Dr Right For The Single Mum. Alison Roberts

a little as she made her way back to the paediatric ward, where she’d left Harry happily watching a movie with his new friend, Aroha—a little girl with Down’s syndrome who had been admitted to be reassessed and prepared for heart surgery.

      Prattling on about playing the best game you could with cards being dealt in the game of life had made her sound like the kind of inspirational quotes that went around on social media.

      And what about the way Tom had been looking at her while she’d been saying it all? She’d never seen an expression like that on his face. As if he understood. As if that whole conversation had been very, very personal. That had felt weird.

      Okay, Laura was well aware of how attractive Tom Chapman was. She’d heard plenty of women—staff members and even patients—who’d sighed over that combination of height, wavy hair, dark eyes and that killer smile. It wasn’t just his looks, either. He had a way of focusing on people that made it obvious he was really listening. That what you thought or what you had to say was important.

      That he cared.

      Surely there wasn’t a woman on earth who wouldn’t have her heart touched by feeling that someone really cared. Maybe that was why she had stumbled into saying things that were too personal. Too emotional. For the first time, Laura had been affected by this man’s personality on a level she’d never encountered before. She’d never thought of Tom as anything but one of the best doctors she’d ever had the privilege of working with. And a man she could trust not to come too close.

      She took the stairs rather than stand with the group of people waiting for a lift to arrive. It could have been worse, she reminded herself as she began the climb to the third floor. She could have broken even more personal barriers and told him why Harry’s premature birth and the months that had followed had been such a challenge—a fight for her own survival as much as her precious baby’s.

      It had been a long time since Laura had allowed herself to remember the horror of what had happened but it was inevitable that being on a staircase right now would set off those flashbacks she’d thought she’d conquered long ago.

      The fear of believing that she was about to be hurt. Again. That the baby she was carrying could be in danger from its own father. Stepping back to try and find safety, only to feel that there was nothing beneath her foot, that she was falling and knowing in that same moment that the accusation that would come—that this was all her own fault—would certainly be true this time. Brent’s voice when the paramedics had arrived.

       ‘She just missed the step somehow... I tried to catch her but I couldn’t... She fell all the way to the bottom of the stairs... Is she bleeding? Is she going to be okay? What about the baby?’

      Laura’s breath hitched as she pushed herself up the last flight of stairs. “The baby”—her precious Harry—had survived the emergency Caesarean and those weeks in the paediatric intensive care unit. He would never know about the night, just before he’d been allowed to come home, when Laura had stood up to his father during one of his alcohol-fuelled rages and threatened to call the police, and told him that she would do whatever it took to make sure her baby was safe from him. He had vanished from her life by the time she took her baby home and that was the start of a whole new struggle where Laura had to try and ensure that they both not only survived but thrived.

      The early years had been incredibly tough but when she’d chosen to live with flatmates so that she and Harry weren’t cooped up in a tiny flat and so isolated, life had settled into something that was as good as it could get, as far as Laura was concerned. Harry had been so happy at home, especially after he’d started at the nearby school. Laura had found great friends in her flatmates and then their partners, and had two jobs that she loved equally—being a senior nurse in the Royal’s Accident and Emergency department and being Harry’s mum.

      Laura pushed open the firestop door in the stairwell and walked towards the brightly decorated entrance to the paediatric ward. Totally out of the blue, she had a new challenge that was every bit as terrifying as when she’d sat beside that incubator in Intensive Care, praying that her baby would make it. And yeah... Tom probably thought she was flaky, talking about playing the best game of life that you could with the cards you had been dealt and how you had no choice but to fight for the people you loved, but...those words of hers had been true, hadn’t they?

      At least Laura knew how to fight and that it was possible to win in the end.

      She’d never been more determined that she was going to win a battle, either. Previous experience was helpful in reassuring her that she did have the strength. That, even if it felt like an impossible ask and you were on the brink of losing absolutely everything, you just had to keep going somehow—one step at a time—and eventually you’d find yourself on the other side. And it was going to be the winning side. It had to be.

      For Harry.

      And for herself.