I Will Always Be By Your Side
Oh, dont start again! Rebecca sighed, flicking her hand dismissively and turning back to her hob. Weve done this a thousand times! Why bring it up now?
Today had been the freshest shade of miserable. It all began at five in the morning when young Oliver padded into her bedroom and poked her shoulder.
Mum! My throat hurts!
Rebecca, not really awake, pressed her lips to her sons forehead. In an instant, sleep vaporised.
Youve got a temperature, love. Come on then. Scooping Oliver into her arms, she quietly closed the door behind her, desperate to avoid her husband Ian later complaining about his broken sleep.
She took Olivers temperature, gave him Calpol, and tucked him back under his duvet. Checking the time, she decided there was little point going back to bed; better to wait for the GP surgery to open and try for a home visit. Once sure Oliver was sleeping, Rebecca crept to the kitchen and brewed a cup of tea, gazing out the window.
That years winter was daftly snowyeven by Englands stingy standards. The garden below was smothered under a thick layer of white, untrodden except for faint tracks winding away, left by early commuters braving the cold. Out of the corner of her eye, Rebecca spotted movement and couldnt help but smile. Mrs. Thompsons cat, Pickles, was bounding about, vanishing up to his ears in the snowdrifts, only to resurface elsewhere, looking rather pleased with himself. Whod want to be outside in this weather? Not that Pickles mindedhe had principles, you see. Absolutely refused to do his business in a litter tray, so Mrs. Thompson was obliged to let him out on demand. And when Pickles demanded, everyone in the building knew about it. His caterwauling could startle the dead if the door wasnt opened in time. Still, in his defence, not once had he left any surprises indoors. Just yesterday, when Rebecca popped downstairs to collect Oliver from nursery, she saw Pickles striding purposefully towards the door, loudly meowing his list of grievances.
Go on, off with you! Mrs. Thompson had called, catching Rebeccas eye. Would you look at this rascal? I sometimes think he runs this place, not me. All bossy paws and attitude! Got home late from work and now, look, heres my telling-off.
Hello, Mrs. Thompson! He does take himself very seriously, doesnt he? Rebecca replied.
Oh, youve no idea! Honestly, its my fateraising serious men, furry or otherwise…
Rebecca just smiled and continued upstairs. She didnt have much to add; Mrs. Thompsons son, Matthew, was indeed the serious type. Clever, thoughtful, with a wry sense of humourbut that seemed lost on most people. To them, Matthew was just a weedy, bespectacled fiddler who rarely caught a second glance, especially not from girls. But Rebecca and Matthew had been friends for as long as she could remember. In fact, as far back as her memory stretched, Matthew was always therenever far, always solid.
He had, after all, helped when Rebeccas mother, Irene, was tragically killed at a zebra crossing. Shed been following every rule to the letterdidnt do her any good. That stuck with Rebecca, being raised to believe that, if you did everything right, life couldnt upend you.
She and Matthew were both ten at the time. The loss was so overwhelming that Rebecca withdrew completelyshe hardly spoke, only wept. Shed shake her head whenever anyone tried to comfort her, closing herself off in another room or hiding in the bathroom. More than once, shed simply curl up in a corner and drift off to sleep, exhausted. A child psychologist, whom her dad took her to see, quickly raised alarm bells. Something had to be donethe grief was already affecting Rebeccas health.
In the end, it was Matthew who cut through the fog. Having lost his own father two years earlier, he understood Rebecca in ways that adults simply couldnt. He all but moved in, something Mrs. Thompson permitted without much fuss, out of compassion. She and the other neighbours did what they could, taking turns to mind the girl and drop off groceries when Rebeccas father had errands. And so, not once did Mrs. Thompson complain about her son coming home late after a long day spent coaxing Rebecca through homework, reading aloud to her, dragging her outside to dance classes and gymnasticsher mothers old dream. Little by little, the concern and steadfastness of that awkward, serious boy did the trick. Rebecca came back to life. The first time she spoke since the tragedy was the day they found a scrawny kitten shivering in a cardboard box and brought him home to Mrs. Thompson, pleading for milk to feed him. Mrs. Thompson handed over a bottle and quietly murmured, Thank the Lord! Shes come round at last.
