Mr MacTaggert was a middle-aged civil engineer heading to an international engineers conference in Wellington, and when it was realised that their new friend Miss Harvey had no fixed plans and no acquaintances in the new country, they suggested she stay and explore Wellington with them for a few days, especially as Mr MacTaggert would be at the conference during the days.
So Ethel joined the MacTaggerts as they left the ship at Waterloo Quay and caught a taxi with them to the Hotel St George, an impressive Art Deco hotel where the conference was to be held. At the front desk, Mr MacTaggert enquired about a room for Miss Harvey, and was informed the hotel was fully booked.
‘Come now man,’ Mr MacTaggert said to the concierge, ‘you must keep a room or two spare—it is important that Miss Harvey here is properly accommodated.’
‘I was so looking forward to staying at your establishment!’ Ethel gushed. ‘I had heard so many wonderful things from your ambassador Sir Thomas Wilford back home in England,’ she lied. ‘I should have booked weeks ago, but it was a spur of the moment decision to come now rather than in the autumn.’ The concierge took in Ethel’s fine clothing, her regal demeanour and prim, posh voice, while Ethel looked at him as sweetly as she could.
‘I do have a small room that—’ the concierge began.
‘Oh wonderful! I hope I haven’t put you out at all,’ Ethel immediately exclaimed, in her plummiest of tones. ‘I was hoping to stay with my friends here,’ she said, beaming at the impressed Mrs MacTaggert, before turning back to the concierge. ‘I will have to tell Sir Thomas what a wonderful fellow you are.’ The concierge smiled and asked her to fill in the register, and she was in.
That night at dinner, the engineers and their wives met for drinks in the lounge and Mr MacTaggert formally introduced Ethel to the guest speaker, Mr William Coradine. At 55, he was sixteen years older than Ethel, and 25 years older than her alias Eve. A single civil engineer, he had recently sold his share of a Ceylon tea plantation and was heading back to Britain to undertake some consultative work at Whitehall before officially retiring.
William Alexander Coradine was too good an opportunity to miss.
20
MRS CORADINE
William Coradine had planned to attend the engineers conference, taking the opportunity to visit his uncle James Coradine, who he had never met, and his large extended family, before returning to a sedate life of semi-retirement back in England. But then he met Ethel.
Eve explored Wellington by day with her new friend Mrs McTaggart and some of the other wives at the conference, and as the only unaccompanied lady in their group, managed to escort the single Mr Coradine to all the official functions over the week-long conference.
Ethel used all of her considerable charm to snaffle the rich, middle-aged colonial, travelling with him after the conference, with a couple from Ceylon, to visit his uncle James. William seemed delighted to be of interest to such a delightful young woman. He told her all about his life and she was fascinated. He was the son of a strict Methodist preacher; his mother had died when he was young, and he and his father had travelled to Ceylon as missionaries for six years. When they returned his father remarried and William had several younger siblings, but he didn’t know them very well as he had been shipped off to public school in Norfolk, near his father’s new parish. He trained as a civil engineer when he had finished school, and after working in London for a few years took a job in the city of Kandy in central Ceylon, and eventually became an investor in a large tea plantation, living the life of a Ceylonese colonial. Now, he was ready to return to England, having accepted a job at Whitehall; he had sold his stake in the plantation and was heading back, via New Zealand, a very wealthy bachelor.
Once again Ethel had a chance at a life free from deception, relatively speaking. She could be who she was meant to be.
She told him her father had been a doctor in Harley Street, but had died two years before she embarked on her world trip, and she had nursed him through a long, horrible illness. Her mother, a member of the Coats cotton dynasty, had also died when she was quite young, so they had something in common. She had never married, or had any children, but now she was heading back to England, and felt she could possibly settle down, if he was interested.
Mr Coradine was delighted, and on 27 February 1935 they were married at his uncle’s parish church in Rotorua. With a fresh marriage certificate, Eve Coradine, née Harvey, applied for a new passport for her new life. While they waited for the passport to be processed, the newlyweds spent the next few months on an extended honeymoon, travelling throughout New Zealand and visiting the remote and dramatic Milford Sound.
They set off for England as a bitter winter was descending upon Wellington, travelling first class on the SS Remuera. The only notable event that interrupted Ethel’s partying was the death of an elderly woman in third class, who was buried at sea with much ceremony, her white sheet-sheathed body slipping beneath the waves.
Arriving in Southampton in July 1935, the Coradines found a home in fashionable Chelsea, and William worked as a Crown Agent for the Colonies at Whitehall, frequently spoiling his new wife with cash and gifts. Ethel was content: she was invited to all the best Chelsea social occasions, had a rich, respectable husband, a beautiful home she could entertain in freely—and then life took an unexpected turn. At nearly 40 years of age, she found out she was pregnant.
William was ecstatic; he was going to be a father. Ethel was not nearly as excited. She carried the child around reluctantly, feeling every bit her age, and complained to her indulgent husband at every opportunity.
Ethel Mary Coradine arrived on 22 September 1936, leaving Ethel with complications that would plague her for years to come.
She was a lovely baby, and the nanny they hired was attentive, but when she was just two weeks old, she went to sleep quite normally one night and never woke up.
