Watch Over Me

(Another somewhat long one, I'm afraid. Thanks go to Dawnj for helping out! Whatever mistakes there are, are entirely mine.)

I. Parents' Night

When Anne Tyler had dismissed her last class of the day she sat down at her desk and stared out of the window, without taking in the view. Three o'clock -- four hours before the parents' night would start. She rather disliked parents' nights. When she'd started teaching, almost twenty years ago, the general idea was that students with insufficient results ought to make more of an effort. Slowly, however, the idea had taken root that the teacher apparently hadn't done the student's best, and what was she going to do about it? What indeed! She'd liked teaching and everything about it then. But now most of her peers had gone on to different schools, or become important. She felt quite isolated, and she wished she had a friend to talk to. It seemed as if no one ever noticed anyone any more.

Then there was her housing situation. Gayle, with whom she shared an apartment, had a new boyfriend whom she abhorred. He really was a creep, and she felt unsafe in her own room. Moreover, Gayle officially rented the place, and she wanted her out. It was really impossible for her to stay. She made an effort not to worry about that just now, but instead she chucked her books into her old leather bag, ran her hands through her hair -- which didn't do anything toward making it look tidier -- got up and made for the teachers' common room. She almost ran into Mo Matheson, the head of English, in the corridor.

"I'm sorry," she mumbled, "I wasn't thinking."

He grinned at her. "Is it tonight's do?" he asked. "I don't particularly like that either. Always the same silly questions. Will you go home in between?"

She shook her head. Home...no place like home, probably, if you really had one. She swallowed. "I'll see if I can find something to eat in town," she said.

Mo looked at her critically. "Are you alright?" he said. "You look rather blue. Can I help or anything?"

Anne shook her head. Damn -- someone being kind... She got tears in her eyes. "I'm fine," she said. "Really."

"Honestly?" Mo asked, and then the tears started rolling down her cheeks. Mo took her arm and herded her into the nearest empty classroom. He took a handkerchief from his pocket and handed it to her, and she sniffled and blew her nose.

He patted her back and then said, "I've watched you slowly go silent and cheerless, you know. I know it's none of my business, but I'd love to help if I could. I'll go home for dinner. Why don't you come along -- if you don't mind taking pot luck? If you want to, you can tell me all about it then -- and if you don't, well, there's no bones broken, either."

He stood looking at her a little awkwardly. Mo was a self-confessed bachelor, who lacked the ease in dealing with women that many of his contemporaries had, though he was quite appreciative of them. He had had a girlfriend once, but she'd run off with a gold necklace he'd inherited when his parents died, and since then he'd just been pursuing his own road, a little lonely but clearly his own, and his alone. However, he thought Anne was beautiful, and a nice lass, too -- she was just a little younger than his forty-five years. She had beautiful auburn hair that she wore half way down her back, or put up with a comb in a slightly untidy bun, which made her seem quite attractive, and she had a good figure -- nice legs and curves where he loved them best, breasts and bottom -- into the bargain. He was more aware of her, and admired her far more than he had any other woman in a long time, though he had never acted on it.

"Well, what do you think?" he prompted her, when she hesitated.

"Yes, please -- if you're sure?" she said. "It sounds nicer than eating out alone somewhere."

He nodded again, happy that they would be spending some time alone together. "I'm ready when you are," he said. .

She smiled a little wanly. "Okay," she said.

They picked up their coats, walked to the car park and got into Mo's car. "It's only ten minutes," he explained.

Anne looked at him from the corner of her eyes while he drove. She'd always thought he was a rather vague, friendly man -- the kind you take for granted, not someone you'd think would notice things. But the students liked him, she knew. And it seemed he was good at teaching. She had sometimes wondered about his life, and about what else he was good at. He had dark blonde hair streaked with grey, and he wore spectacles with very thin metal rims. She turned her head his way and looked at him critically for a moment. To her surprise, he actually looked quite nice. In fact, he was quite a handsome man, and it struck her with some force. She hadn't really looked at him before, and she realized she had been guilty of doing what everyone else usually did with him, and had not been paying attention to who he was. She looked ahead again, feeling bad about it.

