Hot Docs On Call: Healing His Heart. Alison Roberts
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been before. This is something for you and your mum to do together.’ Matt turned and mouthed an apology to her and the penny dropped that he’d been trying to broker this deal for her benefit alone.
‘Matt has lots of other patients to treat and he’d never get any work done if he had to keep taking them all to the zoo whenever they demanded it. We’ll go, just the two of us, and make a day of it.’ Quinn could already sense him shrinking back into his shell. Negotiating with an infant was a bit like trying to juggle jelly—impossible and very messy.
‘You can take loads of photos and show me the next time you’re here.’
Bless him, Matt was doing his best to keep his spirits up but the spark in Simon had definitely gone out now he knew his favourite surgeon wasn’t involved. She knew the feeling.
‘Right, mister, it’s getting late. We need to get you dressed and take you home.’ Any further arguments or tantrums could continue there, out of Matt’s earshot. She wouldn’t be surprised to find out he’d taken extended leave the next time they were due back to see him.
‘I don’t have a home!’ Simon yelled, and single-handedly pulled the sheet up over his head, his body shaking under the covers as he sobbed.
Quinn genuinely didn’t know what to do; her own heart shattered into a million pieces at his outburst. He didn’t count her as his mum, didn’t even think of her house as a place of safety, despite everything she’d tried to do for him.
She was too numb to cry and stood open-mouthed, staring at Matt, willing him to tell her what to do next. It wasn’t as if she could leave him here until he calmed down; he was her foster child, her responsibility, and it was down to her to provide a home he’d rather be in instead of here.
The foster authorities would certainly form that opinion and it was soul-crushing to learn he’d take a hospital bed on a noisy ward over the boy-friendly bedroom she’d painstakingly decorated in anticipation of his arrival.
She’d been happy to have one parent—why couldn’t he?
‘You’re being daft now. I know for a fact you and Quinn live in the same house. I bet you’ve even got a football-themed room.’ As usual Matt was the one to coax him back out of his cotton cocoon.
‘I’ve got space stuff.’ Simon sniffed.
‘Wow! You’re one lucky wee man. I had to share a room with my sisters so it was all flowers and pink mushy stuff when I was growing up.’
‘Yuck!’
‘Yuck indeed.’ Matt gave an exaggerated shudder at the memory but it gave Quinn a snapshot of his early life, outnumbered by girls.
‘Do you wanna come see?’ He peeked his head above the cover to witness the fallout of his latest demand.
This time Matt turned to her for answers.
They were stuffed.
If she said no, she hadn’t a hope of getting Simon home without a struggle and she was too exhausted to face it. A ‘yes’ meant inviting Matt further into their personal lives and they couldn’t keep relying on him to solve their problems. He’d made it clear he didn’t want to be part of any family apart from the one he’d already raised. In her head she knew it was asking for trouble but her heart said, ‘Yes, yes, yes!’ So far, he’d been the one blazing ember of hope in the dark ashes of the fire.
She gave a noncommittal shrug, leaving the final decision with him. It was a cop out on her behalf, but if he wanted out, now was the time to do it. She was putting her faith in him but his hesitation was more comforting than it should’ve been. At least she wasn’t the only one being put on the spot and it proved some things were beyond even his control. His mind wasn’t made up one way or the other about getting further entangled in this mess and that had to be more promising than a firm no.
‘My apartment isn’t too far away… I suppose I could get my car, drop you two home and take a quick peek at your room…’ The confidence had definitely left his voice.
A five-year-old had got the better of both of them.
‘I really couldn’t ask you to—’
‘Cool!’ Simon cut off the polite refusal she was trying to make so Matt didn’t feel obligated, even though she didn’t mean it. Inside, she was happy-dancing with her foster son.
‘Well, it would save us a taxi fare.’ She folded easily. A ride home would be so much less stressful than the Tube or a black cab. As efficient as the London transport system was, it wasn’t traumatised-child-friendly. The fewer strangers Simon had to encounter straight after his surgery, the better.
‘I’ll go get the car and meet you out front in about thirty minutes. That should give you plenty of time to get ready.’ He bolted from the room as soon as she gave the green light. It was impossible to tell whether he wanted to put some distance between them as soon as possible, or whether he intended to get the job done before he changed his mind. Whatever his motives, she was eternally grateful.
For the first night in weeks, she wasn’t dreading going home.
Matt stopped swearing at himself the moment he clocked the two figures huddled at the hospital entrance waiting for him. He’d been beating himself up about getting roped into this, but seeing them clutching each other’s hands like two lost bodies in the fog, he knew he’d done the right thing. He wouldn’t have slept if he’d gone home and left Quinn wrestling a clearly agitated child into the back of a taxi. For some reason his presence was enough to diffuse the tension between the two and, as Simon’s healthcare provider, it was his duty to ease him back to normality after his surgery. Besides, it was only a lift, something he would do for any of his friends in need.
The only reason he’d hesitated was because he didn’t want people like Rebecca, or Quinn, reading too much into it. He really hadn’t been able to refuse when he’d had two sets of puppy dog eyes pleading with him to help.
‘Nice car.’ Quinn eyed his silver convertible with a smile as he pulled up.
‘A treat to myself. Although I don’t get out in it as often as I’d hoped. Much easier to walk around central London.’ It had been his one great extravagance and what might appear to some as a cliché; to him it had been a symbol of his long-awaited independence.
Yet here he was, strapping a small child into the back seat…
‘Yeah. This is made for long drives in the country with the top down.’ She ran her hand over the car’s smooth curves, more impressed than a lot of his friends who thought it was tragic attention-seeking on his part.
‘That’s the idea.’ Except now he had the image of Quinn in the passenger seat, her ash brown hair blowing in the wind, without a care in the world, he wondered if it was time he traded it in for something more practical, more sedate.
Quinn’s modest house was far enough from the hospital to make travel awkward but it had the bonus of peace and quiet. It was the perfect suburban semi for a happy family and the complete opposite of his modern bachelor pad in the heart of the city. He at least had the option of walking to PCH and did most days. Since moving to London he’d fully immersed himself in the chaos around him. Probably because he’d spent most of his years at the beck and call of his siblings, his surroundings dictated by the needs of his dependents. This kind of white picket fence existence represented a prison of sorts to him and he couldn’t wait to get back to his alternative, watch-TV-in-my-pants-if-I-want-to lifestyle.
‘You can’t get much better than a taxi straight to your door.’ He pulled the handbrake on with the confidence of a man who knew he’d be leaving again soon. This was the final destination for any feelings or responsibility