The kitten, banned from Rebeccas flat due to her fathers allergies, stayed with Matthew. And Matthew just kept going, escorting his friend everywhere he could. Rebecca grew so used to his presence that it felt as natural as breathing. Both only children, they filled the gaps in each others livessupport, laughter, and a closeness you seldom find even between siblings.
Often, they didnt need to say a word to know just what the other was thinking. Rebecca could start a sentence, Matthew would finish it. Adults were perpetually bewildered by their closeness, but let them be, quietly approving of a friendship that helped two wounded kids weather their pain.
Trouble only brewed at the end of school. Rebecca blossomed into a clever, striking young woman, suddenly surrounded by a gaggle of would-be suitors. Matthew observed this landscape in glum silence, thinking it didnt matterRebecca seemed thoroughly indifferent to the fuss. At least, until Ian appeared.
Shed met him after tumbling down the steps outside the leisure centre where she did gymnastics.
You alright, love? Here, let me help you up, said a tall, charming chap, extending a hand. Blimey, sorry, these steps are murderare you hurt?
Rebecca looked up at her rescuer and froze. Shed always declared love at first sight was nonsense invented by Jane Austen and pop songs. But here she was, eating her words.
Im done for, Matthew! Just done! Hes
Hes what? Matthew frowned, but Rebecca was already off in a world of daydreams.
I cant explain just wonderful! Rebecca spun around the room beaming. Arent you supposed to be happy for your best friend?
Your best friend… sure. Im happy for you, Matthew forced a grin and muttered something about errands.
Rebecca hardly noticed, lost in happy clouds, and soon she and Ian were wrapped up in each other, seeing each other for over three years before deciding they were quite grown up enough to make things official. Bit of a shame I cant have my best mate as my bridesmaid. Why cant there be a Bridesman? Rebecca moaned, twirling before the mirror as her wedding dress was pinned and tucked.
Matthew, having dutifully driven her to the embroidery shop, sat glumly on the sofa as the tailor shooed him away. Bad luck for the groom to see the bride in her dress!
Hes not the groom! Rebecca giggled. Hes my friend!
Oh really? How odd… the seamstress replied, raising an eyebrow.
What’s so odd about it? Matthew interjected. Cant people be friends? Hurry up, Rebecca, we still need to sort the cake and Ive got to be at work before lunch.
Im going as fast as I can! Rebecca disappeared to try on another dress, leaving Matthew groaning into the sofa.
Looking back later at her whirlwind wedding and those early years of marriage, Rebecca wondered: how had she missed all those things in Ian that now tested every ounce of her patience? Shed always had her knightshed thoroughly believed shed always be the fairytale princess, to be rescued and cherished and adored. But, as it turns out, not all knights and tales are alike.
Trouble first showed itself when Rebecca fell ill just six months after the wedding. A standard case of tonsillitis, which she brushed off, wanting to be a good wife, spiralled into something more sinister. When she was advised to have some private testspartly paid, for heart troubleIan huffed:
Seriously? Weve saved that money for holiday! Youre young and fine, theyre just after our cash! Dont let them scare you.
Rebecca stared at him, stunned. You mean that?
Of course!
Ian her throat tightened uncomfortablylike she was twelve again, Is a holiday really more important than my health?
Don’t overreact. Once we get you some sun, you’ll perk right up. Youre just tired! He hugged her, oblivious to the fact she stood stiff, arms by her sides.
Her father covered the tests in quiet exasperation, never saying a negative word about his son-in-law, but making some mental notes. It took Rebecca nearly a year to recoverwell, mostly. Some heart problems lingered, the doctors resigned, recommending ongoing medication. When Rebecca found herself pregnant, she was promptly designated high risk.