They left the outskirts of town and drove through the wood. When they came out at the other end, there were meadows and trees. The road went uphill for some time, and when they rounded the top, Anne saw a few big fields with clumps of trees and a few hedges separating the fields. Mo left the road and turned into a kind of drive that ran between hedges for a few hundred yards.

Then he said, "We're here."

His house was fairly big and well kept, she saw. It was surrounded by a wide lawn, with some trees, most of them quite old, and very tall, and a few small flower beds planted with colourful perennials. He drove up to the front door and said, "Welcome," with a little smile. She got out and walked with him to the door, which he opened to let her in. Once inside, he took her coat, hanging it carefully in the hall closet.

"It's a somewhat idiosyncratic house," he said, "but I rather like it. I'll shove the meat into the oven and make something to drink. Tea or coffee?"

Anne chose coffee. Mo showed her into the living-room and went into the kitchen. Anne walked around, checking out the room. It was big and light and, she thought, a typically male room. Books, music, a lot of pictures on the walls, and a fireplace that could be closed with glass doors and was obviously used a lot. There were two big loudspeakers strategically placed next to the CD player, where there was the latest CD by Laura Marling, and on the floor a cardboard sleeve that said, "Chet Is Back."

She looked at his bookcase and saw that there were a few shelves devoted exclusively to poetry. He seemed to enjoy the works of Graves, De la Mare, St. Vincent Millay and the Elizabethans. On the wall there was one watercolour that caught her attention. It was a picture of a woman in a red dress holding a fan. When she looked at it closely she saw that it was signed "Matthijs Maris" in one of the sticks. She wondered who the painter and his subject were.

"That's nice," she said when Mo came in and saw her looking at it.

He nodded. "Yes," he said, "I like it a lot. She always cheers me up." He smiled. "That one does, too," and he pointed out a small nude in oils. "It's by Ted Auld, a friend of mine. I bought it a couple of years ago."

He looked at it pensively for some moments. He liked Ted a lot, and he wished he could paint and see a woman like that in the nude -- instead of only in paintings. He'd asked Ted who she was, but apparently it was a model with a few additions and changes of Ted's. He suspected the model might have been Ted's wife, Medbh, but she didn't have her looks.

"Coffee," he said, bringing himself back to the moment with a shake of his head. He put a large mug and a saucer with biscuits on a side table, and directed her to a chair. He sat down himself, and took a big sip from his own mug of coffee.

"It's really good to live close by," he said, making conversation, trying to draw her out. "I hate hanging around at school when I can go home and be at my own place instead. You live an hour away, don't you?"

She nodded. She looked at him for a moment, and then stared out of the window at the view of a large meadow sloping down to the river, with another small wood in the background. Mo looked at her and waited to see if she were going to say anything. She looked back at him and shook her head. He could see the struggle she was having to say what was clearly weighing her down, and he felt immensely sad for her. She was too beautiful to be in such obvious distress, and he hoped he could help her with whatever was making her so upset.

"I'm in a spot of trouble," she said. "I think I'll tell you -- maybe you can think of something."

She lifted her mug and drank, and then she put it down and said, "I share an apartment with another woman, Gayle Morrison. I had a boyfriend once, and when we split, years ago, it seemed the best thing to do. Gayle and I didn't know each other very well, but we could share expenses -- I didn't have anything. My parents died leaving only debts. It is a furnished apartment, so I didn't need any furniture." She took another sip of her coffee.

"My parents died in a car crash. I had to borrow a lot of money for the funeral, so I had a hard time financially for years. That's why I don't have a car. I've been trying to save up since I paid off the loan to get enough money to rent a place of my own -- or buy one, better still. Gayle's the one who officially rents the apartment. She found a boyfriend, unfortunately for me, and now she wants me out. I don't trust the boyfriend so I lock my room when I go to sleep. It doesn't feel like home at all, any more. It feels unsafe, with this guy sneaking up on you silently, and just watching. He seems very possessive towards Gayle, but I shouldn't wonder if he has the odd girlfriend on the side. I don't seem to be able to find a place to rent in the neighbourhood. I don't want a room in a boarding-house..."

Her voice trailed off, her eyes seeing a clearly unsettling future as she stared into her coffee. Mo nodded. "No," he agreed, "you're too old for that, and I think you're the wrong person to be happy there."

