‘This is a real treasure trove, AuntyMargaret,’ Morton called. ‘Most genealogists would kill to have theserecords.’
‘I’m not sure why or how I ended up withthem after Dad died, but there you have it.’
Morton next found an original marriagecertificate for Charles Ernest Farrier and Nellie Ellingham. It was dated14th June 1912 and took place in the Eastbourne Wesleyan Chapel. Mortonwondered if Charles had ended up in Eastbourne in search of a better lifeoutside of London. Certainly he had remained in the town, as Alfred’sbirth certificate confirmed it to have been his place of birth. He notedwith interest that one of the witnesses to the ceremony was Leonard Sageman,who would later marry Nellie following Charles’s death.
Finally, he reached the only itemspertaining to the First World War: two postcards from Len to Nellie. Thefirst was of a vignetted, beautiful woman gazing sidewards with a happy,smiling face. The postcard had been crudely hand-tinted to enliven thedrab sepia. ‘January 1915,’ Morton began quietly, ‘My DearestNell, Just to let you know that I am A1 & still smiling. I am in aPOW camp - Garrison Lazarette - in Münster. I’ve been receiving treatmentfollowing a minor skirmish—nothing to worry about. Still receivingparcels & letters here. I hope you have been able to sort out theinsurances and that Charlie’s will that I sent you has been officially recognised. Please write with your new address as soon as you have moved. With fondregards, Len.’
Morton set the postcard down and picked upthe next. On the front was an embroidered basket of violets with thewords ‘To Nell’ sewn in neat purple letters at the bottom of the card. Morton flipped it over and read aloud. ‘18th March 1915. MyDearest Nell, Thank you for your lovely long letter and parcel. I amhappy that you have settled into your new home near Canterbury. No doubtyou will be missing Gwen and Dorothy, but you will soon make new friends. I’m sure it’s for the best. I am still A1 and fighting fit. I havemoved to another camp - Reserve Lazarette, Bergkaserne. Gooddoctors. Dreadful food. Will close now. Love, Len.’
Now fully awake, Morton jotted down thesalient points from the postcards on his notepad. He was particularlyintrigued by Nellie’s moving near to Canterbury in 1915. He suspectedthat, as a widow with a young son, she was unable to continue living at herprevious residence in Eastbourne. He looked at the burgeoning Farrierfamily tree, with the new additions of birth, marriage and death dates takenfrom the various certificates in his Aunty Margaret’s collection. Onecertificate notably missing was Nellie’s marriage to Leonard Sageman. Hecarefully double-checked the bundle of certificates, but it was definitely notthere.
After carefully placing the documents backinside the box and reattaching the lid, Morton took his notepad and pen to thetable and opened up his laptop to confirm Nellie and Len’s date ofmarriage. After a quick few taps on the keyboard, the Findmypast websitetold him that the marriage had taken place in the March quarter of 1919 in thedistrict of Canterbury. Luckily for him records for St Peter’s Church, inwhich the marriage had taken place, had been scanned and entered onto thewebsite as part of their Canterbury Collection. Seconds later a scan ofthe whole page, containing four original marriage entries was presentedonscreen. Morton zoomed in and read the entry. They were married,by licence, on the 14th January 1919, both of them residing in the village ofWestbere. Leonard’s occupation was noted as ‘Painter & decorator’ andboth the bride’s and groom’s fathers were listed as deceased. Theceremony was witnessed by one George Clarke and one Maisie Worboise.
Morton jotted down the entry, zoomed backout and was about to close the tab when he spotted something. The entrydirectly below Nellie and Len’s was for the marriage of George Clarke andMaisie Worboise, who had married on the same day. Morton smiled,considering that they were likely four friends who decided to marrytogether. Strangely, however, Leonard and Nellie had not reciprocatedbeing witnesses to their wedding.
‘Cake! Coffee!’ Margaret chanted, asshe strode into the lounge with a large tray brimming with an assortment ofhomemade cakes and biscuits—all with a Christmas theme.
‘Perfect,’ Morton said. ‘I could dowith a break.’
With an overly dramatic tug, Margaretpulled back the thick curtains, as if unveiling a grand masterpiece. Daylight streamed into the room, a reluctant sun emerging in the sky.
‘Looks like it’s going to be a nice day,’Morton observed.
‘Fancy a trolley into Truro? Do thetouristy things like the cathedral? Have a meal out?’ Margaret asked,sitting opposite him at the table.
‘Lovely,’ Morton said, leaning over andtaking a fresh cup of coffee and a snowman shortbread. After taking amouthful of each, he said, ‘I was just finding out a bit more aboutLeonard. He and Nellie married in January 1919. Seems pretty quickto me.’
She raised her eyebrows and nodded. ‘Why not? After all that loss and devastation, why would they waitaround? After all, there was a terrible shortage of men—I think Grannyprobably didn’t want to hang about.’
‘I suppose so,’ Morton agreed, having notconsidered the huge post-war disparity between the sexes.
‘I’d say they had a long courtship vialetters for several years until he was released from the POW camps at the endof the war.’
‘Yeah, I guess he was incarcerated untilafter the Armistice,’ Morton answered, returning his focus to hiscomputer. ‘I’m just going to see if there are any POW records stillsurviving for him. I know the International Red Cross have digitised someof their records. Let’s take a look.’
Margaret carried her coffee over to thetable and stood behind Morton, watching excitedly as his fingers darted aroundthe keyboard.
‘Here we go,’ Morton said, indicating forMargaret to read the screen. It was a scan of a simple index card, whichthe International Red Cross, in their role as a go-between, had compiled.
Leonard Sageman. Soldat No. 6518 auRoyal Sussex 2me Rgt. Comp. A. Disparu depuis décembre 1914.
Rép. à Mrs Nellie Farrier, Swan
