.” just over 5 weeks after they first met. So it was rather more of a whirlwind romance than we were led to believe by them telling us they had fallen in love by correspondence!
Harold and Elva putting on the lawn at Enniscrone on her first visit, late April 1947
To make things as easy as possible for Betty, Harold wanted to wait until after the baby was born before telling her that he wanted a divorce (not sure whether that helped!). Betty wrote the following from Gracedale Private Hospital 12 May 1947: “Darling, Dad came over to see me … and dropped the bomb which has been hanging over my head for many months now … I feel completely shattered, red raw and bleeding, but I suppose that like everything else, I shall get over it … You have been so very chilling to me ever since I came down … I do not think that I can be quite as hard and cold as you always say I am. If so I could not feel as deeply hurt … I know I will never be what you apparently wanted me to be … May God bless you and make you happy. My love to you always, Betty”
The same day Harold wrote Betty a poem:
You were my first and youthful love; A love that was a glowing fire Unceasingly renewable By essences of sweet essential you Your sweetness was a fragile flower That found my passionate burning flame Exhaustingly insatiable And withered in the heat of its desire Your wilted flower was fading fast Another brought a cooling draught Spontaneously acceptable Of love that gave you comfort when it came Fierce jealousy consumed me now And made my conflagration grow Destructively unquenchable And finally destroy the love it sought My heart is mended once again And glowing with a different flame Transcendently incomparable Is that which burnt for you not long ago
Betty’s mother, Lilian Reid died 14 June 1947. She had, perhaps understandably, been furious with Harold and had written a letter cursing him. Betty wrote to Harold a few days after her mother’s death: “Darling, I did appreciate your calling to see me on Wednesday though I did ask Peg to tell you not to come under any circumstances. Dad expressed the wish that nobody should come to Mother’s funeral except the family, and as you are no longer considered a member of the family by any of my close relations … Thank god that I was able to offer you comfort and loving sympathy in the times of your grief and sorrow. … Saturday: Today I received a poem from you. Thank you my dear. … Monday: So you have written me a poem. Perhaps someday I shall write you a short story”
There was no such thing as “no fault divorce” in 1947. But no matter who instigated the divorce it was considered the gentlemanly thing for the man to take the blame. By late May Betty had consented to sue for divorce. 26 May 1947 Elva to Harold: “One thing that pleases me very much is that you and Betty will part amicably and without any bitterness and will remain friends”. This was a very trying time for all of them. Harold needed to confess to being unfaithful to Betty, but Elva, who was a strict Anglican, would have no sex before marriage. Elva tried some grim humour in a letter to Harold 30 June 1947, the earliest letter addressed to “Enniscrone” and not just Thornton: “We must look around for a well-conducted and hygenic brothel… I will personally select a likely-looking wench for you. I believe Madame Pompadour used to perform this service for Louis XV when she wasn’t feeling up to the mark herself.” She was very anxious about the way people would react, especially Harold’s sister Peg. Elva to Harold 13 May 1947: “For the first time in my life I’m feeling uneasy so far as other people are concerned. I’ve never been patronised or snubbed, people have always liked me. Doesn’t the mere fact that I’m willing to risk these things prove with certainty that I love you?” She had to win over her parents: Elva to Harold 23 May 1947: “My mother is now completely reconciled to the fact that her erstwhile sensible daughter is in love … My dear father is still trying to insulate me against a setback. How he’d hate me to be hurt!” and in the same letter: “Your reference to the lack of lovemaking really has me worried … It will be the acid test of your love for me … surely our ultimate happiness is worth any temporary discomfort or sacrifice…” Harold went to Sydney to meet Theodore and Ada Jones in early June. Elva to Harold 5 June 1947: “My mother and father both miss you very much and hope you will be back before long. You created a very favourable impression there”
Betty wrote to Harold 1 July 1947: “Darling, this is probably the last letter that I shall write to you as my beloved husband as I hear that things are starting now though very slowly. Oh darling, how very sad and depressed I am, this horrible, sordid business; however I have had plenty of time to think in the last two months or so, and quite realise now that I have always loved you far more than you loved me and things never work out that way … I want to thank you for all the sweet things you did for me during our married life …”. 17 July 1947 Elva to Harold: “I’m glad the confession business is over, and also the business of dispatching furniture, not to mention the matter of the maintenance.” However it wasn’t quite that simple. There was hurt on both sides, and inevitably some bitter words were exchanged between Harold and Betty and each thought the other’s demands were excessive although they both tried to be dignified. For example Harold later told us about them deciding who should get which of a pair of Charles Wheeler paintings which had been a wedding present from the artist. They both wanted the same painting. Betty could well have pointed out that Wheeler was actually a friend of her parents. Eventually Harold took the painting down to Melbourne to give it to Betty. She refused to accept it saying that he wasn’t handing it over with a good grace. He took it to Elsa Wilde, a mutual friend, so that Betty could pick it up when she was ready. She never did pick it up. (5) We suppose it eventually went in Elsa’s estate when she died! We still have the one that neither of them wanted.