I dont want to alarm you, the GP mused, leafing through her file. But you need to think very seriously, okay? Pregnancy can be a tremendous strainyour body is handling it for now, but it might not last.
No need to think, Im having this baby! Rebecca replied firmly.
Well then, lets do what we can.
They did. The last three months were spent in hospital, and when Oliver arrivedright on time and healthy, miraculously enoughonly two people truly understood what that had cost Rebecca: her father, and Matthew. That was when it genuinely hit her: Ian had his own life, in which she barely featured. When he heard the good news, he celebrated so raucously that he was incommunicado for three days; phone off, vanished. Rebecca was frantic, her father checking in and simply hugging her when she panicked.
Its fine, darling, dont worryyou just focus on yourself and the little one, he said. In that moment, Rebecca realisedshe was no fairy-tale princess in this story. Divorce seemed obvious, but seeing the way Ian was with Oliver stopped her short.
To her astonishment, Ian doted on their son, doing feeds, nappy changes, taking him for strolls, spending time together whenever possible. And yet, at unpredictable moments, the child got under his skin, and hed ask Rebecca to take him somewhere else. But then, soon after, hed be the worlds most devoted father again. Rebecca found these mood swings unsettlingone minute loving, the next weary and distant.
When it came to their marriage, it was clear: they now ran on parallel tracks, barely meeting at all.
Oliver, a sickly child for a while, kept Rebecca too busy for soul searching. She shuttled him from GP to paediatrician, always loath to ask for Ians help, not knowing which version of him shed get. Ian might be wonderfully attentive, grilling the doctor for every detail, or, equally likely, cause a scene if asked to run an errand. The whiplash got so tiresome that Rebecca learned to manage alone. Her father helped her learn to drive, minding Oliver during lessons, and even bought her a modest but reliable second-hand Ford to lessen dependence on Ians availability.
Rebeccas father recognised the truth about Ian long before she was ready to face it herself. He never interfered, just waited until she was ready to talk. Only once, when Oliver was two and feverish for days while Rebecca was running on fumesafter her son finally dozed off and she passed out clutching the sofa armrestdid he say anything.
Darling, Im not going to offer advice or ask loads of questions just remember, youre not on your own. Alright?
Thanks, Dad. Of course, I know that. Its just Im not ready yet, okay? Ian is still my husband. For now.
He simply nodded and hugged her.
All through that time, Matthew seemed to appear whenever help was needed. Sourcing medicine when Rebecca couldnt leave Oliver, fetching the doctor when her car broke down, seeing to car repairsno task was too much, no favour ever felt unwelcome. Rebecca sometimes felt guilty for relying on him, but he was the one person she could trust absolutely.
Now, standing at the frosted window, she remembered Matthew was returning from a work trip that afternoonand if she needed to get Oliver to the surgery, she could count on him. Her car was out of commission again, more seriously this time. Money was tight. Ian claimed every penny went into his business; Rebeccas own wages barely covered the essentials, as she was always off work with Olivers illnesses. At least they had her fathers flather dad now living quietly at his countryside cottage, away from the urban clamour.
Rebecca glanced at the clock and rang the GP surgery. As luck would have it, their regular doctor was back from holiday and agreed to a home visit at once.
She set the phone down and made a start on breakfast when Ian, bleary-eyed, wandered in.
Again? What were you two up to all night?
Olivers ill, Rebecca replied quietly.
And thats a reason for all-night chaos? Fine. Im off for a showeryoud better make breakfast sharpish, Im late as it is.
Rebecca turned her attention to her pancakescomfort food for Oliver, who, mercifully, wasnt a fussy patient but liked a get-well breakfast, as she called it. Since Ian liked them too, she figured breakfast might pass in peace.
So, talk to your dad yet?
