Ollie hugged her closer even as he winced at the jab and the nickname.
“I don’t care what they say, Mum, and you’re not an old trout, you’re a cougar!”
Carol looked up at him at that, all wide-eyed innocence. “‘Cougar’?”
Ollie grimaced, face flushing as he tried to get out the idea of a ‘cougar’ without actually offending her.
“You know, olde… I mean ‘mature’ hottie, I mean…”
Carol watched him twist in the wind, then turned up the heat a little with a look of combined innocence and incomprehension.
“So you think I’m one of these…’cougars’, then? What exactly does a ‘cougar’ do?”
Ollie felt his collar tightening as his internal temperature rose. Was it possible she really didn’t know what a cougar was, or was she just fucking with him?
“Olliekins…? she quavered, looking near tears again, so he plunged on; he had to; he’d gone there, and now there was no other way out of this.
“Look Mum, a ‘cougar’ is a beautiful … mature… lady who likes to … y’know… with younger guys… much… younger guys, oh jeez, Mum, haven’t you ever heard of, I mean, has no-one ever, y’know, I mean, don’t you ever read, y’know, like magazines and things, I thought like Cosmo would be, like, y’know, full of this stuff…? How about Izzy, she never once…?”
Carol stared at him, her eyes wide and shocked.
“Oh. OOOHH! You think people might think I was with you because I’m a ‘cougar’, and we’re doing… y’know?” She might have let him off there, but she couldn’t resist doing the clenched fist and elbow pumping gesture, complete with quizzical eyebrow, watching the colour drain from his face.
Ollie backpedalled furiously, his face and neck crimson with embarrassment.
“NO! No Mum, I didn’t mean that, I don’t think you’re a cougar, I just meant that you could be a cougar if you wanted, I mean, shit, you know what I mean, what I was trying to say was I’d love to go out somewhere with you, you know I would, and you don’t have to be a cougar, which you’re not, but you be could if you wanted, but not with me, I mean… oh shit, Mum can we please start this conversation again…!”
Carol took pity on him and touched her fingertip to his lips.
“Shush, baby, I get what you mean, so why not take me out somewhere no cougars go, just mothers and their big, sweet sons, how about that?”
Ollie nearly collapsed with relief, and hugged her again.
“How about bowling? There’s a place called ‘Queen’s’ in Bayswater with a nice cocktail lounge as well, or we can scoff burgers, my treat; there, is that ‘Mum and son’ enough for you? No cougars there, I promise!”
Carol gave him her patented ‘blowtorch’ smile, and tugged his hand to the door.
“I’ll leave some money and a note for Izzy, and get my shoes, won’t be a tick!”
When she came back in, Ollie’s eyes widened. In all the toe-curling embarrassment of that conversation, he hadn’t really registered what she was wearing. Now he realised she was wearing a short, a very short, black dress of some stretchy material that clung to her thighs and clearly outlined her shapely buttocks, with a fashionable fringed chequered silk shemagh thrown carelessly around her neck and hanging over her shoulders like a shawl, and a towering pair of Louboutin shoes with the trademark red soles; the black shoes and the short black dress made her legs look long and model-flawless, and with her hair in a casual puff around her shoulders, and her salon-perfect makeup, she looked ready for a night at a swish cocktail bar or a casino on the arm of a playboy millionaire, not bowling on the Bayswater Road. Carol took in his glance and looked at herself.
“What, have I spilled something on myself?” she asked, and Ollie shook his head.
“No, Mum, you look fab; that’s the problem; you do know we’re going bowling, right?”
Carol looked dismayed, turning slowly as she looked herself over.
“What, too much? Not enough? Tell me Ollie. It’s been so long since I’ve been anywhere with you, I don’t want to embarrass you!”
Ollie looked her over critically.
“Lose the shoes, Mum; if you wear a pair of shoes like that to the bowling alley they’ll be off the shelf and on sale down the Portobello Road before you’ve finished lacing up your bowling shoes. Everything else is OK.”
Carol looked affronted.
“‘OK?’ Did you just say ‘OK’? Is that it, just ‘OK’?”
