ABOUT MOLLIE MOORE
Mollie was born in Sydney in 1916 and grew up in Queanbeyan until the age of 12 when she attended Sydney Girls High School having won a bursary. Mollie had a consuming passion for the piano and at the age of 9 years became an “Associate Of The London College Of Music” and at 10 years a “Licentiate” of the same institution. At 11 years old Mollie achieved the position of “Associate Of The Victorian College Of Music”.
While playing for the choir
of the Queanbeyan Anglican Church she met and married
Andrew, the choirmaster. They
settled in Canberra and raised 6 children. It was at this time that Mollie
discovered she had a natural interest and ability in poetry and short story
writing. Upon retirement in 1961
and with 5 children gone their separate ways, Molly and Andrew moved to the Gold
Coast. Here Molly further developed
her interest in poetry and short story writing, taking a correspondence course
from “The Famous Writer’s School” in
the USA (1971). Mollie had 2 short stories published by Peter Hall’s
Writer’s World (TOBAGO PTY LTD) in “Short Stories ‘93” and another 3 in
“Short Stories ‘95”. Showing
a diversity of talent, Mollie had 5 of her poems published in “Writer’s
World 1993 Poetry Anthology”. Several
other poems were published by The International Society of Poets” during the
1990’s. In 1998 and 2001 Mollie attended The World Convention of The
International Society of Poets in Washington DC (USA), each time
receiving a “Poet of Merit Award” consisting of a “Plaque” and
Mollie wrote “The Delayed Wedding”, a story with an interesting but feasible plot so other people could gain the same pleasure in reading it that Mollie had in creating it. It is an expression of Mollie’s wide and varied interaction with people from all social levels in unusual and amusing situations.
My Wedding Day
I awoke to the song of the pied butcherbird’s flute-like melody outside my sun-drenched window, while the embroidered pink Terylene curtains stirred in the gentle breeze, blowing against the pale green wall. Then I lay thinking of the day’s exciting activities because today is our “Wedding Day.”
My petite, blonde mother entered the green-carpeted bedroom, carrying two cups of tea, with a wheatmeal biscuit in each of the matching saucers.
“What a beautiful morning, Sally,” she exclaimed as she placed them on the maple bedside table, near my pink terylene covered bed.
“Thanks, Mumsie. Is it a dream?” I looked into her sparkling blue eyes.
“Am I, Sally Gray, to marry Geoffrey Hume, the promising young architect half the girls in town are crazy about? Is it really going to happen this afternoon at 2 o’clock?”
“That’s right. I’ve put another lot of presents on the coffee table in the lounge, dear. Don’t forget you and the bridesmaids are due at the hairdressers at 9.” Mum spoke in her clear contralto voice. She looked adorable wearing a long quilted, mauve housecoat. We drank our tea and chatted, sitting in the grey bedroom chairs beside the wing-mirrored, maple duchess. The warm, March morning sped by
It seemed no time until I was dressed in my white satin bridal gown, with the fashionable, off-the shoulder scalloped neckline. Attached to the tightly fitted bodice was the long full skirt, trimmed with a trail of white Guipure lace carnations down the left side. A short tulle veil stitched to a tiny white pillbox hat fell over my shiny, blonde hair. In addition, I carried a posy of crimson carnations and white sweet peas, tied with long lengths of white satin ribbon.
A few minutes later, my distinguished father, the artist Adrian Gray, a man of medium height, with dark hair slightly greying at the temples, accompanied me to “The Kingdom Hall” in our black Daimler.
As we alighted from the comfortable red-seated car, two attendants requested us to go into a room that adjoined the Hall.
“Why? What’s wrong?” I asked.
“Geoff hasn’t arrived yet.” Jack Curtis, a tall groomsman, in a dress suit and tails, flushed with embarrassment.
“He’s a nice one to ask me not to keep him waiting. I’ll have to rubbish him about this, eh Jack?” I smiled at Geoff’s dark-haired, university friend.
“You’re a good sport, Sally. Geoff’s a lucky guy,” he commented, shutting the shiny car door.
I smiled at my worried mother, while entering the small, pale green-walled room, adjoining the main entrance. “Geoff’s probably delayed in a traffic jam.”
