Free Heart of the Outback by Lynne Wilding Page B

sailing, maybe up to Middle Harbour.”
    “Sounds wonderful. Yes. What time? What about food, drinks?” A day on the harbour. Just what she needed to alleviate the stress of this week’s heavy workload. Brett and Meredith were trying to teach her how to sail their eight-metre yacht. Then, without prompting, an idea popped into her head. “Be okay to bring a friend?”
    “Sure,” Meredith said without hesitation. “And if he or she knows how to sail, even better. We’ll bring the food and refreshments. Could you be at Waverton marina by 8 a.m., please? You know how Brett hates to be deprived of his time on the boat. Oh, and good luck for tomorrow night. Your mum told me about the award.”
    “Thanks. Bye.”
    As Francey closed the bedroom door of her Potts Point apartment, she sighed with contentment. The bedroom in particular was her haven, it always had been even when she’d lived at home. Here she could be herself, indulge her dreams, her fantasies and her hopes without fear of criticism or derision. She was about eleven when she’d begun to daydream about what she wanted to do with her life. When she’d been doing chores in the fruit shop, mopping the floor, stacking or picking out bruised fruit for her mother to stew, she’d think about the future.
    Seeing her parents struggle to earn a good living — competition along Glebe Point Road was strong, and there were the supermarket chains — had been a salutary lesson for her. She knew she wanted more. Not necessarily to be rich and famous but the best she could be, but at what?
    Her daydreams would start with: once upon a dream I dreamt I wanted to be a …
    Would she become a renowned scientist inventing cures to save mankind? Or a rock star? though her singing voice was a trifle suspect in that regard. Perhaps she’d be the first female racing car driver towin a grand prix, or the managing director of a multinational company.
    By the time Francey turned fifteen, with her passion for drawing plans and imagining new structures she had chosen architecture as her vehicle for success. She wanted to be the finest architect she could be and after four years she was steadily working towards her next goal: to become a full partner at Nicholson, Drew and Carlyle.
    After finishing university, with her first pay cheque she had immediately begun to save obsessively. Independence was what she needed — a place of her own. She loved her parents dearly but she needed the privacy and peace of her own space, away from the demands of a large Italian family with hordes of noisy relatives calling in for impromptu visits. Within three years she had a deposit and the contacts she had made in the real estate business had allowed her to do a good deal.
    The apartment block in one of Potts Point’s narrow back streets was old but the rooms were large, with high ornate ceilings. Initially, she and her cousin Tony had painted the four room apartment. The ceilings were white, the walls a soft dove grey and the skirting boards, door and door frames a brilliant turquoise.
    She had renovated the galley style kitchen and next year she planned to strip and fix up the antiquated bathroom. Gradually, as her pay packet allowed, she decorated the living room the way she wanted. Two modern patterned sofas, a coffee table and against one wall she had indulged her love of music. A shelving system housed a TV, a hi-fi stereo and, on the wallfacing the kitchen, hung an arrangement of her favourite black and white photos.
    Francey threw her briefcase and jacket onto the double bed whose cover had a bright geometric pattern and then closed the vertical drapes for privacy against the possibility of prying eyes from neighbours in the apartment building across the street. In one corner of the bedroom stood a draughtsman’s board, a computer on a laminated desk and a swivel chair which could be used for drawing or working on the computer. Above the computer hung a very large black and white print — a