My dad’s mother, Molly Brown (1919-1982). Left home at 14 and despite a lack of formal education, got into nursing school in London. She broke every rule while a nursing student, usually something to due with being out partying. Molly was a lifelong student and my dad hardly ever saw her without a book in hand. He told me she was a stereotypical “Memsahib,” who in the absence of her husband, took extremely good care of her four children without complaining.
She was also a strikingly beautiful young woman.