No.
Why are you dragging your heels?
I told youIm not asking him to sign the flat over to us. Drop it.
Youre stubborn as a mule. I pay for this place but its not even ours. Youre always after somethingmoney for you, money for Oliver. I work myself to the bone; last holiday I saw was last year and youre still never happy!
Ian ranted on, but Rebecca had stopped listening. There, in that moment, it felt like some string finally snappedthe one that tethered her to him, strands that once held together first meetings, wedding vows, all the gentle kindness of earlier days, the joy of their son…
She set down her spatula quietly and turned.
Ill say this once, so listen, she interrupted. Today, youll pack your things and leave. Were getting a divorce, Ian. I dont want to live like this anymore and neither do you, if youre honest. We wont argue about the flat or anything else. I just want us to focus on Oliver. He needs both parents, even if theyre not under the same roof.
Ian stared, then tried to protest, but when she didnt budge, he got up, flinging his fork onto the table.
Have you finished? Think about what youre saying. Ill come back tonight and youll see sense.
You dont understand. Ive made up my mind. And you know me, Ianonce its decided, thats it.
Oh, brilliant. Wholl want you now, eh? Single mother and all. Ill be at my parents. Change your mindlet me know. He marched out, slamming the door, leaving Rebecca blinking back tears at the stove.
When she could finally trust herself to move, she slid into a chair and let herself cry until Olivers small, shuffling footsteps sounded in the hallway. Quickly drying her face, she set a plate for him.
Well now, the worlds healthiest ladfancy some breakfast?
Im not very hungry, Mum. My heads a bit sore now too.
Pancakes wont fix your head, will they?
I bet they will! Oliver grinned. If theres jam.
Always with jamof course.
Later, after the doctor had been and gone, writing out a prescription, Rebecca set off to the chemist. She nearly rang her dad but before she could, someone knocked at the doorno one ever knocked, except Matthew. For them, it was an unspoken code.
Hey there!
Hi! How are you two? Matthew stood grinning, a toy car in hand. Rebecca found herself trying to remember the last gift Ian had bought Oliverfor birthdays or Christmas, shed always sorted it. Matthew never turned up empty-handed.
Olivers caught something again. Will you sit with him while I dash to the chemist?
Of course I willor I could go for you; got a list?
Rebecca fished the prescription from her bag and handed it over.
Matthew had no sooner left than Rebeccas phone went off.
Mrs. Simmons?
Yes.
Its the hospital. Your fathers been admitted.
Whats happened? Rebeccas hands trembled.
Hes had a heart attack. Hes stable but its serious.
Im coming now.
She scurried around, lost in panic. Her father had never had heart trouble. Suddenly, she realised how thin the thread wasa single second, and the dearest person could be gone.
Instinctively, she called Ian.
Ian
What? Changed your mind? Now you want to talkwell, so do I, but
My dads in hospital. Heart attack.
And? What do you want me to do? Were getting divorced, remember?
Rebecca stared at the phone, stunned, then hung up.
When Matthew returned with the medication and saw Rebecca already in her coat, he raised an eyebrow.
Where to?
Dads had a heart attack. Hes in hospital.
Nothing more was needed. Matthew fetched his mum, and Mrs. Thompson stayed with Oliver while Matthew drove Rebecca to the hospital.
They waited for hours before any news came. Sitting side by side, neither spoke until Rebecca broke the silence at last.
Thank you. I dont know what Id do without you.
Ill always be here, Becks Always.
I know, Matthew. I do now.
When the doctor eventually came, he found Rebecca asleep, head resting on Matthews shoulder. Gently, Matthew nudged her awake.
Your dads been moved out of intensive care. It will take time, but hes out of danger. You should go home, get some rest, and call the ward tomorrow for visiting hours.
Rebecca silently hugged Matthew, crying tears that finallyfinallywashed away all the pain that had piled up over those tangled years.
