The Everywhere Man Read online

  All of her fantasies, all of her deep sexual responses to this man were irrelevant without the total commitment she would have to both give and receive in order to survive in any role where Quinn was concerned.

  Survive? Could she even survive without him? she wondered. And worse, would there ever really be a choice? Despite his rather altered attitude towards her, Quinn had never shown the slightest interest in a full-time relationship, in a commitment such as Alix dreamed of. Except, of course, to Michelle, who seemed able to command some consistency of response from him.

  The mere thought caused Alix to grit her teeth and moan softly in despair, and the sound drew an enquiring snuffle from Nick, who had been making his own contribution to her sleeplessness. After several days of insufficient exercise, the dog was restless, and had spent the earlier part of the night prowling nervously throughout the small cottage.

  Alix was no further ahead when sleep finally arrived, but upon waking in the morning she fixed upon the one decision that made any sense at all to her. She must leave Bundaberg and all contact with Quinn if nothing happened soon to resolve her problem. She simply could not face the thought of him with anyone else, much less the total wrongness of Michelle, but even less could she accept herself in the role that seemed to be shaping up.

  She simply could not be only a temporary convenience for this man, slave to her own physical responses and growing love. It would destroy her even more surely than leaving him entirely.

  And so she would go, but not today ... not immediately. She couldn’t leave with Mrs Babcock in her present condition. Even after a return to her home the tiny woman couldn’t be left totally alone, with no one even within call. But then surely Quinn would arrange something; he was much too committed to his housekeeper to put her at risk.

  In fact, Alix thought, it would be wholly in character for him to decide that she herself could be freed to care for the elderly woman; surely if he could free her for those wretched dog classes he could do so for something obviously more important.

  Of course! And after last night, with her self-confessed success at having stepped in to help out in the emergency, it should seem the logical solution.

  Alix dressed, put Nick into the kennel after a long run that should improve his humour somewhat, she thought, and then drove herself to work in a sunny, buoyant frame of mind. She sailed through her morning’s chores, distracted only by the fact that Quinn hadn’t even put in an appearance by noon, and then decided she’d skip lunch and visit the housekeeper personally.

  She arrived at the hospital, however, to find that Mrs Babcock had already been discharged and returned, presumably, to her home.

  Fantastic, thought Alix, but it was a thought that was followed by one considerably less pleasant. Quinn might at least have told her!

  She debated briefly if she had time to fly home and ensure that everything was all right, but a check of her wrist-watch told her there wasn’t really time. As she drove slowly back to work, something in the back of her mind kept telling her to make time, but when she wheeled into the parking lot and found Quinn’s automobile arriving just behind her, she forgot about the warning in her haste to greet him and find out the situation.

  ‘She’s fine,’ he replied. ‘It’s only a sprain and not so bad a one as they first thought. Apparently it was the shock of the fall that frightened her ... and the pain, of course. Anyway, she’s back home now and resting comfortably, so not to worry.’

  ‘But ... but ...’ Alix found herself stammering and silently cursed herself for it. ‘But surely you can’t leave her at home ... alone?’

  ‘Alone? No, of course not,’ Quinn replied. No ... Michelle’s with her.’

  ‘I see,’ said Alix, and then turned away quickly so that he wouldn’t see the effect that statement had wrought. It was as if her world had suddenly shattered into a million shreds and for an instant she feared she would break into tears.

  Then Quinn was speaking, saying something that Alix didn’t, couldn’t, hear for the ringing in her ears. She didn’t hear it, didn’t care. All she wanted was to escape before she managed to make a total fool of herself

  ‘I’m sorry,’ she responded in a brittle, almost fragile voice, ‘but I must go in now or I’ll be late.’ And she fled without waiting for his reply.

  Inside the building she fled directly to the washroom, where she flung water against her flushed and burning forehead, then stood, trembling and gasping, as she stared at her reflection in the powder room mirror.

  ‘Fool ... fool ... fool ... fool!’ she cried, shaking her head as the first tears began to slither down her cheeks. Then the flood began, and she slumped forward, hiding her head in her arms until the torrent was spent and she could once again regard her eyes, reddened now, in the privacy of the mirror.

