CHAPTER TWO

      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