by Karin Baine
IF WAITING WAS an Olympic event, Quinn would never make it through the qualifying rounds.
Although she’d had enough experience to know to come prepared, she hadn’t been able to sit still long enough to read her book or make any lesson plans for her tutored students. She’d even added an extra body to the picket line outside to save this hospital from closure in the hope it would take her mind off Simon going under the knife again. It was hard to believe anybody thought it was a good idea to merge this place with another outside the city when so many walked through the doors every day, and she was happy to wave a placard if it meant Simon’s treatment continued here without any disruption.
The kids called it the Castle because of the beautiful architecture, and the story-like turrets and spires certainly gave it more character than any modern glass building could hope to replicate. Quinn had actually found it quite an imposing place at first but that could have been because of what she’d had to face inside the walls. These days it had almost become their second home and the people within were now all so familiar she didn’t want anything to change.
‘How’s Simon?’
‘You poor thing...’
‘And you’re out here? With us?’
‘Have you heard how Ryan Walker is?’
‘He’s still an inpatient. I don’t think there’s been any real improvement. Even if he gets to go home I think the family are going to need a lot of help.’
‘And they have a toddler to look after too. It’s such a burden for them. For you too, Quinn, with Simon.’
The other Westbourne Grove Primary parents on the picket line had been well-meaning but the chit-chat hadn’t helped her paranoia. Ryan, who’d suffered a serious head injury during the fire, was still critical and he and Simon were among the last of the children still receiving treatment. The raised eyebrows and exchanged glances at her presence anywhere other than Simon’s bedside made her wonder if she had done the right thing in participating in the event and she’d abandoned her post in a hurry. Perhaps a real mother would’ve acted differently when her son was in surgery and she worried people would think she wasn’t compassionate when that couldn’t have been further from the truth.
That little boy meant everything to her. He might only be with her for a short time but she was as invested in him as if he was her own flesh and blood. All she wanted was for him to feel safe and loved and she’d failed on both accounts, if his continued apathy towards her was anything to go by. Perhaps when these operations became less frequent, and without the constant disruption of hospital appointments, they might actually find the time and space to bond.
She tossed her uneaten, soggy ham sandwich back into the crumpled aluminium foil. Not even the chocolate biscuit nestled in her pre-packed lunchbox could tempt her into eating. She had no appetite for anything other than news on Simon’s condition. It might be a standard procedure for the staff but she knew there were risks for any surgery under general anaesthetic—breathing difficulties, adverse reaction to medication, bleeding—she’d done her Internet research on them all. Of course, none of these had occurred thus far but that didn’t mean they couldn’t happen.
In a world so full of danger she wondered how any parent ever let their offspring over the doorstep alone. It was taking all of her courage just to let Simon get the treatment recommended by the experts. At the end of the day, parental responsibility had been handed over to her and it was her job to keep him safe until adoption took place with another family.
That permanent knot in her stomach didn’t untangle even when she saw him safely wheeled back onto the ward.
‘How did it go?’ she asked the first person who walked through the doors towards her. Of course that person had to be Matt.
Deep down she was grateful; the surgeon was the best person to keep her informed. It was just...he was always here, disturbing her peace of mind, reminding her he was doing a better job of taking care of Simon than she was.
Matt saw no reason to prolong Quinn’s misery any longer. ‘It all went well. No complications or unforeseen problems. Now we just have to wait for this young man to come around again.’
It had been a long day for him with surgery and his outpatient clinic but Quinn had every right to be kept in the loop and he’d wanted to end the day on a high for all of them by coming to speak to her. He wanted to be the one to smooth out the worry lines on her brow. Besides, he’d rather she torture him for information than take out her frustrations on the rest of the staff. He could handle it better because he understood it better. After being thrown in at the deep end and having to learn on the job, he hadn’t exactly been a model parent either when he’d fought his siblings’ battles.
‘Thank goodness.’
The fleeting relief across her face and the glimpse of the pretty, young woman beneath the mask of combative parent was Matt’s reward for a job well done.
She followed the bed into the private cubicle with him, never letting go of Simon’s hand although he was still drowsy from the anaesthetic.
‘Once he comes around and he’s ready for home, we’ll make sure you have painkillers to take with you. If there’s any further problem with itching or infection let us know.’
‘I think I’ve got the number on speed dial,’ she said with the first sign of humour of the day.
Matt knew they’d been through this routine countless times but it was part of his duty to make sure the correct treatment was followed up at home. Quinn’s co-operation was just as important as his in the recovery.
‘As usual, we’ll need you to try and keep the dressings dry until you come back to have them changed. You’ve got an appointment with the child psychologist too, right? It’s important that Simon has help to process everything he’s going through.’ Never mind the fire itself, the surgery alone could be traumatic enough for someone so young to get past. He already seemed so withdrawn and Matt wanted to make sure they were doing all they could as a team to make him better.
‘The psychologist, the physiotherapist, the dietitian—we’ve got a full house in appointment bingo.’ Her voice was taking on that shrill quality which was always an indication of an impending showdown.