It was an anxious time for Elva and Harold waiting for the court case, but their delight, reflected in their letters, as they discover and explore more and more mutual interests is palpable. For example they both loved literature (especially poetry), history, art, classical music and astronomy. Also, Elva was approached by Dulcie Wilton (nee Newing) a good friend of Peg’s who lived in Sydney and invited her to dinner. Elva was sure this was for the purpose of looking her over and reporting back to Peg! (3) Dulcie to Harold 12 Dec 1947: “We had the pleasure of seeing Elva last Tuesday. She came to dinner armed with a bunch of beautiful roses and about a dozen gardenias. All out of the family garden. We had a happy evening” Harold’s letters give some interesting details of life on the farm. Harold to Elva 20 July 1947: “I drove my General Stuart tank home from Alexandra on Friday. It was a most exhilirating feeling, sitting in the bowels of this monstrous juggernaut and thundering along at 40 mph threatening instant pulverisation to anything that got in my way, and as soon as I got it home I drove straight up to the forest and had a riotous orgy of constructive destruction, big trees flattening before me like cornstalks under a cart wheel. It really is a tremendous success. I was so completely absorbed with my new toy that I hardly noticed that the cockpit I was sitting in had almost become a bath … it wasn’t till I was soaked and nearly gassed with fumes that I realised it was petrol I was swimming in … there was a wrong adjustment of the pump, and many gallons of petrol had poured over everything, including the almost red hot engine. There’s no doubt God is on my side. I should have been completely incinerated.” Elva wrote back 25 July 1947 “I was delighted to know what fun you’ve been having with that tank knocking down trees … for goodness sake do be careful in future , o destroyer of forests!”
Mr and Mrs Price had been the help at the farm for more than eighteen months. Harold was surprised that, on hearing about his upcoming divorce and proposed new marriage, they suddenly departed, leaving him in the lurch. Elva thought he was a little naive expecting them to stay when she heard that not only were they strict Catholics but that Mrs Price and Betty had got on well. (3) It was a struggle for Harold to manage both farm and house on his own, but Cyril Muskett was sometimes able to help, and eventually Harold found a young man soon to be married. Harold to Elva 27 Sep 1947: “working nearly 15 hours a day seven days a week … Barney is a very nice lad and a great success. he even understands laundering and has taught me how to iron my shirts … 26 little pigs were born this week … Marina the pedigree sow had 16 today … We are milking 23 cows at present and have 18 little calves to feed and 6 more to come” and 30 Sept 1947: “It has been a dreadful week. One of the best milking cows has died, and 2 of the best calves, and it looks as if poor old Marina hasn’t got much hope, which means that her 14 surviving babies will probably die too. I have had to operate on her twice this week. The first one seemed successful but after 2 days she burst her stitches and her inside came out again and got badly torn. I sewed her up again on Sunday and she is still alive and eating … Barney goes away to get married on Thursday and will be back the following Monday week. I am simply dreading that period on my own, but I guess I will survive … there is no poetry in me at present. I’m just a tired old man and all I want is to be with you” Harold to Elva 6 December 1947: “My sweetest little elfinpet … my trip to town was to enable Bob Gaylord [Betty’s solicitor] to serve me with a subpoena to appear as a witness for the petitioner at the divorce proceedings on the 17th of this month”. Elva to Harold 5 Dec 1947: “So our suspense will be over on the 17th … what an ordeal it will be for you … at any rate you have only to tell the truth (starting with Mossvale and ending with Newport if necessary). If it will otherwise mean losing the case you have my permission to use my name.” Apparently in the end he only had to say that he had met “his girlfriend” at the places they had visited together and the adultery was assumed. Telegram Harold to Elva 17 Dec 1947: “We won. Wedding bells in March. Shut the door”
Once Harold had the decree nisi it was only a matter of time before they could be married. As an officially engaged couple, and as Harold had help along with Cyril to look after Enniscrone, Elva and Harold met at Albury at about Christmas for another trip together. This involved a lot of shopping in Melbourne where Harold stayed with Mrs. McCulloch while Elva stayed with the Smalleys; a visit to Olinda where Elva first met Peg and Aunt Hilda as well as Harold’s daughter Gay; a few days at Enniscrone accompanied by Peg and Cyril; and an ocean beach somewhere where Harold dived into the surf wearing his father’s prized Rolex watch which was ruined. Among other things they bought a new main bedroom suite in Queensland maple.
The longed-for wedding was planned for 20 March 1948, but they needed to have the decree absolute before Rev. Alexander Day of Wesley Church in Lonsdale Street would marry them. It was ready just in time, and Elva collected it from Weigall and Crowther just the day before. Harold had arranged for his neighbour, Arthur Bull to do the milking on the evening of the wedding and also the next morning, so he arrived in Melbourne in time for a walk in the Fitzroy Gardens before the wedding at 5.30. Cyril walked Elva down the aisle and doubled as best man. Auriel Goode was bridesmaid. Peg completed the small party. Hilda had been invited but was away at the time. Elva remembered that after the ceremony Lionel Smalley turned up with a present, and he and Harold played golf with umbrella handles through their suite at the Oriental Hotel. The next day they went back to Enniscrone in time for the evening milking. (3)
Harold’s second marriage proved lifelong and happy.
Having read so many letters and having given this so much thought I’m tempted to add an analytical essay but most of what I could say is either spelled out or in between the lines above so I’ll just let them all speak for themselves. Betty and Harold did remain on cordial terms. When, years later, Gay asked her mother why things had turned out as they did, Betty said simply: “Elva makes Harold happy. I couldn’t make him happy.”(4)
Sources:
- (1) Diary of Peg Beatty
- (2) Article from Weekly Times Mar 30 1955 “Highest yielding dairy herd for six years”
- (3) Elva Beatty “My life with Harold”
- (4) Gay Denney (nee Beatty)
- (5) Memories of Harold Beatty
- Letters Betty to Harold 1933-1947
- Letters Elva to Harold 1947-1948
- Letters Harold to Elva 1947-1948
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