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But few people can claim to have no regrets about their lives.’

      ‘Do you have regrets?’

      Alessandra grinned. ‘No! Not for the last nine years, at any rate. I can honestly say I’ve done everything I have ever wanted to do so far with my life, and I can’t see that changing in the future. Mind you, other people have spent a great deal of time regretting things on my behalf! My girlfriends, boyfriends, lovers, brothers, parents…’

      Realising this woman needed very little encouragement to talk, Bart made no comment as he began to stack the dishwasher.

      ‘Boy! Have my parents spent some time regretting some of the things I’ve done. Like the time I was arrested for assaulting a police officer…’

      Bart swung around, not certain he’d heard her correctly.

      ‘For what?’

      ‘For assaulting a police officer,’ she repeated calmly.

      ‘You see, I was taking part in a protest at White Bar, in Sydney, about the shipping of yellow cake…uranium,’ she qualified, ‘when the guy I was with was suddenly hit by a copper. I mean, Rick—that was the guy’s name— wasn’t doing anything worse than casting aspersions on the copper’s bloodlines when—whammo!’

      She swung a clenched fist at an imaginary figure and winced.

      ‘The boys in blue suddenly wanted to exercise their fists on Rick’s face! Well, hell, what was I supposed to do? Stand back and not even try to help him? Don’t say yes, because that’s exactly what the judge thought too. But I was lucky, I only got fined a couple of hundred bucks. Even though it was the second time I’d been picked up by the cops.’

      ‘The second time?’ Bart wondered just what sort of woman his sister had sent him!

      ‘Yeah, but I got off with a caution the first time. That was for kicking the door on a car after it had run over my dog. They bought the plea of shock that Dad’s solicitor thought up.’ She smiled smugly. ‘In actual fact I was mad as hell and if my brother hadn’t grabbed me I’d have kicked more than the car door!’

      ‘Umn—how long ago did all this happen?’ He hoped she wasn’t about to say, ‘Only last month.’

      ‘I was fifteen when my dog was killed and nineteen the second time. Don’t worry, I’m not a hardened crim. I’m not about to slit your throat in the night and take off with the family silver!’ she teased.

      If this woman claimed she had no regrets about her life to date, one thing was certain—she wasn’t hard to please! He poured two cups of coffee and carried them back to the table. Already Alessandra was into a heartfelt monologue on why uranium shouldn’t even be mined, let alone used for the production of nuclear weapons. He would kill Marilyn for inflicting this on him! Not only was he at the mercy of the emotions of an increasingly difficult seventeen-year-old daughter, he now had to contend with a radical feminist who would probably talk underwater with a mouthful of marbles! Suddenly he could claim one very real regret—he regretted that, on top of everything else, Alessandra MacKeller had to be sexy into the bargain!

      Without a doubt this was going to be the longest summer he’d ever had to endure!

      

      Two days later, Alessandra entered the kitchen to find the teenage Lisa eating breakfast. Except for presenting herself at dinnertime, along with her usual unappetising excuses for meals, the girl had made herself scarce.

      ‘Good morning. Can I get you some breakfast?’

      Alessandra gave a wry smile and leant against the refrigerator.

      ‘Do I look that desperate to eat?’ she asked the young brunette.

      ‘Pardon?’

      ‘Lisa, you may have your old man fooled, but don’t try and come the raw prawn with me,’ Alessandra told her.

      ‘Come the…raw prawn? I don’t understand…’

      Alessandra poured herself a cup of coffee from the pot on the stove before seating herself at the table.

      ‘It’s an Aussie expression that means, “don’t insult my intelligence”. I know a con job when I see one.’

      ‘I don’t know what——’ Lisa began.

      ‘No one cooks as badly as you do without putting in a lot of effort! Even a person with absolutely no comprehension of electric appliances would show gradual improvement. Unless, of course, they were deliberately trying to sabotage the food. Your efforts are too consistently bad to be genuine.’

      Alessandra watched the guilt rise in a tide of red from the girl’s neck. Her hunch was right.

      ‘Look, kid, I don’t know what you’re trying to prove, but if you have the idea that your father is suddenly going to give in and hire another cook, forget it. I already suggested that and he wasn’t buying.’

      ‘He wouldn’t! Daddy thinks just because my mother was a terrific cook I have to be too. I never even knew my mother! But between him and Grandma I feel like I’m a clone or something!’ Lisa pushed her plate aside and propped her chin on her hands.

      Alessandra noted that the dark brown depths of her eyes, although sparkling with rebellion, also hinted at confusion.

      ‘Every vacation for as long as I can remember I’ve been pushed into learning something that my mother learned as a girl and excelled at.’ Lisa sent an assessing look at the older woman, as if trying to gauge the wisdom in discussing family matters with a stranger. Alessandra said nothing and finally the teenager continued. ‘It started with ballet at four and has covered just about everything from music and art to equine sports! Their latest programme is an all-girls college! Well, I’m not going!’ she said, flicking a waist-length plait over her shoulder. ‘No matter what, I’m not going.’

      Alessandra let out a soft sigh; her sympathies were definitely with Lisa. She took a thoughtful sip of her coffee as she gauged the prudence of stepping into something which clearly had nothing to do with her. Yet the memory of a long-time friend demanded she do just that. She finished her coffee and pushed the mug across to Lisa.

      ‘Pour us both another,’ she said, giving the girl a smile of understanding, ‘and tell me what you want to do.’

      ‘I haven’t time. I have to meet someone.’

      ‘Oh. Well, perhaps another time.’ Alessandra smiled. ‘I have to get cracking on the accounts at any rate.’

      ‘I told Dad I’d show you a safe swimming hole later today. What time do you want to go?’

      Alessandra sensed Lisa’s edginess, but made no reference to it.

      ‘Any time this arvo is fine with me,’ she replied easily.

      ‘Ah…?’

      ‘Any time this afternoon. I can see I’m going to have to remember that we’re dealing with a language problem here!’

      Lisa nodded. ‘I’ll be back about lunchtime.’

      Alone, Alessandra finished her coffee. Bart Cameron would be back later to see how she was progressing with the accounts. For some reason her body churned with anticipation.

      

      Alessandra spent the best part of nearly two hours cursing Bart Cameron’s bookkeeper, as she tried to interpret the accounting procedures used in the various cash ledgers. No one could accuse the absent Edith Wilcox of being either neat or methodical! In an effort to clear her mind of the jumble of figures whizzing about, Alessandra shook her head vigorously.

      ‘Having problems?’

      Startled, she turned quickly to see Bart Cameron standing in the doorway of the tiny office. His presence seemed to reduce the room’s size. She decided to credit her accelerated heart-rate to his silent

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