Mr Coradine was heartbroken. Filled with grief, his health and spirits deteriorated, and he officially retired. Ethel wanted to sell the house, saying it was filled with sad memories, and that they should move somewhere more gay and start again, but all William wanted to do was stay indoors and mourn.
So, Ethel took off, to the French Riviera. She had always wanted to live in the playground of the rich and famous that she had seen again and again portrayed on film.
It was a turbulent time, with the Spanish Civil War casting long shadows over Europe, and in England rumblings of another Great War as King Edward VIII abdicated and married Mrs Wallis Simpson in France in June 1937, and it was reported that they were holidaying in the French Riviera. With the added bonus of scandalous royalty in the area, Ethel wanted a piece of that action.
On arriving in Nice in November 1937, Ethel excitedly settled into a fashionable hotel overlooking the promenade across the Bay of Angels, aiming to get in with ‘the set’. The Côte d’Azur was luxurious, dazzling and filled with beautiful people—certainly a far more glamorous version of Henley Beach, St Kilda or Blackpool.
Ethel dolled herself up and lorded herself about town, trying to get invites with anyone of note. Not succeeding, she watched in frustration as those she most wanted to be seen with emerged from their extensive villas and châteaux with sweeping gardens overlooking the town, climbing into large saloons to be driven to the most exclusive venues and homes, or to one of the many casinos, or down to the harbour to float on luxurious yachts. She even saw the former King Edward and Mrs Simpson from afar one time—but it was all just out of her reach.
The one place she could still live out her fantasy life was in the casinos of Monte Carlo and Nice. Attending most nights, she dressed to the nines, playing the part she’d seen in plenty of movies, but instead of impressing people with her posh voice and jewels, as she was used to doing, she had suddenly become a small, dull fish in a very big pond. Instead of being showered with invitations, all she really succeeded in was gambling away Mr Coradine’s money.
After her third request for funds in a month, her
grieving husband finally put his foot down and told her it was time to return home—but unbeknownst to him, she had no money at all. So Ethel set to work, only to become increasingly frustrated. Nice was full of wary wealthy people, vigilant French police and shop owners who found her usual ploys and stories unimpressive and transparent.
Ethel loved the Riviera, but without sufficient funds or means, the life she wanted most remained irritatingly out of reach.
She spun a tale to her hotel manager, truthfully explaining that she could not pay her account, convincing him that if she could make it back to England she could obtain funds from her doting husband and pay what was owed, plus a healthy bonus for his assistance. He lent her £40 so she could travel in the manner to which she was accustomed—then she promptly lost most of it in the casino. She stole away in the night with the one small suitcase she could carry, leaving behind a hatbox and two larger cases and their contents, along with a note for the manager explaining her goods were in lieu of her debt.
She slowly made her way back to England with the realisation that perhaps the French Riviera wasn’t for her after all.
Instead of heading to her marital home, she returned to her old stomping ground, Blackpool. There she successfully passed various personal cheques, and swindled people out of accommodation and goods. Her faith was restored: a wealthy, well-spoken matron, she could still pull it off.
Ethel continued to cash cheques as she travelled around the country, until months later, in early July 1938, she was finally caught trying to pass one of her worthless cheques for ten pounds at a London garage.
Full of her own self-worth, Ethel was convinced she could wriggle out of the charge—it was for only £10, after all. What could she get from the magistrate? A slap on the wrist and a fine would be about it.
Ethel was surprised to find herself standing in front of a judge instead of a magistrate, but still felt confident to defend herself without a lawyer.
She stood in court and explained that she was the daughter of a distinguished Manchester citizen, and the wife of a retired Ceylon plantation owner and civil servant, and that it was all an unfortunate mistake—she thought the funds would be in the account.
The judge listened carefully and said it was indeed unfortunate that neither her husband nor father was in court to substantiate Ethel’s claim, and ordered she serve three months in the second division at Westminster Gaol.
At least it was a little better than Strangeways. First division at Westminster was for murderers and political prisoners, it was probably the only time she was happy to be second class in anything.
Belatedly, Ethel realised she should have been in touch with her husband—perhaps that would have been the difference between a fine and gaol.
She’d get in touch with him again. But what to say to him? That she hadn’t come back because she was still sick with grief?
Yes, that might work.
Twenty years after first being banished to prison in England, she was back again. Depressed and isolated, she had plenty of time to contemplate what the future held. Ethel had not been in contact with her father for years; even though she had missed him, there was no way to easily explain her leaving her boys, and besides, Mr Coradine thought her father dead. She had now been officially married eight times, divorced three times, her eldest son would be 22 and she probably wouldn’t recognise him if he walked past her in the street, her baby girl was dead, Frank and Basil would be fourteen and thirteen and were being looked after by the state as far as she was aware, and this was her third stint in gaol.
She once again decided she would try to lead a normal life. A happy, normal life.
Ethel came clean and wrote to Mr Coradine, laying all her appalling gambling stories on the table and apologising for not returning home. It was the gambling and the grief that kept her away from him, she pleaded—the gambling had caused all her current problems, and now she was in gaol. She hoped he would forgive her; she wanted to come home when she was released; wanted to stop gambling, and lead her life by his side.
