It was her third wedding – the previous two had been brisk affairs in registry offices – just as it was for Marsh. On a fine spring day last September, McCarthy found herself standing in front of a gathering of 40 in the grounds of Sydney’s Vaucluse House, dressed in white crêpe and exchanging vows with Warren Marsh, also in his 70s. She just didn’t think she would be in her 70s when she finally got it. The dress, the flowers, the friends and family gathered in a romantic venue, the speeches. Annie McCarthy had always wanted one of those “pretty weddings”.
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