| The
First Spark
by Margaret Mounsdon
Viv would have recognised her anywhere. There were a few more lines
round the eyes and the hair had been touched up, but Babs was still beautiful.
Viv paused as Babs’ red Italian car drew up by the traffic lights,
and wasn’t the only one looking at the blonde woman of indeterminate
age tapping an elegant fingernail on the steering wheel. Male heads turned
at the sound of the throbbing exhausts, then their eyes moved from the
rev counter to the driver.
Nothing new there. With her particular brand of earthy sexiness Babs had
been turning men’s heads for more years than Viv could remember.
What, thought Viv, was she doing back in town? But the traffic lights
turned to green and Babs roared away.
‘You’ll never guess who I saw today,’ Viv began over
supper.
‘No, I probably won’t,’ Jack looked up from pouring
the wine. ‘So why don’t you tell me?’
‘Babs Barton, Babs Pascal that was. Careful,’ Viv chided her
husband as he spilt wine on the tablecloth.
‘Sorry,’ he dabbed at the stain with a tea towel.
‘Remember her?’
‘Of course I rmember her,’ Jack snapped. ‘I was engaged
to her.’
‘And she dumped you.’
Jack sat down and drank half his glass of wine in one go. ‘Yes,’
he said eventually, ‘she did.’
The rumour going the rounds when the break-up happened was that Babs was
two-timing Jack, and that he had been gutted when she ditched him. Of
course Viv had heard all the stories but when, six months later, Jack
had started going out with her and had proposed six months after that,
she had accepted him without a second thought. She had always loved the
charming and charismatic Jack Lantern. Even his swashbuckling name suggested
excitement and a dashing lifestyle. It was only later Viv discovered that
Jack had proposed to her the day after Babs had announced her engagement
to Michael Barton.
Over the years Viv had wondered what had gone wrong between Jack and Babs.
Both were attractive, both had magnetic personalities. Where Babs and
Jack had lead, the rest of their gang followed. She had tried asking Jack
about it, but he always clammed up.
‘Babs is my past,’ he insisted. ‘You are my future.’
Flattering though these sentiments were, Viv couldn’t help feeling
frustrated. There was something Jack wasn’t telling her.
‘I’m – er – working late tonight,’ Jack
called her from the golf club where he worked the next day. ‘Don’t
wake up for me.’
The line had gone dead before Viv could ask any questions. She had sat
at the kitchen table and eaten her solitary lasagne and finished off the
previous evening’s bottle of wine.
‘Now you can’t get the car out and drive to the golf club
to check on him!’ she said out loud.
Not that she needed to, she tried convincing herself. After thirty years
of marriage, she was certain that Jack had never been unfaithful to her.
Despite her mother’s warnings and her father’s reluctance
to welcome Jack Lantern as a son-in-law, he had proved a model husband.
Even when they had discovered that Viv could not have any more children
after an ectopic pregnancy, he had been a tower of strength in her misery.
‘We have each other,’ he had said as he held her hand in the
horrible hospital ward where, all around them, happy mothers were being
feted by their husbands who were now doting fathers.
So why was she thinking infidelity now? Viv rinsed her plate and wine
glass under the hot water tap, and tried to ignore the voice in her head
which said: Babs Barton.
‘She’s a widow now,’ Viv’s best friend Sandy imparted
the news over their weekly coffee and chat in the local café. ‘And
a wealthy one at that,’ Sandy added. ‘Bet she’ll be
making her mark on the scene.’
‘Sorry,’ Jack was all apologies again over the telephone that
night.
Viv turned off. It didn’t matter what the excuse was, it all boiled
down to the fact that Jack would be late home again. She wondered what
excuse he would come up with when the Pro-Am Tournament was over. And
she didn’t doubt it was an excuse.
There had been the credit card bill she had found stuffed in the pocket
of the jacket she had taken to the cleaners. Jack had no head or finance
and she always settled their bills. So why had this one been hidden?
One look at the items on it was enough to tell her why. The amount had
been eye watering. There had been dinner at Mason’s, a bill for
some flowers, and Jack had been shopping at Silvers the jewellers.
Viv did her best to convince herself that there was an innocent explanation,
and she had given him every chance to come clean.
‘Mason’s?’ His smile hadn’t slipped, even though
it hadn’t reached his eyes. ‘What made you ask me about Mason’s?