William came to visit her in gaol. Over many tears, they shared past sorrows, fears, hopes and dreams for the future. William was horrified to find her in gaol because he’d stopped her funds; he promised he would make it up to her.
It was agreed that they should sell the Chelsea home and start up again somewhere new. Ethel explained to him gently that she needed to be busy, and asked if he would agree for her to start up a small business—a shop she suggested, in busy Blackpool. Though not having any knowledge of the area, William agreed, if it meant they’d be together.
They would look for a new home as soon as Ethel was released. A fresh new life beckoned.
Mr and Mrs Coradine bought a home, 217 High Cross Road, at Hardhorn Poulton, six miles inland from the Blackpool Promenade. It was a beautiful two-storey house, sitting on a prominent corner block with a large garden, and an easy train ride to Ethel’s new business. William kept to himself in his retirement, while Ethel ran her artificial flower stall in the busy tourist district.
It was 1939, and war was all but imminent. Fresh flowers were almost impossible to buy, so artificial flowers, created from locally handmade felt, became popular. Ethel would purchase them cheap from local ladies and sell them on to tourists and businesses alike. She loved having her own business, engaging with people and selling her wares, and felt she did pretty well out of it.
World War II began. Once again Blackpool became a place where people went to try to forget, as well as being an aviation training ground for the Royal Air Force, bringing lots of recruits into the town on rest and recreation leave.
During the busiest summer months Ethel would sometimes stay in Blackpool, keeping her stall open into the twilight hours for those walking the promenade in the better weather. She took a room in a large boarding house at 2 Athlone Avenue belonging to an elderly woman, Margaretta Williams, happily exploring her old stomping ground, and catching up with her great love of movie theatres, leaving Mr Coradine at home.
In the summer of 1942 she met local businessman Thomas Livesey. Seven years older than Ethel, he described himself as a slate merchant, but it wasn’t long until Ethel found out just how well off he was, and suggested they take in a movie.
Movies had changed so much from her youth; they all still had wonderful stories, though she preferred the romance and adventure films. The first of many movies they saw together was the Alfred Hitchcock thriller Rebecca, and they spent the evening talking about the movie, the stars of the film and the story itself.
From then on they met regularly, whenever Mr Livesey was in town.
William Coradine was not well, and Ethel didn’t want to let this opportunity pass her by.
She had her next husband lined up.
21
MRS LIVESEY
Mr Livesey was indeed a slate merchant, but his wealth lay in money from his mother’s side of the family. His maternal grandfather had left a job as a footman to work for a theatre manager in London as a young man, and a year later he was managing a theatre of his own in the West End. Within ten years he oversaw a theatrical empire and had made a fortune.
Prior to the Great War, Mr Livesey’s grandfather owned and ran some of the best theatres on the West End, held two country manors and a racehorse stud in Ireland, before dying in 1915 at the age of 59. The male line of his family was cut to ribbons in the war, leaving Thomas’ mother and an aunt, together with his business partner in the theatre, the main beneficiaries of over £50,000 (over $7.7 million). With the death of his mother and then father twenty years later, Thomas inherited a manor house in Surrey, together with his mother’s remaining inheritance.
Thomas sold the manor house and bought five impressive investment properties around Liverpool, living off the rent, as well as the dividends from shares he purchased in a new product taking off around the world promising to outdo cotton: rayon. He was a man of means.
Ethel loved the fact that his money originally
came from the theatre, and that the handsome movie star Roger Livesey was supposedly a distant relation, something that became a fact for her. Slowly but surely, she wheedled her way into Thomas Livesey’s life.
Thomas was married, with children, and knew about Mr Coradine, whose health was steadily failing, and whom Ethel claimed she had never loved. She told him she stayed with her husband out of loyalty, and had a nurse look after him so she could carry on her social obligations.
After a few months Mr Livesey asked the charming Ethel Coradine to accompany him to the Isle of Man for a weekend away. Ethel readily agreed, and they headed off for their romantic getaway to the capital, Douglas, at the start of spring 1943. With distant family and business connections on the Isle, Thomas took the opportunity to mix business and pleasure on several successive weekends, more often than not with Ethel in tow.
They stayed at the fashionable Howstrake Hotel Majestic, owned by an enterprising middle-aged couple, Ellen and Leo Kane. Ethel and Mr Livesey always took separate rooms and pretended not to know each other during their stays, meeting in each other’s rooms after dark. But they had to be careful, as Mrs Kane would regularly prowl the halls and lurk in bedroom corridors at night to make sure no hanky-panky was taking place in her establishment.
One afternoon Ethel was spending time in the hotel lobby while Mr Livesey was out visiting a business colleague. She was thinking about seeing a movie at the Regal when she spotted Mrs Kane, or Kanie as she was known to the locals, making her way towards her across the quiet lobby.
‘Mrs Kane,’ she said with a smile as Kanie came towards her. ‘You have a lovely establishment here.’
‘Thank you, Mrs Coradine, it is a little quiet at present, what with the war on and all,’ Kanie replied.
The Amazing Mrs Livesey Page 9