Anne sighed heavily. "The estate agents don't have any apartments handy at the moment, apart from a few that are far above my budget."

Mo looked at her pensively. He saw no other way out but the one he was about to suggest to her. It would probably come as a shock to her -- it certainly was to him, as he had never acted on an impulse like this before in his life. But there it was, and he couldn't muster even a scrap of concern at his unexpected behaviour. Everything would be all right. He had to believe that. He shook himself mentally, and then he said,

"I don't want to butt in, but if you need accommodation fast you're welcome to stay here. I've got a few spare rooms, and I don't think I'll be in your way." When she didn't respond at once, he added hurriedly, "Shall I show you?"

She raise her eyebrows and looked at him, still without replying.

"I know," he said, attempting to lighten the mood and lessen the shock of his offer, "I'm a dubious character. But I promise to behave." He grinned wryly at her, silently acknowledging the lameness of his joke.

"That's not what I thought," she finally answered, blushing. "It's just, er -- I don't want to be a nuisance..." Again her voice trailed off.

"Look," Mo said, "Let's have a look before we decide anything, okay? It might be too small for you."

"Are you really sure?"

Her uncertainty was painful to him. "Oh yes," he replied immediately. "I'd hate to see you look permanently the way you did this afternoon."

He got up, and walked toward the doorway. Anne decided it might be worth having a look. She smiled at Mo a little nervously, but followed him out of the living room. He took her upstairs and showed her two rooms that obviously weren't often used, a bedroom and a sitting room.

"They're intended for visitors," he explained. "But I hardly ever get any, and the few friends that do come to visit are all couples and I put them in a different bedroom."

She saw, as she looked out of the window, that the small sitting room must be on the same side of the house as the living-room. There was the view of the river and the wood beyond.

"Oh, look!" she said, her voice cheerful for the first time. "There's a couple of deer down there!"

Mo smiled. "There's a lot of them around," he said. "We can share the kitchen and the living-room," he added, getting back to the business at hand.

She nodded. "I think I'd love to come here for the time being, thank you," she said. "May I really?"

"Of course," he said, relieved to have the matter settled. "Let's go downstairs again, shall we?"

In the kitchen, Mo began by cooking the vegetables, while Anne wandered back to the living room and had a look at his CD collection. She found Joni Mitchell's "Blue", put it into the CD player and skipped to track eight.

"It's coming on Christmas

They're cutting down trees

They're putting up reindeer

And singing songs of joy and peace

Oh I wish I had a river I could skate away on..."

She'd so often wished she could leave her old life behind, skate away and forget about Gayle, and her parents' death. Skating away on a river had seemed a brilliant idea. She wondered if she'd still want to, living at Mo's... Maybe not, she thought..

Dinner was good. Mo had made roast chicken and a vegetable curry. Anne found that Mo was a better cook than she'd expected -- obviously she was prejudiced about a man's ability to cook a decent meal, she realised with a wry smile. Her father hadn't been able to boil an egg, let alone concoct anything remotely edible. When they'd finished and packed the dishes in the dishwasher, Mo suggested that they could go and pick up the things Anne needed after the evening's talks.

Anne nodded. "I think everything will fit into your car," she said. "I don't have much more than my clothes, toiletries and a few boxes of books."

"I wish I could offer you a drink -- later tonight, perhaps," Mo said. "It won't do for you to smell of alcohol now, though. Another coffee, then?"

They sat peacefully in the living-room for a while, not talking, just listening to another CD Anne had chosen. Anne felt relieved no end, and the approaching parent's night seemed rather less of a hurdle, all of a sudden. They drove back to school in time. Anne had six parents, five from seven to eight fifteen and one from a quarter to nine to nine. Mo had only two, and he sat reading in the teachers' common room until Anne had finished.

He gave her a warm smile when she walked into the room. "Okay," he said, "ready?" They went to his car and drove north on the motorway. Anne gave directions when they'd reached her town, and Mo found that she did so in a pleasant way, leaving him enough time to do as she told him.

