The sunlight glints on the cherry-red strands of Beth Barnard's hair as she laughs.
The colour is new. Her clothes are new. Even the laugh feels new.
Before, when she wanted to dye her hair, go to movies, or get a massage, Beth was told she couldn't afford it, that she didn't have money, she says.
But actually, she did.
The Financial Ombudsman has ordered the Commonwealth Bank to pay back more than $84,000 to the 28-year-old, after it allowed her mother to regularly withdraw money, over nine years, from her daughter's account.
Beth, who has cerebral palsy and epilepsy, was not aware she had a bank account. Nor did she know she was getting a disability pension, and that it was being paid each fortnight into that account, she says.
And she didn't know the Commonwealth Bank failed to seek authority from her when she turned 18 about who should have access to her account.
"The bank should have obtained specific instructions from the applicant about the future conduct of the account," Ombudsman Philip Field found.
Beth was 11 when her mum, who Fairfax Media has decided not to name, first set up the account for her daughter. Initially a "birthday money" account, her disability support pension was paid into it from the age of 16.
Two years ago, after her parents separated, Beth's aunt, Deb Dunn, discovered a box of paperwork in the garage that showed her niece had a bank account.
And they realised that more than $140,000 was withdrawn after Beth turned 18 in 2006 until she discovered the existence of the account and took control of it in July 2014.
So Beth visited the local Commonwealth Bank branch with her aunt, to try to access her account, but was refused. The bank said she was not a signatory.
Not knowing where to turn, Ms Dunn approached the Villamanta Disability Rights Legal Service, in Geelong, which advocates on disability-related legal and justice issues.
Lawyer Naomi Anderson says her clients often have family members who believe they should be making the decisions, or managing the money, for a relative with a disability.
"Often they think they're 'helping', but what they don't understand is that unless you are a guardian that is court appointed, you don't have the right to do that once the person turns 18," she says.
Beth and her mother are now estranged, and her mother did not keep a record of where the money withdrawn from her daughter's account was spent, Mr Field found in his determination.
But he ruled Beth's compensation from the Commonwealth Bank should be reduced by 40 per cent because she lived with her mother, and was provided with food, clothing and shelter.
Beth finally has the means to pursue her eclectic interests: going to musicals, holidaying at Phillip Island, shopping and ... Lebanon.
Lebanon? That's the country her favourite taxi driver comes from, who drives her to a disability day service in Heidelberg. Beth even attempted to fast during Ramadan, as a sign of respect to her Muslim drivers she tells me, laughing in delight.
Photo: Jason South
Over the past year she has appointed her own lawyer, who has helped her learn how to manage her own financial literacy and banking. Young people with a disability often miss out on everyday financial literacy as a teen: pocket money, first jobs, first bank accounts.
Beth wants all people with a disability to feel the thrill of financial independence.
"This is for all the other disabled people who can't communicate easily or talk. This will open their eyes," she says.
A Commonwealth Bank spokesman said the bank had been working with Beth, her representative and the Financial Ombudsmen to resolve the "unusual and difficult matter". The bank would comply with the Ombudsman's finding, he said.