  The rest of the afternoon was sheer torture. She tried and tried — and failed and failed — to turn off her mind, to relinquish the thoughts that crept in to stir up her emotions with green-eyed jealousy, frighteningly volatile rage and tears of sheer frustration.

  Even logic had a go. Why should she allow it all to upset her so much? Why even anticipate that Quinn should have thought of her, rather than Michelle, to be with Mrs Babcock? It wasn’t a logical thing to expect, really, since Alix was his employee, being paid to work, not play nursemaid. Michelle, with her apparently substantial independent means, was a much more logical choice, even though Alix knew full well that Mrs Babcock didn’t have a great deal of time for the other woman.

  Logical. So why did it hurt so much? Gradually, as logic failed, its placed was taken by anger, and in this Alix had somewhat more success.

  Anger at Quinn, anger at herself. Mostly herself. Anger for allowing her feelings such fantastic free rein, anger at having let him kiss her, having let herself fall in love with him. Oh, she thought, how stupid! How stupid and silly and girlish to leave — luckily — the influence of one selfish man only to slip openly and wide-eyed into the clutches of a worse one.

  But she couldn’t stay. It was even more imperative now that she get herself away from this place, away from the influence of this man who could sear her soul with a single glance, arouse her traitorous body with one touch of his eyes, his lips, his fingers. She would go — but not until after the coming dog trials.

  There, at least, she would have one slim opportunity for revenge, such as it might be. Given just a slip of luck, she might be able to lead Quinn into some totally ridiculous claim, or bet, or something! And then make him eat his words without salt!

  Alix accomplished little actual work during what remained of her afternoon. Her mind was busy not with engineering drawings but with plots and plans and schemes, most of them patently useless, and of the quick refresher training she must begin immediately with Nick. Less than a week — not much time, but perhaps enough. And she would begin this very evening, following it up with a session each day at dawn and after work. They’d show Quinn Tennant a thing or two ... she hoped.

  Anger rode with her on the journey home, but sped away like a sunburnt mist as she drove into her car port and walked round the corner of the cottage to find Mrs Babcock sitting comfortably in an armchair on the porch.

  ‘What … what are you doing?’ Alix cried, her first thought one of alarm. The crutches beside the tiny woman and the elastic bandage upon her knee and thigh were evidence enough; Mrs Babcock shouldn’t be negotiating stairs at all, much less alone and on crutches.

  ‘Now don’t you start,’ was the audacious retort. ‘I’ve already run off that Michelle for trying to mollycoddle me, and I’ll have none of it from you, either. It’s only a sprain.’

  ‘Only a sprain? More like only a broken neck if you’re not careful,’ Alix retorted in a squeak of anger that was only partially feigned. ‘Do you mean to tell me you came down those stairs — on crutches — and with nobody here to help?’

  "I did. And I’ll do it again if I choose,’ the little woman replied gallantly. ‘And I’ll thank you not t
o badger me about it, young lady. Why don’t you go and make us some tea, instead, and then you can tell me all about the dinner last night. I’ve already heard Quinn’s story, of course, but I’m far more interested in your impressions.’

  ‘My impressions of what, for goodness’ sake? It was a dinner party, that’s all. You know what we ate because you prepared it.’

  ‘Not all of it,’ was the reply. ‘Now will you just stop arguing and go make some tea.’

  Faced with a stubbornness she couldn’t meet, Alix did as she was told, and ten minutes later the two women were seated at Alix’s small table, the tea steeping gently beneath its knitted tea-cosy.

  ‘Now,’ said Mrs Babcock, ‘I want to know about dinner. Did everything turn out all right? Did you manage with the pita bread?’

  ‘Oh yes,’ replied Alix, ‘Everything came out fine, even the bread. Quinn ... Mr Tennant helped with that, of course. And he helped ... clean up afterwards.’

  ‘He what?’ Mrs Babcock’s look of incredulity was startling.

  Surprised, Alix repeated herself almost word for word, then added the information about Quinn’s assault upon the dishwasher and his knowledge of making the bread.

  Mrs Babcock’s eyes sparkled, but she was obviously holding back an exclamation of some kind, though when Alix pressed her she staunchly retreated into silence.

