Gay Times

On 5 December 2005 Matthew Roche made history by being one half of the first couple in Britain to have their relationship legally recognised as a civil partnership. The next day he died. Here, his partner, Christopher Cramp talks to GT about when they met, how they fell in love and why getting wed was Matthew's last wish.

There are no tick boxes that describe Chris and Matthew's relationship. As Chris searches for a path through the forest of paperwork surrounding Matthew's death he keeps coming across the same three boxes to choose from - single, married, divorced - none of which is legally accurate. "I've had phone calls from various departments saying this is the first case they've had to deal with," says Chris. "And I've had letters included with some forms saying 'We do apologise and we hope it doesn't offend, it's just our documentation hasn't been updated yet.'" Chris, 37, has instead taken to ticking the married box and then scribbling in 'civil partnership' underneath. He's not even sure what he's officially called now: "I'm the first civil partnership...," he pauses, unsure of the terminology, "widow, I suppose."

Twelve years earlier, in 1993, Matthew, then 34, and Chris's eyes first met across Brighton nightclub Secrets. "The first time I met him I knew he was a very special and genuine person and really good looking," says Chris. But despite this the relationship was somewhat of a slow burner. In fact it took five years for Chris to succumb to Matthew's charms - mainly because Chris insisted he was straight: "Matthew asked me out there and then and I remember thinking I really wanted to say yes but I didn't because I couldn't come to terms with my sexuality."

So, instead of becoming lovers, Matthew and Chris spent the next half decade becoming friends. Once in a while Matthew would raise the subject of their relationship but Chris, still not comfortable with who he was, would always turn him down. Sometimes Chris was in such mental turmoil he would be in tears by the time he returned home from Matthew's.

Then, on Christmas night 1998, it happened. "I knew Matthew was alone so I went over to spend the evening with him. I decided to stay over but Matthew was always very respectful of my feelings and previously nothing had ever happened. But that night, in the early hours of Boxing Day, we made love."

Chris was smitten: "He would look at me with these big green hazel eyes, and just by looking at them you could tell he was really happy. They would twinkle. And he had a beautiful smile - his whole face would light up."

But the timing was all wrong. Chris was about to embark on a mammoth backpacking trip around Australia: "I didn't know what to do. I was willing to cancel the whole trip to be with Matthew," says Chris, "But instead Matthew turned round and said he wanted to go with me. So he got leave and we spent the next few months as partners getting to know what we really wanted from life."

By the time they returned they were inseparable and could barley spend a night apart. They bought a bungalow in the Brighton suburb of Southwick. They painted the living room with colours that reminded them of warmer climes and planned a conservatory. Matthew continued his job as nursing assistant, while Chris became senior staff nurse at a hospital nearby.

Then, on Valentine's Day 2005, Matthew complained of a stomach ache. It didn't go away, for months. Matthew began to dramatically lose weight. Then, almost overnight, the pain intensified: "I remember him actually saying 'I've got something serious,'" Chris recalls, "He said 'I think I'm going to die.'" But nothing could be diagnosed. At one point the doctors even suggested Matthew had an HIV test: "I said to Matthew, 'If you were sitting here with your girlfriend he wouldn't have said that'. It just annoyed me." The test came back negative.

"He said I was in denial but I said that until we get the diagnosis you've got to hope it's not cancer." But in late October, the hospital found an inoperable tumour the size of a tennis ball hidden beneath Matthew's liver. "He could never accept why it was happening to him.'I've done nothing wrong', he would say."

The couple had talked about marriage, as they insisted on calling civil partnership, and planned to do it sometime in 2006 or seven: "Not to prove anything to family and friends," comments Chris, "Just to show that 'yes, you are the one'". But events were racing ahead: "Time is running out," said Matthew, "In the eyes of the law we're just two people living together. I think we ought to get married."

Matthew was deteriorating and it seemed increasingly unlikely he would make the first day of English civil partnerships on 21 December. Worthing Register Office confirmed, however, that in these circumstances an exception could be made and the 15 day notice period waived. Hence, by the cruellest of technicalities, the couple were to jump to the front of the civil partnership queue.

As the fifth approached Matthew's pain was increasing. By now he couldn't walk and the doctors suggested his drug dosage be increased - the side effects of which would make Matthew increasingly drowsy: "I remember Matthew saying 'I have to make the fifth. I want to make my day, I have to know what I'm doing' and so he refused the painkillers."

Miraculously, however, he rallied round and as the guests were gathered in Worthing's St Barnabas' Hospice for the service he refused Chris's offer to push him into the chapel: "He wheeled himself in with so much gusto," says Chris, "that you could see our guests were amazed at his determination. He went so fast he even knocked a table out of the way.

"The Registrar confirmed we were the first couple in West Sussex to enter civil partnership and she believed we were the fist in the UK. And I could see it in Matthew's eyes. Not 'wow', just a surprise. We didn't expect to make history.

"That night the nurses wheeled a bed into Matthew's room for me and as I crawled in beside him I said 'Thank you for marrying me'. He said to me 'Do you regret meeting me after all I've put you through?' And I said 'Even if I knew this was going to happen I would never have regretted spending these years with you'. Matthew helped me come to terms with being gay. He changed my life for the better." They held hands as they drifted off to sleep.

In the morning Matthew didn't wake up. The doctors said he was close to the end so the family decided it was time to gather by his bedside: "We continued talking to him and when we did he raised his eyebrows and you could see his forehead creasing," says Matthew.

"His breathing shallowed and I sat there holding his hand and went round saying everyone's name. I said 'Your Mum and Dad's here; my parents are here; Nicky's here, Martin, Annette and Anne-Marie.' And a few minutes later he just passed away. It was almost as if he was waiting to ensure everyone he cared about was with him.

"I believe that when you love someone it shouldn't matter who that person is. There's already so much hate in the world; what right has anyone to stop another human being from showing love? For Matt and I getting married wasn't about gay rights, it was about equal rights to be with someone you want to be with."

What does Chris think the future holds for civil partnerships? "I have a niece and nephew, Rosie and Adam, and my sister's keeping a scrapbook of all the articles about me and Matthew. And she hopes that one day, 20 years down the line, they will look at this scrapbook and think: 'What was all the fuss about?'"

"And I could see it in Matthew's eyes. Not 'wow', just a surprise. We didn't expect to make history."

Christopher Cramp