Don’t tell me I’ve forgotten our anniversary.’
With a neat twist, Jack had avoided answering her question.
And now sitting on the bed with his crumpled shirt in her hands, she knew
that she could not ignore the signs any longer. Corny as any cliché
in fiction, there it was – the lipstick on his collar, and it wasn’t
her shade of Platinum Pink. This was Rebel Red, an expensive shade of
French make-up, the sort of lipstick Babs Barton would wear.
‘Not working late tonight?’ Viv greeted Jack as he arrived
home slightly earlier than normal.
‘No. Thought it was time I had an early night in.’
‘Good.’ Viv took a deep breath. ‘Because there are things
we need to discuss.’
‘Discuss?’ Jack eyed her warily as he took off his coat.
‘You haven’t been working late have you?’
He sank into an armchair. His reply was a long time coming. Viv didn’t
know it was possible for her heart to hurt so much. In the early days
of their marriage she had almost expected him to run off with another
woman. Even before Babs he had always been a bit of a lady’s man,
and women still buzzed round him like bees round a honey pot. But Jack
had eyes only for her – until now it seemed.
‘I have something to tell you, Viv,’ he began in a voice that
didn’t sound like his.
‘There’s no need.’ Viv’s own voice was tight in
her throat.
Jack raised his eyes to hers.
‘I know,’ she said simply.
‘How? We were so careful. I mean, I didn’t want you to get
hurt. Viv, I’m sorry I …’
‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’ Viv didn’t want
to hear any more excuses or lies.
‘I didn’t know how to. When she contacted me after her mother
died and suggested we meet up, I agreed. We needed to get to know each
other again.’
‘And how do you think that makes me feel? Seeing another woman behind
my back?’
Jack’s face was a deathly mask. ‘Viv, there’s only ever
been you in my life.’
‘And Babs?’
Jack frowned. ‘Yes, of course. Babs too.’
‘Is that why you married me? Because of Michael Barton?’
‘Michael Barton?’
‘Babs’ husband. Now she’s a widow…’
‘No. This is nothing to do with Michael. I…’ Jack hesitated.
‘I wanted to make sure that Babs was settled before I moved forward
with my life. I should have told you…’
‘No. I don’t want to know.’
Viv turned away in pain. They were acting like characters in an old black-and-white
movie, both being very civilised, when all Viv wanted to do was claw out
Jack’s eyes before she started on Babs. But loss of dignity would
get her nowhere, and neither would acting like an alley cat to save her
marriage.
‘Perhaps if we all met up? We could talk things through?’
Jack suggested.
‘There is nothing to talk through.’
‘Please,’ Jack pleaded.
The expression on his face tore at Viv’s heart. He looked as though
he still loved her. Surely her marriage was worth fighting for?
‘Very well,’ Viv said quietly.
‘You don’t know what this means to me,’ Jack leapt up,
relief in his eyes.
‘You’ve never looked more lovely,’ Jack watched Viv
get ready for their night out. Her dress was oyster silk; it had cost
an arm and a leg, but Viv saw no reason to skimp on her outfit. What Babs
Barton could do, Viv Lantern could do better.
‘The Golf Club?’ Viv raised her eyebrows as they parked in
Jack’s reserved space.
‘Why not?’ he looked surprised. ‘Come on.’
At that moment, if Viv could have turned back she would have done so.
But Jack was bounding up the steps and she was forced to clamber out of
the car and almost run after him.
‘Sorry darling. Just checking they’ve got everything right,’
Jack came rushing back towards her. ‘I’ve pulled rank and
got the best table, by the window.’ He pointed to where a table
was laid out for three and a bottle of champagne was cooling in an ice
bucket.
Viv swayed.
‘Jack, I don’t feel very…’
He wasn’t listening. He was looking over her shoulder. His face
lit up. ‘Darling.’
Viv spun round. Walking towards her was a woman in her early thirties.
‘Moira, this is Viv, my wife.’
‘I’m so pleased to meet you at last,’ she said as she
held out her hand. ‘I hope we can be friends.’
Viv blinked. Moira was wearing Rebel Red lipstick and she was smiling
at him with Jack’s eyes.
‘Viv,’ Jack placed an arm around the girl’s shoulders.
‘This is my daughter, Moira.’
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