‘I know it’s a lot to take on but it won’t be for ever. It’s all to ensure Simon recovers as quickly and effectively as possible so you can both go back to your normal routine outside of these hospital walls.’ He didn’t know what that included since she seemed to spend every waking moment here. Almost as if she was afraid to go home.
These days he had an entirely different outlook on his personal time. There was nothing he loved more than reclaiming the peace and quiet of his apartment and the freedom of doing whatever he felt like without having to fit around other people’s schedules.
‘Don’t.’ Her small plea reached in and squeezed his insides, making him wonder how on earth he’d managed to upset her in such a short space of time.
‘Don’t what?’ He didn’t understand the sudden change in her body language as she let go of Simon’s hand to wrap her arms around her waist in self-comfort.
‘Don’t make any more promises you have no way of keeping.’
Matt frowned. He was supposed to be the harbinger of good news, not enemy number one. ‘Ms Grady, Quinn, I’ve assured you on many, many occasions we are doing everything in our control—’
‘I’ve heard it all before but there always seems to be one thing after another—infections, fevers, night terrors, haemo-wotsit scars—’
‘Hemotrophic.’
‘Whatever. Life is never going to be normal when every surgery creates further problems.’ Her voice, now reaching levels only dogs and small unconscious children could hear, brought a murmur from Simon before he drifted off to sleep again.
This wasn’t the time or the place for one of her dressing-downs about how nothing he did was good enough. Ven
ting or not, Simon didn’t need to hear this.
He placed a firm hand under Quinn’s elbow and, for the umpteenth time since they’d met, he guided her out of the room. Whatever was going on he couldn’t continually let her undermine him in front of his patient. If Simon didn’t believe he could help him he might lose hope altogether.
Quinn dug her heels in but it only took a pointed glance back at the bed and an extra push to get her moving again.
‘I’m not a child,’ she insisted, shaking him off.
‘Then stop acting like one. This is a conversation that needs to be held away from impressionable young ears.’ His own temper was starting to bubble now. Why couldn’t she see he would do anything to help them? She seemed determined to make this situation more difficult than it already was. Perhaps it was time he did back off if his presence here was partly to blame for getting her riled. Once he’d said his piece today he’d go back to his official role of reconstructive surgeon and nothing more.
She huffed into the corridor for another round of their battle of wills. He waited until the door was firmly closed behind them and there was no audience to overhear what he was about to say.
‘The graft was a success. That’s what you should be focusing on here.’
‘That’s easy for you to say. You’re not the one he runs away from crying when it’s time to bathe him, or the one who has to rock him back to sleep when he wakes from the nightmares, screaming.’ Quinn’s eyes were shimmering with tears, the emotions of the day clearly coming to a head.
He kept an eye out for a female member of staff who’d be in a better position to comfort her. For him to hug her was stretching the boundaries of his professionalism a tad too far. Whilst he sympathised, at the end of the day, she wasn’t one of his siblings and not his direct responsibility.
‘Perhaps it would help to talk to one of the other parents? I know they’re bound to be going through the same struggles right now.’ He didn’t doubt she was having a tough time of it personally but he really wasn’t the one to guide her through it.
This was why he should treat all patients exactly the same and not let sentiment, or physical attraction to a parent, cloud his judgement.
‘They probably are but I’m not part of the clique. I’m the new kid on the block as much as Simon. Most of them have known each other for years through the Parent Teacher Association and I haven’t even been around long enough to organise a playdate for Simon, much less myself. Even if I did, I’d probably have to make sure they all had background checks done first. Not the way to start any budding friendship, I’m sure you’ll agree. No, we’ve managed this far on our own without inviting strangers in to witness our misfortune. I think we can persevere a little longer.’
She was insisting she could go it alone but those big blue eyes said otherwise and prevented Matt from walking away when he knew that was the best thing he could do to save himself.
‘The staff here will always be available for you and Simon but I do think perhaps our personality clash isn’t helping your stress levels. Unless there are any complications I’m sure the nurses can take care of you until the next scheduled surgery. I’ll make sure I keep my promise to him today though. I will come back when he’s awake and show him that magic trick.’
This time he did manage to move his feet, but as he took a step away, Quinn took one closer.
‘Oh, yeah. It’s so easy for you to gain his trust. A few stupid magic tricks and he thinks you’re the best thing since sliced bread, but me? He hates me. I’ve given up my job, lost my partner and abandoned any hope of a social life so I could focus on fostering, and for what? I’ve failed at that too.’
The thing he’d been dreading most finally happened. The dam had burst and Quinn was weeping onto his scrubs. There was no possibility of him leaving her now. She needed a shoulder to cry on and it was simply rotten luck for both of them—he’d been the wrong person at the wrong time.
‘He doesn’t hate you. You’re in a...transition period. That’s all. After all of the trauma it’s going to take a while for him to settle down.’ He heard the chatter of passers-by and took it upon himself to reposition Quinn so she was against the wall and his body was shielding her from view. She was so slight in his arms, so fragile, it was a natural instinct to want to protect her.
