Iris Owen and Pauline Mitchell interviewed Marianne in the fall of 1978 under strict condition her story would not be published until after her death. The following excerpts from those interviews describe what happened to the Shaw family after they left England in 1907:

Marianne's family moved to Ireland, and she says, "I remember being sad when we left and went to Ireland." She continues, "Rev. Foyster visited us there, and then later went to Canada." He continued to write to them regularly, and Marianne remembers receiving Christmas and Easter cards from him, as well as a children's magazine, Sunshine.

When he came home for holidays, Foyster would visit the Shaws in Ireland, and Marianne says he "told such vivid stories of blizzards coming up out of nowhere - of summer wild raspberries, wild strawberries, and fishing for trout and salmon. He had a vivid way of portraying people and places, firing us all with enthusiasm for far away places."

Marianne goes on to relate the poverty in Ireland in 1913, and how poor everyone was. "People lived on potatoes, wheat, flour, and herrings. Nobody died of hunger, but nobody got fat." Always fond of the outdoors and living creatures, she doesn't recall a time she was without a pet, and claims she learnt a lot from animals. She was not a superstitious person, although many were around her.

Then the [British] Portland Cement Company opened a factory in the district and she says, "Jobs came into being." Her father got a job at the factory and made the acquaintance of a young English boy who had come to Ireland to work - Harold Greenwood, age 19. He was a talented violinist, and Marianne's parents invited him to join with them in forming a musical group. Marianne describes what happened thus -

"I had never had a beau, never been on a date before. He was a talented violinist and he and mother and father started a music group which ended up in a big concert in a local hall. I thought he was beautiful, and was delighted to be the object of his affections. He suggested marriage - and spoke of a way to get 'round the need for parental consent. This was to be marriage by declaration in Scotland. In order to do this, he persuaded his sister to invite me to visit her. Father objected, but mother said it was OK since I'd been very properly invited.

"So we went, but before we went, Harold slipped over to Stranraer, Wiganshire, and hired a room, making it an address. So we married, and later went on to visit Harold's sister and brother in law.

"We kept our marriage secret until I got pregnant. Then all hell came out of the closet. Mother nearly went raving mad. Finally Harold broke down and told of the Scotch marriage. That only made matters worse - now dad got into the act. He said such a marriage was illegal - we'd not filled the residency laws, and no clergyman was present. So once more we were married - this time in church - Belfast Church of Ireland - my parents were witnesses. We were all happy.

"Harold told us he wanted to buy a little cottage near to my parents. This he did, and we moved in there. Harold continued to work at the plant, and as I said, we were happy. He had always told us his only relations were his sister and two older brothers, now he began to mention a mother who was rather delicate. Our child was born, and we had a ball naming him.

"One morning Harold's mother arrived out of a clear blue sky. She hated Ireland, the Irish, the little house, the scenery, but most of all she hated ME. Within three weeks it was all over. Harold was like a whipped puppy. He must not kiss me, he must not do this, that or the other. Finally she announced he must go back to England with her - he agreed and said he would send for me later.

"My father asked me if this was what I wanted, and I knew Harold would always resent me if I persisted in being what his mother called a burden. So I said NO. Whereupon Dad went to an attorney and had a deed drawn up that Harold and I were separated legally, forever. Harold's mother said she would oppose any payment, my Dad said 'We don't want either your money, or you, or your son.' I never saw either of them again, as they both went back to England.

"Later, by several years, my father was contacted in 1920 by a young English lady saying she had married Harold, and was planning on going to Australia to join him - except that an aunt of Harold's had communicated with her telling of his marriage to myself. She wanted to know was this true. My father went to England and visited her. We never knew if she went to Australia or not - my father thought not. Some time later, father received a letter from an aunt of Harold's saying that she had heard of Harold's death. She said she would find where and when, but she never did. I wrote to his sister, but she did not reply. . .

"I received a letter at this time from Lionel Foyster, who said he was moving to a new parish named Drummond. I replied and sent a snapshot of myself and my aging grandmother. Lion quickly replied that I'd changed from the sweet child he'd christened. I wrote back, 'Thanks a lot, I'm still a sweet person.' This tickled Lionel and he began a daily correspondence. I began to reply to his letters telling him of the troubled times (I.R.A.). He told me of the pine forests, fireweed, golden maples, and the foreign born folk he lived among. The next thing he asked me to come to Canada and share his life. I contacted an attorney at law and told him of my marriage to Harold. I showed him the letter I'd received from Harold's mother, and told him of Harold's marriage to the English girl. The attorney said, 'You have had no contact with this man for seven years. He consoled himself with someone else, and his aunt reported him dead. Then my advice is since you will be leaving Ireland and going to a new world, to go out and look the situation over. If you like what you see, take a chance on the man.'"⁽¹⁾

The Shaws moved to Larne Ireland, near Belfast where William Shaw landed the job of time-keeper. Harold Greenwood was a clerk for the same company. An interesting coincidence appeared in the fact Greenwood's father - like Lionel - was a clergyman.⁽²⁾

The first marriage of Marianne and Harold in Scotland took place June 8, 1914. They were married again at St. Anne's Cathedral in Belfast November 12, 1914. On the certificate, Marianne overstated her age by two years. She also changed her name from Mary Anne to Marianne, and was probably known by the later from then on. In later years, she enjoyed telling people in an aristocratic accent, "The Europeans would say, Mary-ann-ah." Some also called her Ann.

The senior Greenwoods provided as much as they could for the new couple, amounting to about £200. This was used to purchase a small home near the Shaws.

