Cougars
Good evening once again, Peter, did you recall the names of your Napier cousins, because I’ve found out …
Don’t tell me! It came to me. After we finished talking, I put my mind onto it. Millie and Ivy. I knew those names were tucked away somewhere. Millie. Ivy.
Well, I came across some information about those girls, and …
Good. Sometimes when I’m going to sleep, when I’m all relaxed in bed, some old thoughts come to mind, and they can be things I’ve not thought about for years. Like these cousins. I remembered some things, but now I’ve remembered much more.
They were good girls, and had good jobs. They worked in Napier, in a jewellery business. There they were, behind the counter, selling things like rings and brooches and ornaments and bangles. Of course, us Leylands didn’t go in for that kind of stuff. They were out of reach. But these girls, when the owner went out, they’d keep the counter going. They were reliable.
Now, I told you about how your Dad and I would visit Aunty Harriet and her daughters — these cousins, and after tea these girls would go for a long walk.
Quite athletic they were. Strong and fit. They’d walk for one or two hours every evening — all over the town — up the hill — along the beach. And us boys went with them. There was never any hurry. We were all young, and fit, and well.
For me, discovering you had a cousin Ivy filled in a gap in my knowledge.
That’s good. Those girls were popular with Aunt Florrie, and sometimes they’d come and stay with us in Palmerston North. We all got along well — always.
Well, I’ll tell you my news. Are you ready for this?
Go for it.
I searched through my old notes. After my father died in 1978 I had a rush of blood to find out about you Leylands, seeing as I was brought up without much contact, and met my father only a few times. After his death I interrogated my mother. ‘What was Dad like?’ ‘What happened between you?’ ‘Why was I brought up by my grandparents?’ So Mum told me — warts and all — and some things I’d rather not have heard. But there was one fact that puzzled me.
What was that? Maybe I can help?
Mum said — and for some reason she called Bill by his ‘proper’ name, ‘On the day after our wedding, Allan told me he’d been ‘unfaithful’ with his cousin Ivy, in the College Street house, when Aunt Florrie was out.’
Peter, I’ve no idea what inspired that outpouring of lurid information between newlyweds. I searched your family trees, and couldn't find a ‘Cousin Ivy’ on either your mother’s or father’s side. I concluded that Mum was mistaken.
Oh dear.
But now you’ve solved my problem. Ivy was a ‘step-cousin’.
So it seems. She was one of Harriet’s girls.
Yes indeed, Uncle Peter. And you and Bill walked out with Ivy and Millie on many occasions. Balmy summer nights. Long leisurely strolls. Athletic young women. Now, I’m a man of discretion, and it’s not polite for me to pose awkward questions — so I won’t.
Well, I can say we all got along very well. And what Bill said may have been true.
I’ve discovered that ‘Cousin Ivy’ was 13 or 14 years older than my father, so when those two had their little ‘interaction’, Ivy was ‘the older woman’. They’re called ‘Cougars’ these days. Mature women who hunt young virile males.
Cougars? I’ve heard about them. Great animals. Big cats.
So, were you guys into — all that stuff?
Us boys? It was all beyond us — we didn’t think about it. That was all part of the adult world.
Peter, I sense that you are smiling — chuckling. I get the feeling that I only get told what you want me to know.
It was so very long ago. Ancient history.
Well, it seems like your ‘Cousin Ivy’ had her eyes on my dad before he was married. Peter, are you laughing?
Can I hear you chuckling?
Peter?
Peter?
Previous story. 26. The Harriet Puzzle. Next story. 28. On The Buses.
Don’t tell me! It came to me. After we finished talking, I put my mind onto it. Millie and Ivy. I knew those names were tucked away somewhere. Millie. Ivy.
Well, I came across some information about those girls, and …
Good. Sometimes when I’m going to sleep, when I’m all relaxed in bed, some old thoughts come to mind, and they can be things I’ve not thought about for years. Like these cousins. I remembered some things, but now I’ve remembered much more.
They were good girls, and had good jobs. They worked in Napier, in a jewellery business. There they were, behind the counter, selling things like rings and brooches and ornaments and bangles. Of course, us Leylands didn’t go in for that kind of stuff. They were out of reach. But these girls, when the owner went out, they’d keep the counter going. They were reliable.
Now, I told you about how your Dad and I would visit Aunty Harriet and her daughters — these cousins, and after tea these girls would go for a long walk.
Quite athletic they were. Strong and fit. They’d walk for one or two hours every evening — all over the town — up the hill — along the beach. And us boys went with them. There was never any hurry. We were all young, and fit, and well.
For me, discovering you had a cousin Ivy filled in a gap in my knowledge.
That’s good. Those girls were popular with Aunt Florrie, and sometimes they’d come and stay with us in Palmerston North. We all got along well — always.
Well, I’ll tell you my news. Are you ready for this?
Go for it.
I searched through my old notes. After my father died in 1978 I had a rush of blood to find out about you Leylands, seeing as I was brought up without much contact, and met my father only a few times. After his death I interrogated my mother. ‘What was Dad like?’ ‘What happened between you?’ ‘Why was I brought up by my grandparents?’ So Mum told me — warts and all — and some things I’d rather not have heard. But there was one fact that puzzled me.
What was that? Maybe I can help?
Mum said — and for some reason she called Bill by his ‘proper’ name, ‘On the day after our wedding, Allan told me he’d been ‘unfaithful’ with his cousin Ivy, in the College Street house, when Aunt Florrie was out.’
Peter, I’ve no idea what inspired that outpouring of lurid information between newlyweds. I searched your family trees, and couldn't find a ‘Cousin Ivy’ on either your mother’s or father’s side. I concluded that Mum was mistaken.
Oh dear.
But now you’ve solved my problem. Ivy was a ‘step-cousin’.
So it seems. She was one of Harriet’s girls.
Yes indeed, Uncle Peter. And you and Bill walked out with Ivy and Millie on many occasions. Balmy summer nights. Long leisurely strolls. Athletic young women. Now, I’m a man of discretion, and it’s not polite for me to pose awkward questions — so I won’t.
Well, I can say we all got along very well. And what Bill said may have been true.
I’ve discovered that ‘Cousin Ivy’ was 13 or 14 years older than my father, so when those two had their little ‘interaction’, Ivy was ‘the older woman’. They’re called ‘Cougars’ these days. Mature women who hunt young virile males.
Cougars? I’ve heard about them. Great animals. Big cats.
So, were you guys into — all that stuff?
Us boys? It was all beyond us — we didn’t think about it. That was all part of the adult world.
Peter, I sense that you are smiling — chuckling. I get the feeling that I only get told what you want me to know.
It was so very long ago. Ancient history.
Well, it seems like your ‘Cousin Ivy’ had her eyes on my dad before he was married. Peter, are you laughing?
Can I hear you chuckling?
Peter?
Peter?
Previous story. 26. The Harriet Puzzle. Next story. 28. On The Buses.