  ‘But that isn’t fair,’ Alix cried with a mock pout. ‘You can’t expect me to tell you everything and then refuse to say a word yourself. What’s so unusual or ... whatever, in what I’ve told you?’

  ‘Don’t badger me, I’m sick,’ Mrs Babcock retorted, then smiled warmly at her own weak joke. ‘Really, Alix, there isn’t anything to tell,’ she said then. ‘Except, perhaps, that Quinn Tennant wouldn’t know one end of a dishwasher from another, and the thought of him kicking mine is quite ridiculous.’

  ‘Not nearly as ridiculous as what you’re up to, old girl,’ came an all-too-familiar voice from the doorway. Both women turned to find the man they had been talking about lounging against the door-frame, his eyes ranging around the room as if he had never seen it before.

  ‘Why aren’t you in bed resting?’ he demanded of Mrs Babcock with a stern look on his face, then turned upon Alix with an even sterner glance, as if to say, ‘and what’s your part in this?’

  ‘I’m not tired, obviously,’ Mrs B. retorted with a broad grin. ‘And stop looking so serious; I’m not some fragile geriatric, you know.’

  ‘No, you’re a stubborn, irascible old woman and I worry about you,’ he shot back. ‘Which doesn’t answer my question. And where’s Michelle, who’s supposed to be keeping an eye on you?’

  Mrs Babcock shrugged her slender shoulders. ‘At home, I presume. I’m not her keeper; nor is she mine.’ The sudden edge to her voice was not lost upon either Quinn or Alix.

  ‘So you sent her away ... just like that?’ Quinn ran his fingers angrily through his shock of tobacco-coloured hair. ‘What am I supposed to do with you, Mrs B.?’

  ‘Nothing! I’m quite capable of looking after myself,’ she replied hotly. ‘At least it would be better than being under the care of that ... that woman. She fairly sets my teeth on edge.’

  ‘You’ve never complained about her before,’ Quinn replied, with only a shade of hesitancy in his voice to reveal the surprise he seemed to be feeling.

  Alix sat in a stunned silence of her own, unwilling to be a part of this astounding performance and yet unable to escape it.

  ‘You never asked me before,’ Mrs Babcock retorted with a toss of her head. ‘And I’m not complaining. I simply prefer my own company, that’s all.’

  ‘It’s not all, dammit!’ he replied in what was almost a shout. ‘I will not have you left alone under the circumstances, and that’s that!’

  Alix stared into her tea-cup, unwilling and unable to look up as the silence gathered around them like a shroud. It was insane, she thought. And she wanted to scream, or run, or do something, anything, to break the tension that filled the entire cottage like unseen, un-smelled smoke.

  ‘Well?’ Quinn demanded.

  Alix didn’t look up, and Mrs Babcock said nothing, but the older woman must have made some unseen gesture, because Quinn’s reply to it thundered through the room.

  ‘Alix? Oh, really, Mrs B.! We can’t ask Alix to play nursemaid. I mean, last night was one thing and I’m sure she knows how much we both appreciated her stepping in as she did, but ...’

  His voice trailed off then, and Alix almost jumped out of her skin at the tentative nudge of something against her

  ‘Would you consider it, Alix?’ His voice was softened, somehow, but it was a second nudge, more definite this time, that spurred Alix to a stumbling, faltering reply.

  ‘I ... that is ... well, I wouldn’t mind,’ she said lamely, her entire body alive with astonishment at what was happening. Surely Quinn must have noticed the kicks Mrs Babcock was aiming under the table. My God, Alix thought, this is like some comedy farce. I just can’t believe it.

  ‘You’re sure?’

  She had to meet his eyes then, and she shuddered inwardly at the embarrassment her own eyes must reveal. ‘Yes I’m sure,’ she said softly, and shivered when his eyes left her.

  ‘Well, I’m not so sure myself,’ he retorted, but he was speaking now to Mrs Babcock, almost as if Alix herself didn’t exist.

  ‘Alix is a draftswoman, not a nursemaid; I’m not sure It s really fair to ask her to do this.’