Ian Geoffrey William Greenwood was born April 19, 1915. Six weeks later, Harold left the country and all public notice for him ceased until decades later when Alan Roper found his records in Australia. At the time, their were rumours he may have died. With Greenwood gone, Marianne went back to using her maiden name, and the baby was also known as Shaw, presumably her brother. It is very important to note that "Mrs. Shaw took over the bringing up of Ian and never let Marianne have her boy. Mrs. Shaw bathed the boy, fed him, and would not let Marianne do anything for the baby."⁽³⁾ The behavior of Mrs. Shaw is very typical of the times. She was obviously convinced Marianne was too young to care for a baby, and did what many grandmothers did then under similar circumstances. Part of the reason Ian grew to dislike his mother may have been his feeling she "abandoned" him at birth. While that was not the way it really happened, this mistrust played a very important role in both their lives later on.

As adventuresome as she was, one cannot help but wonder if Mary Anne had made her way to the ship docks in 1912 to see the launching of the Titanic. If there was a way to do it, she would have.

During WW I, Marianne ended up working at a munitions factory in Coventry, England. Ian regaled Trevor Hall with stories about Marianne's "long succession of love affairs with soldiers, sailors, coloured men and the like - to the great distress of her parents. On her return to Larne in 1918, she rapidly became the talk of the town. . . Shaw said that his grandmother always used to arrange for [the visiting] Mr. Foyster's lodgings to be well out of town in order that he should not hear of Marianne's reputation."⁽⁴⁾

Ian remained in Ireland when his mother went to Canada, and one has to wonder if perhaps some of his stories may not be colored with the frustration of being left behind by his mother. There were many times I felt abandoned by my mother, and I know I did not care what anyone thought about her. Being introduced as her brother could also have hardened the young Ian's heart toward his mother.

Alan Roper read about my quest in Peter Underwood's Ghost Club Society News. His interest in Borley spans over 40 years. Fortunately, his research was almost as extensive as Trevor Hall's. He was able to find out many previous unpublished facts including the following: Harold Greenwood was born in Teddington, Middlesex. He went to New Zealand in 1923, and remarried. He took several years off his age on his marriage certificate. He had a son and a daughter by his second marriage, and died in 1965 or 1966.
In October of 1998, a lady by the name of Maureen was reading The Daily Mail and saw a promotion for my web site on Borley. She had a friend with a computer contact me, and eventually I learned she was Ian's daughter. "Ian Geoffrey William Shaw married Sarah Ross in 1939 at Larne Co Antrim N. Ireland. I am the result of that union. I was born 5-4-1940. When my father married my mother, the Shaw's did not approve. The marriage was not encouraged. My mother was one of nine children and she was very isolated in a small village. She went back to her family taking me. However the Shaw's thought that I would be better off with them. So my mother gave me up to my father, who in turn agreed to leave me with the Shaw's. When Marianne's mother Annie Elizabeth died her son Geoffrey became my legal guardian. So my father and mother had no contact with me."
That would make Maureen my "adopted" niece. (See Appendix C for her recollections.)

Ireland has long been a place of whitewashed houses thatched with straw. Cottages were made of clay, and peat bogs supplied fuel for the fires. "Everything social in the ordinary way takes place around the fireside," wrote one Irish author. "The visitor is brought at once to the hearth. The neighbors who come in sit by it. When the conversation becomes general, when there is song or story, the gathering becomes the celidh or seanchas. . . . couples could dance to the fiddle or the concertina."⁽⁵⁾

Gaelic has been described as "a language of prodigious diversity of sound and expressiveness of phrase. . . a language of quips, hyperboles, cajoleries, endearments, lamentations, blessings, curses, tirades - and all very often in the same breath."⁽⁶⁾ My mother would astonish people in Midwestern America with her command of Gaelic, and she must have listened attentively to the stories of sprites, leprechauns, and ghosts told next to the fire in the Shaw cottage. She spent 15 of her most formative years in the land of oral tradition and heroic imagination.

The Irish have been described as "passionate admirers of printed knowledge and strange tongues,"⁽⁷⁾ which sounds so very much like my mother. While she did not become a professional story teller - or shanachie - the following description of one such wandering scholar easily describes my mother. It brings her graphically to life, captivating me with yet another retelling of her favorite - "The Highwayman" -

She has so clean and finished a style of speech that you can follow all the nicest articulations of the language on her lips without any effort; she is a natural orator, with so keen a sense of the turn of a phrase and the lifting rhythm appropriate to Irish that her words could be written down as they leave her lips, and they could have the effect of literature with no savor or artificiality of composition. She is wont to illustrate her talk with tales long and short which come so naturally along the flow of conversation, and lighten all her discourse with the wit and wisdom and folly and vivid incident of the past.⁽⁸⁾

1. Owen, Iris, M., Mitchell, Pauline. Marianne's Story. Toronto: New Horizons Research Foundation, 1979. pp. 27-30.

2. John Greenwood joined the London City Mission in October 1871. Research by Alan Roper.

3. Hall, Trevor. Marianne Foyster of Borley Rectory. Unpublished, 1958. Vol. IV, p. 65.

4. Ibid. Vol. II, pp. 10-11.

5. Colum, Padraic. A Treasury of Irish Folklore. New York: Wings Books, 1992. p. xiii.

6. Ussher, Arland. The Face and Mind of Ireland. New York: Devin-Adair Co.

7. Flower, Robin. The Western Island. New York: Oxford University Press.

8. Ibid.