“Most likely,” Mum nodded, looking relieved.
“At least I can relax and admire everyone’s frocks.” I sat in the velvet-covered chairs and gazed around the room, thankful that the window was open.
“Aren’t my bridesmaids a picture?” I asked mother, who was elegantly dressed in navy silk, with a spray of crimson rosebuds on her right shoulder. Navy accessories completed her outfit.
“I think the crimson and white colour scheme’s gorgeous, don’t you?” I added.
“Yes.” Mumsie smiled an enthusiastic agreement, as I observed my bridesmaids. Firstly there was Gaye, my elder, brown-haired sister along with my two school friends, Bettina Marsh and Lynette Bostock, who were both tall, slim and attractive. Poor Gaye kept the junior maids, Sue and Delwyn, out of mischief, although she looked tired after the pre-wedding festivities.
The minutes ticked slowly away without any sign of Geoff. Through a common door I could see well-groomed guests waiting patiently in their rows of velvet covered chairs, admiring the cream-carpeted hall and the pale green walls with their Heritage trim. They enjoyed the clove perfume from the large bowls of crimson and white carnations placed around the hall.
Some were chatting in groups, enjoying the up-building fellowship with their loving brothers and sisters, while enjoying the background music of melodious Kingdom songs, played by a congregation pianist. Only a few peered anxiously in our direction.
The ushers, my younger brother Rex, Geoff’s brother Jock, and Geoff’s friend Adrian, a white carnation in their lapels, stood in a group, just waiting for they knew not what.
Bald Uncle Jock’s black bow tie was askew. Auntie Irene, an attractive brunette, was joking about the number of times she had to straighten it.
I noticed Allan Maher, the other tall groomsman, holding Bettina’s sheaf of white gladioli, while she adjusted her brown, wavy hair. Allan, sporting a small, black moustache, looked elegant in dress suit and tails.
As I gazed around the room, acknowledging the greetings of my various relatives, I observed that Allan and Bettina made a handsome couple. But where can Geoff be? My thoughts flew back to last night. Bettina and Lyn had arrived on the afternoon plane, when Geoff had suggested we have dinner with them. It was a wonderful evening of fun and dancing. Geoff’s goodnight kiss had been that of an ardent lover.
“Just think, darling, after to-morrow you’ll be my wife,” he whispered and gave me a hug.
“I can hardly wait for two o’clock.” These certainly were not the words of a half-hearted bridegroom.
I turned to Mumsie who was talking to Auntie Irene, an attractive woman smartly dressed in a beige lace ensemble.
“Something’s happened to Geoff, Mother, but what?” I agonised shrugging my shoulders helplessly.
“Surely if he’d had an accident, we’d have been notified by now.” I looked the other way to hide my trembling lips.
Jovial Mr. Brown, our Presiding Elder and also the participating marriage celebrant, checked the time with my brother Ted, the best man and then came over to me through the open door. He was a short man with dreamy dark eyes under bushy brows. “I’m so sorry, Sally. I’ve another appointment my dear.”
“That’s alright, Bill. I’m sure there’s a good explanation. Geoff would never let me down like this.” I felt myself blush as I spoke.
“No, I don’t think he would either, Sally.” Smiling gently he walked quietly away.
The ushers quickly explained the situation to our guests, who filed out of The Kingdom Hall, speculating on the reason for Geoff’s absence. Friendly little groups formed, as friends chatting quietly together, before moving off to the reception rooms to hopefully enjoy what was to have been our wedding breakfast.
I walked out to the car in a dream and then sank into the comfortable back seat, thankful for my parent’s support as we drove home. It was a nightmare, definitely not the happiest day of my life.
The girls and I changed into cool casual frocks and sandals, before coming downstairs for tea. Rosa, our gem of a housemaid efficiently prepared a buffet meal. Platters of sliced ham and lamb, glass bowls of crisp salad with green lettuce, red tomatoes and radish, carrot straws and sliced cucumber with mayonnaise were ready for everyone to serve themselves.
Seated in the orange-backed chairs around the polished teak table, my parents and guests valiantly tried to make polite conversation, but the bottom had fallen out of my world. If only I knew what had happened to Geoff?
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