Alison Roberts - Hot Docs On Call - Healing His Heart

‘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 he felt for Quinn and Simon today. Tomorrow was another day and brought another list of vulnerable patients who would need him.

‘I really can’t thank you enough, Matt. I wasn’t up to another burst of tantrum before we left.’ Quinn’s slow, deliberate movements as she unbuckled her seat belt showed her weariness and reluctance to go inside.

The stress she was under was relentless—juggling Simon’s injuries with the fostering process and her job. All on her own. The two of them could probably do with a break away from it all.

He glanced back at Simon. ‘Someone’s out for the count now. He shouldn’t give you any more trouble.’

‘If I can get him up to bed without disturbing him I might actually get a few hours to get some work done. Then I’ll be on standby for the rest of the night with pain relief when he needs it.’ She was yawning already at the mere mention of the night ahead.

‘Make sure you get a couple of hours’ sleep too.’

‘That’s about as much as we’re both getting at the moment.’ She gave a hollow laugh. The lack of sleep would definitely account for the short tempers and general crankiness, not to mention the emotional outbursts.

‘Why don’t you open the door and I’ll carry Sleeping Beauty inside for you?’

She was strong and stubborn enough to manage on her own, he was sure—after all, she’d been coping this far on her own—but it didn’t seem very gentlemanly to leave her to carry the dead weight of a sleeping child upstairs. If he delivered Simon directly to his bed there was more chance of him getting out of here within the next few minutes. That was his excuse and he was sticking to it.

Quinn opened her mouth as if to argue the point, then thought better of it, going to open the door for them and leaving him to scoop Simon out of the back seat. It was an indication of how weary she was when she gave in so easily.

As Matt carried Simon up the steep staircase to bed, careful not to jar his arm in the process, he knew he’d made the right call. Leaving a tired, petite Quinn to manage this on her own would have been an accident waiting to happen. He’d had enough experience of doing this with baby sisters who’d sat up long past their bedtimes to negotiate the obstacle with ease.

‘Which way?’ he mouthed to Quinn, who was waiting for them on the landing.

‘In here.’ She opened one of the doors and switched on the rocket-shaped night light at the side of the small bed.

Matt eased him down onto the covers and let Quinn tuck him in. She was so tenderly brushing his hair from his face and making sure he was comfortable that in that moment an outsider wouldn’t have known they were anything other than biological mother and son.

They tried to tiptoe out of the room together but Simon unfurled his foetal position and rolled over.

‘Do you like my room, Matt?’ he mumbled, half asleep and hardly able to keep his eyes open.

‘Yeah, mate. You’re one lucky boy.’ He could see how much effort Quinn had gone to in order to create the perfect little boy’s room. From the glow-in-the-dark stars on the ceiling, to the planet-themed wallpaper, it had been co-ordinated down to the very last detail. The sort of bedroom a young boy sharing a council flat with three sisters could only have dreamed about.

‘Now Matt’s seen your room he has to go and you need to get some sleep.’ Quinn tucked the loosened covers back around him.

‘What-about-the-zoo?’ he said in one breath as his eyes fluttered shut again.

‘We’ll do that another day,’ she assured him, and tried to back out of the room again.