When they arrived at the apartment, Anne told Gayle she was moving out. Gayle greeted her move with obvious enthusiasm. It didn't take long to transfer Anne's belongings to the back of Mo's car. Gayle didn't lend a hand. When they had almost finished emptying her room, Gayle's boyfriend, Dwayne Tranter, walked in. He was a lean, gangly fellow with slightly slick, straight black hair. He just stood looking at them, leaning against the door jamb, but when Mo looked into his face he shifted his focal point. Mo took an immediate dislike to the fellow, which manifested itself in his being over-polite, something Anne would come to recognise over time.

When they drove off, Anne said, "Did you notice she didn't even ask where I was going? I lived in the same place as she for nigh on fifteen years!"

Mo shook his head. "Not very nice," he said. "That boyfriend of hers is a bad 'un if ever there was one -- you're better off without the two of them."

He drove on in silence. After quite some time he said, "I hope Gayle knows what she's doing. I wouldn't trust any woman with that man."

Anne nodded; it was what she'd felt all along. She let her thoughts wander aimlessly until they were once again parked in front of Mo's home. It was with a sigh of contentment that she carried her stuff into Mo's house -- or at least, the part he didn't bring up for her. When everything had been placed in her new rooms, Mo asked, "Care to come to the living-room for a drink, or would you rather go and unpack?"

She grinned at him. "A drink, please," she replied without hesitation. Her heart was lighter, and she felt as though she should celebrate her great good fortune.

II. Winter

Anne found Mo was an easygoing and engaging housemate. They ate together, they frequently spent some time together in the evenings, they went to school together, and they still led their own lives. She had unpacked her books and put them on a couple of shelves in the guest sitting-room, and she had put her CDs -- only a fraction of Mo's collection -- in alphabetical order, and after having been there for a few weeks she bought a bottle of whisky and invited Mo up for a drink at her place. They had a nice time listening to her music. She first played a CD with tribute songs to Dolly Parton. Mo especially liked Mindy Smith's version of Jolene.

"Very nice," he said. "Can I have a look through your CDs?" He rummaged through them and found a copy of Dire Straits' first album.

"Oh, nice," he said. "Can you play this, please? It's an old favourite of mine!"

Anne beamed, and took the CD from him. "Of course," she said.

She slipped the disc into the player and started "Sultans of Swing". Mo saw that for a moment there was a faraway look in her eyes -- not like the one he'd notice at school, looking ahead at trouble, but one looking back into a past that must have been nice.

"Good memories?" he asked.

Anne blushed a little and nodded. "Yes," she said. "I was in love then..." She let the sentence drop there, but she treated Mo to a brilliant smile.

They ended up talking about school and the surroundings. When she mentioned how happy she felt he'd intervened that parents' night she looked at him straight, for a long time. Mo noticed that Anne's brown eyes had a tinge of green to them -- they were big eyes, too. He loved them -- nothing like his own!

She did a lot of walking at weekends. There were some very good public footpaths around, one leading directly into town, and Mo had shown her a few tracks when she had just moved. Mo sometimes came with her, but he spent most of his weekends writing and making music. Anne thought it was because he wanted his privacy, and she would have been genuinely surprised if she knew that it was really because he didn't want to intrude but to leave her enough space to lead her own life in spite of being in a strange house.

They took turns cooking; when they did the cooking they bought and paid for the food, too. Mo clearly was the better cook, but he always seemed to enjoy Anne's cooking as much as she did his. He really enjoyed dinner together. He used to have his meals on a plate on his lap, sitting in front of the fire reading, or out in the garden listening to the birds. Talking, and smiling at a table partner was something he'd almost forgotten, apart from the few occasions when he entertained friends or was visiting them.

Two months after Anne moved in, as she was relaxing after her evening meal, having a coffee as she perused the evening papers, she noticed an article which reported that Gayle Morrison had been found strangled in her apartment. There were no traces of the perpetrator apart from DNA material under her nails, and the police were hoping some information might come forward.

Anne hurried downstairs to Mo, not even thinking about whether or not she was interrupting his evening ritual, or about whether or not he might have a guest. She burst into the living room brandishing the paper and imploring him to read the news item. Mo took the paper from her and skimmed through the article. Then he read it more slowly before looking at Anne with a look of horror on his face. He shook his head.