I’m not sure what Father Monaghan proposed to the Vatican regarding an annulment of Li’s first marriage, but somehow, just a few months later, it was annulled by Rome! I called Mum immediately.
‘Oh, darling, this is most unbelievable,’ she said. ‘I never thought it would be allowed. Those friends of Li’s are just amazing!’ I could hear the elation in her voice.
The date for our wedding was set for 24 October 1987, which was during the ballet’s lay-off period. We asked Father Monaghan to marry us, and then made another big decision – to buy a new house. While Li was proud of his first house, with the eye of an architect’s daughter I felt it lacked character. Furthermore, we felt it would be a good idea to invest in something bigger.
We found a house near Downtown Houston in a neighbourhood called Woodland Heights, which was the only area Li and I could afford close to the studio. It was an old timber Victorian house with character, a bit like a Queenslander, and that appealed to me. The wraparound cast-iron verandah caught my attention. It was a two-bedroom bungalow in Euclid Street, quite run down, and it smelt mouldy, but with its 4-metre ceilings and huge rooms, the house had ‘good bones’, as my father would say. Li pulled up a piece of the ugly green carpet and we saw a beautiful old oak floor underneath. ‘Mary, it won’t take much for us fix house,’ he said confidently.
We decided to have a small wedding right there in the front yard, and every free hour for the next three months we worked on the house. The paint was peeling off everywhere inside and out. There were hurricane shutters on the windows, plus security bars. Although a couple of windows were very old and would need replacing, there were mosquito screens throughout, which delighted Li, who loathed flies and mozzies. The big bay window in the living room was lovely, and looked out onto the front yard. There was also a two-car garage with a two-room storage shed attached out the back. The backyard had three beautiful, big and shady pecan trees. We knew that after some freshening up, this little house would become a happy home for us.
We didn’t have the money for a new kitchen or bathroom, but Li was almost as excited to buy paintbrushes and other bits and pieces. With help from some workers, he sanded and varnished the floors and painted the verandah railing. We pulled down the filthy lace curtains, but after a wash they were nice and we hung them up again. With some convincing, Li agreed to tear down the hurricane shutters and suddenly the house was bright and welcoming. We moved in his furniture and my sofa, table and chairs. We were so excited! Finally, with the heating and cooling installed, we had a beautiful home ready for our wedding.
Houston Ballet opened its 1987–88 season in September in a stunning new theatre, the Wortham Theatre Center. It was a huge building with large, spacious studios. Culturally, this new arts complex was a real milestone for Houston. Houston Ballet and Houston Grand Opera had been instrumental in the fundraising effort, and it was incredible that the theatre had been built during one of the worst-ever oil price slumps. It was only five minutes from our new home in Woodland Heights, so we could dash home before a show if we needed to. As principal I had my own dressing room with private toilet and shower, hanging closet, mirror and dressing table, located right near the stage. But I missed sharing a room and the excitement generated as dancers prepared for shows or enjoyed post-show celebrations together.
We didn’t have much money left for our wedding, but a big wedding wasn’t my style anyway. I hated the ostentation of the few venues I looked over – huge, blank conference rooms with no atmosphere. I went shopping a few times searching for a dress, but I thought the pouffy dresses and long veils that were popular at that time were awful. Despite wearing tutus and wondrous costumes on stage, my everyday tastes were much simpler.
In one store, the assistants finally got me to try on a dress. It looked enormous, with leg-of-mutton sleeves and a bell skirt. ‘See how tiny it makes your waist look!’ they exclaimed.
But then I looked in the mirror. ‘I look like a crocheted toilet-roll cover,’ I told them. They smiled at me blankly, with no idea what I was talking about! It must be an Australian thing, I thought.
‘No, it’s no good. It’s hideous,’ I said, and couldn’t wait to rip it off.
I rang Coralie. My mum with her fabulous taste would help me out. Unbeknown to me, she had already solved it. Within the week I was the owner of a divine size 6, embroidered cream silk dress by the Australian designer Prue Acton. It had a mandarin collar (a lovely nod to the Chinese connection), a cinched waist, and a narrow skirt that came halfway down my calves. I tried it on and looked at myself in the bedroom mirror. Hmm . . . not bad, I thought. It was the perfect fit. All I had to do was buy a pair of shoes to go with it, a bouquet and something for my hair.
We were to have fifty of our closest friends and family at the wedding. The reception would be held on our front lawn. Mum was horrified that we hadn’t hired a marquee in case of bad weather, and promptly got on to it. Thank goodness she’d arrived the week before the wedding to help us get organised. I hired a woman to do the catering and make the cake. Li bought the champagne, wine, beer and soft drinks, which we would serve on ice from an antique bathtub Coralie found in the backyard.
Word about the wedding leaked, and television stations wanted to broadcast our special day. Although that meant it would be paid for, I immediately responded, ‘Absolutely not.’ Li agreed. So much of our life was about performing in the public eye. We wanted our wedding to be intimate and private.
The big day was fast approaching. Brig and Matt flew from Australia together. Jo was now in New York working as a contemporary dancer, and flew in later. Dad sent his love – his fear of flying and failing health meant he couldn’t make the trip this time. Matt would walk me down the aisle. My best friend, Jackie Barrett, arrived from London a week before and joined in all the parties and festivities. She would be my bridesmaid. Nella and Jack Gillogley, two of my parents’ best friends in Rocky, came over for the wedding as well.
My family liked the house. We sat in the bay window seat and laughed and laughed while flowers just kept coming through the door, filling the house. Gifts were delivered too – Li had many generous friends. Together with Mum and the girls, we took great delight in opening them. They included expensive dinnerware and glassware, crystal champagne glasses, jugs and a silver tea set – even an antique American side table. Ben bought us four beautiful white wicker chairs for the porch. Neither of us had ever owned anything like this before. And still the flowers and gifts kept coming.
There were suddenly seven of us staying in the house. Brig and Jo shared a bed, and we got a single bed and mattresses for the others to sleep on the floor. What an ad hoc wedding. I was no bridezilla, that’s for sure. I wasn’t concerned about the details, except the person I would be marrying. It was just the happiest time – wonderful chaos!
Li and I discussed how we needed to somehow include the friends who couldn’t come to the wedding, and decided to have a pre-wedding party for them at our favourite Chinese restaurant Dong Ting in downtown Houston. Mum and Dad generously paid for the party. We booked out the entire restaurant for around 100 guests. It was truly fabulous – friends, family, colleagues all sharing in our special night. Li looked divine in his traditional dark-navy Mandarin gown, while I wore a black velvet dress that he had bought for me. Mum looked as gracious and elegant as ever. The food was delicious and the champagne flowed. Many people made speeches, and I did get teary when Matt read out a speech Dad had written. There was so much love and pride in his words. That was the sad part of the evening for me – my wonderful father was missing, and Li’s Niang and Dia weren’t there either. We weren’t quite complete.