As if he didn’t have enough responsibilities in his life.
She shook against him, her sobs wracking so hard through her petite frame he was afraid she might break.
‘I. Wish. I. Was. More. Like. You,’ she hiccupped against his chest.
‘I’ve never performed a sex change and I think it might be weird if I started making clones of myself.’ He wanted to add that it would be a shame to tamper with the beautiful body she’d been given but it sounded inappropriate even in a joke. He wasn’t supposed to be thinking about her soft curves pressed against him right now in anything other than a sympathetic and completely professional manner.
The sobbing stopped and she lifted her head from his chest, either because she’d rediscovered her sense of humour or he’d completely creeped her out. He held his breath until he read her face and exhaled when he saw the wobbly smile start to emerge.
‘I mean, you’re a natural with Simon, with all the kids. I’m starting to think I’m not cut out for parenthood.’ Her bottom lip began to quiver again in earnest and Matt made it his personal mission to retrieve that smile.
He tilted her chin up with his thumb so she stopped staring at the floor to look at him instead. She needed to believe what he was telling her. Believe in herself.
‘I’ve picked up a few child-wrangling tips along the way. Parenting isn’t easy and that parent/child bond simply needs a little nurturing. I have a few short cuts I can share with you if you promise never to breathe a word of my secrets. I would hate to dent my reputation as the resident child-whisperer.’
‘Heaven forbid. I’m sure that would break the hearts of many around here who worship the ground you walk on.’ She blinked away the tears and for a split second it would be easy for Matt to forget where he was and do something stupid.
If they weren’t standing in a hospital corridor he might’ve imagined they were having ‘a moment.’ She’d made it clear she wasn’t one of his devoted followers and yet her body language at present said entirely the opposite.
Matt’s stomach growled, a reminder he hadn’t eaten anything substantial since mid-morning, and distracted him from her dilated pupils and those swollen pink lips begging him to offer some comfort. He couldn’t go back on his word to help but he did need a timeout to regain his composure and remember who he was. That definitely wasn’t supposed to be a man prepared to cancel a hot date in order to spend some unpaid overtime counselling families.
‘Listen, there’s a pub across the road—the Frog and Peach. Why don’t I meet you over there in ten minutes to talk things over? We can grab a drink or a bite to eat and come straight back here the minute Simon wakes up.’ There was nearly always a contingent from the hospital propping up the bar at the end of their shift and he was counting on someone else to jump in and come to Quinn’s aid before he committed to something else he’d come to regret. The phone call he was going to have to make would end his most recent love interest before it even began.
She gave a wistful glance at the room behind her before she answered. The sign of a true mother thinking of her son before herself, even though she didn’t realise it.
‘I’ll leave word to contact us the second he opens his eyes.’ He wasn’t going to beg but he did want to fulfil his obligations ASAP so he could finish his working day and head home. Alone.
‘Only if you’re sure...’ Her hesitation was as obvious in her doe-like eyes as it was in her voice.
Matt wasn’t any more certain this was a good idea than Quinn but a chat in a pub had to be infinitely safer than another five
minutes with her in his arms.
CHAPTER THREE
QUINN SCROLLED THROUGH her phone, paying little attention to the social media updates on the screen. She wasn’t in contact with any of these people; they weren’t part of her actual life. Recent events had proved that to her. Virtual acquaintances could be chock-full of sympathy and crying emoticons on the Internet but a distinct lack of physical support from anyone other than Mrs Johns next door had made her see an online presence was a waste of her valuable time. This sudden interest in what people were having for dinner, or who had the cutest kitten meme, was simply to occupy her hands and give the impression she was at ease on her own.
Matt had directed her towards the pub across the road and assured her he’d be with her as soon as he could get away. The Frog and Peach, as nice as it was, was a busy hub in Paddington and she was self-conscious sitting outside, occupying one of the much sought after tables.
She envied the carefree patrons meeting their friends to toast the end of their working day. It reminded her of the camaraderie she’d once had with her fellow teachers inside and outside of the school. A friend was the one thing she was desperately missing right now—someone she could share a laugh with, or pour her heart out to without judgement. Mrs Johns was the closest thing to that, volunteering to babysit if she ever needed a hand, but it wasn’t the kind of relationship where she could really confide everything that was getting her down at the minute. She only really had her mum to talk to on the end of the phone for that, but even then she was almost ashamed to be totally honest about her situation and admit she wasn’t coping when her mother had been her fostering inspiration. When she did return home to her Yorkshire roots, she wanted it to be a journey of triumph with Simon as happy as she’d been as a child who’d finally settled.
Quinn drained the water from her glass. After the day she’d had fretting over the surgery and making a fool of herself crying on Matt’s shoulder, she could probably do with something stronger but she wouldn’t touch alcohol while Simon was under her care. She took her responsibilities seriously and she couldn’t sit here getting pie-eyed when she still had to get them both home across the city.