  ‘Well, it’s at least as fair as making her take time from work to help with the Fred Bassett school,’ Mrs Babcock snapped with an alacrity that took Alix by surprise. ‘Or isn’t my peace of mind as important?’

  ‘That isn’t the point,’ Quinn interjected. ‘It’s just that ... Oh, well, all right. But don’t you put up with any of thi nonsense, Alix,’ he snarled, turning once again to meet Alix’s glance. ‘Just because this old harridan knows she can run my life there’s no reason for you to let her try and run yours as well.’

  ‘Alix and I will get along perfectly well,’ Mrs Babcock replied before Alix could say a word. ‘Now perhaps you’d help me back upstairs, Quinn. I’m feeling just a bit tired; perhaps I have overdone it just a bit.’

  Quinn moved quickly to gather up the diminutive woman, leaving Alix to follow behind with the crutches as he carried Mrs Babcock like a child up the steep stairs at the rear of the house and through into her room.

  ‘You silly old possum,’ he said affectionately as he deposited her on the bed. ‘Never listen to anybody, do you?’

  ‘Not if I can help it,’ she replied with a weak smile. ‘Now I think I’ll just rest a bit, and I know I won’t be hungry later, so why don’t you take Alix out somewhere for dinner?’

  ‘I’ll do no such thing,’ Quinn retorted, ‘You’re not being left alone no matter how sneaky you try and be. I’ll send out for Chinese or something, and when you’ve rested you must have some too.’

  ‘Oh, now look,’ Alix protested. ‘I’ll find something for all of us when it’s time. It’s no trouble—’

  ‘It’s too damned much trouble,’ Quinn interrupted. ‘You’ve done your share of cooking around here last night and I won’t have you cooking tonight as well.’ He paused then to stare disconcertingly into her eyes. ‘Or don’t you like Chinese?’

  ‘Oh, it isn’t that,’ Alix replied, startled by the directness of the question as much as its unexpectedness.

  ‘Good, then it’s settled,’ he replied abruptly. ‘Now let’s get out of here and let Mrs B. get some rest, before she starts accusing us of grating on her nerves.’ Strong hands at her shoulders manoeuvred Alix through the doorway before she could say another word.

  ‘I imagine you’ll want to change before dinner,’ he said when they had reached the main floor once again. ‘I’m going to take Anna for a run when you get back, and Nick too, if you don’t mind. They both need the exercise. I’ll pick up the tucker on the way home.’

  Alix could do nothing but nod
her assent, barely trusting herself to speak. Everything was going too fast, and had suddenly become much, much too confusing for her. She was shocked, surprised and not a little amused at the scheming of Mrs Babcock, but dearly afraid of what would happen when Quinn realised, as he surely must, how he had been manipulated.

  ‘He’s going to blame it on me,’ she told the housekeeper when Mrs Babcock, remarkably refreshed, called her in not five minutes after Quinn had left with the dogs.

  ‘Blame what on you?’ the old lady asked with a look of exaggerated innocence. ‘Really, Alix, I think this has all been too much for you; you’re starting to imagine things.’

  ‘I certainly am,’ Alix replied tartly. ‘And I’m not sure I like any of it. It makes me feel terribly devious.’

  ‘Piffle! You hardly know the meaning of the word,’ Mrs Babcock replied with a grin. ‘You’re far too nice, Alix. It puts you at a distinct disadvantage when you’re up against people who are really devious. When I was your age, and given your looks, I’d have had that snooty Keir woman off down the road with her tail between her legs before she knew what hit her.’

  ‘Well, I’m not like that, though I don’t deny I sometimes wish I was,’ said Alix. ‘And it wouldn’t work in the long run anyway, not for me.’

  ‘So you’re backing out without even a fight? Humph!’ said the housekeeper. ‘I wouldn’t have taken you for a quitter.’

  ‘I’m not a quitter. But you can hardly back out of something without being in it in the first place,’ Alix replied stoutly. ‘And all fantasies aside, I’ve never been in it, here. Even you can see that, surely.’

  ‘I can see nothing of the kind,’ was the adamant reply. ‘There’s nothing wrong with my eyes at all.’