That Girl and her Fairy Godmother

"Can't make it worse though can it," said Kings College, Cambridge graduate John Dixon.

Clarice rolled her eyes at such obvious nonsense and I could almost see the mischief running through her tiny mind and I quickly flashed my eyes, telegraphing a warning 'here we go' to him. He wrinkled his nose, 'message received'.

Clarice expelled a long breath and stepped closer to him and paused, I guessed to work out the most appropriate tone to adopt, and settled on the closest she could get to an 'oh, by the way...' poisonous innocence;

"Did your wife tell you what a fucking slut she was when she was a kid?" Clearly satisfied, she raised her eyebrows and smiled as sweetly as she could, and folded her arms looking up at her new step-brother-in-law expectantly.

John smiled.

"Oh yeah," said my lovely husband adding some RAF officer poshness to his tone of 'sexy indifference', "reeeeeally turned me on!" he wrinkled his nose to me again, folded HIS arms and looked down at her and smiled just as sweetly, "she told me you used put it about quite a bit as well; but as you can see she's moved on," he nodded to me and I smiled back, raising my left hand and waggling my ring finger and the jewellery it held, "how about you Clarice?"

Clarice spluttered trying to come up with an appropriate response to the unexpected question. Her bottom lip flapped and she looked to her Mum for support.

Step-mum Steph bit her lip then put a hand over her mouth and walked away, saying to her daughter,

"Sorry Clarice, but you were fuckin' asking for that one love!" She laughed; and staring out of the window and biting my lip I silently joined in. Revenge was sweet.