Ollie grinned. “No Mum, you look great; you’ll be the best dressed ‘yummy-Mummy’ at the bowling alley, I promise you, so, if you’re ready…?”
Carol levered off the stylish stiletto pumps, and slipped on a pair of harem slippers.
“OK now? Good, let’s go. Shame really, I haven’t worn those shoes in years, I was looking forward to giving them an outing; your father bought me them for my birthday, you know…”
As they were leaving, Carol stopped as a thought struck her.
“So, is Marla Devlin a ‘cougar’ then? I mean, she seems to fit your definition, apparently, as far as the interest in young men, anyway, so tell me, do you think she’s one of these ‘cougars’, then?”
Ollie grinned.
“No, Mum, she’s a Mountain Lion.”
Carol looked quizzically at him as he grinned broadly.
“A Mountain Lion’s what a cougar is 25 years down the road; still knows how to hunt, but only gets lucky in the dark…”
Carol’s laughter pealed out as they walked out the front door and hailed a cab.
*
When Izzy came bustling in from classes, making the maximum amount of noise and fuss, just to piss her mother off, the first thing she noticed was the quiet stillness of the house; the place fairly throbbed with emptiness, with no sense of either her mother’s or Ollie’s presence. As she dumped her bag by the front door, a note on the hall stand caught her eye. She picked it up and unfolded it, and the twenty-pound note inside.
‘Izzy, Ollie and I are out, we’re having a little Mum/son time, raid the fridge or get yourself some takeaway. I don’t know when we’ll be back, Love, Mum’
Izzy went pale with jealousy. No! That scheming witch, acting all ‘Mumsy-wumsy’ with Ollie, dragging him around town like he was her personal adornment, HER Ollie, how fucking dare she!
Izzy fumed a little while longer, then slowly, her colour returned, and a sly smile spread across her face. So, the Wicked Queen was out on the town pretending to be a loving princess, with Prince Ollie in tow, was he? Time to throw a spanner into her little magic pumpkin! She began texting her brother.
‘Where R U?’
After a few seconds: ‘Bwlng @ Queens, Y you wnt 2 know?’
Izzy texted back: ‘Keep her there, get drnks, she lks Bnana Daiquiris, get a few in hr’
Back came the answer: ‘Y?’
Izzy texted back: ‘2nite, U hve 2 do her 2nite, or I tell hr, U gt me?’
After a long wait, long enough to make her think he’d backed out of their deal, back came the answer:
‘OK, 2nite: Game on’
*
Part 4: Step Into My Parlour…
Carol pushed open the front door and giggled as she nearly went over as the door swung open. Ollie grabbed her arm at the last second and she pulled herself upright again, still giggling.
“Thank you Olleee, my lovely little Ollee-Wollee!” she sang, while Ollie grinned and nudged her forward, nearly overbalancing her again.
“Oops, nearly fell on my bum, help me, Olleee, you naughteee, naughteee boooy, Olleee, letting Mummeee drink all those lovely da’kri’s!” she slurred, falling the other way this time, straight into his arms.
“Ooo, Grandma, what big arms you’ve got!” she cooed, grinning cross-eyed at Ollie as he grinned at her.
Ollie was wondering if it was such a good idea, knocking her over while she was obviously shit-faced; what would be the point? She was already standing-up, falling down drunk. No, the next night would have to do; he needed her to be into it, and right now was wrong; she was too trashed to call a halt if it progressed, and Ollie had no intention of forcing himself on his mother, not while she was completely pie-eyed.
All very commendable, except for one thing: Carol wasn’t drunk. Ollie had been buying her drinks all afternoon and most of the evening, but she’d been busily pouring them away as soon as his attention was distracted; the pot-plants at Queens were going to be feeling very sorry for themselves come morning, because right now, Carol Bartlett was stone-cold sober, and Ollie was in for a wild ride.
Carol grinned, then crossed her eyes and hiccupped.
“Oops, sorry, naughtyyy Carol, one second while I… ulp! Ollieee, sick… sick… ooohh, quiiiccckkk!”
Ollie grabbed her and pushed her into the cloakroom, and as she slammed the door, Ollie heard the sounds of someone being heartily sick many times.