Sweet Revenge: 200 Delicious Ways to Get Your Own Back

member of the local church and often read the lesson with the same open candour that she now addressed to her reflection.
    ' "Typical," she sighed in double. "Why can't you men ever realise that women can have wonderful yet platonic relationships? Why is the smallest innocent action blown up into a mountain of sexual activity just to satisfy your fantasies? Simon happens to be a very lovely person who has just arrived in Nairobi as a missionary." Here she paused. In between straightening a stray coil back into her blonde beautifully combed hair she had caught sight of Dick's face with incredulity written all over it. Surely not a missionary! He imagined him in that position calling out to whatever God he stood for, as he and Daisy rejoiced and alleluiaed together. Just as Dick thought he had the advantage, the moral high ground was taken by Daisy as she accused him of Extra Sensory Gutter Perception.
    'Not much was mentioned again. The signs were still there but the cloak of sainthood became like armour around Daisy. Dick was angry and impotent. Daisy went frequently to church and made more trips to Nairobi. Mummy and Papa were selling their house and needed a daughter's helping hand.
    'It was after one of these trips that Dick found a stack of airmail letters, the type that are made of lightweight paper, pre-stamped and folded to post. A round dozen. Dick took care to count them. The next day there were eleven. Dick casually asked Daisy if she had written to anyone. "No," was the reply. "To whom should I be writing?" "I don't know - you have been known to write letters from time to time." "I suppose your extra senses tell you I have been scribbling letters but are not accurate enough to say to whom." The window reflected the pearls round her elegant neck as Daisy twisted them about her slim fingers. She only looked away from her image when she heard Dick explaining that he had counted the letters. Nothing to do with Extra Sensory Perception. "You've taken to spying on me have you? Well it so happens that I wrote to mummy. It slipped my mind." With that she left Dick with his list of chores and drove off to see friends and play tennis at the club.
    'Dick thought a quick visit to the local pub would allow him to find a tinge of self respect in a pint of bitter. As he looked for some loose change, which he knew to be behind their wedding photograph showing Daisy's parents in deep mourning over their daughter's choice of a husband, Dick discovered yet another postcard. It was a picture of the sun setting over Mount Kilimanjaro. Written on the back was the message, ''I pray the snows will melt again.” Surely they hadn't gone to Kilimanjaro and done it in the snow?
    'Another letter had gone from the pile of airmail letters. Evidently Daisy had used the stack as a pad. The impression of the ball-point pen showed on the top letter. Carefully Dick took a soft-lead pencil and rubbed it over the top letter. Quite clearly the writing showed up. It started, "My dearest Darling. Dick still suspects but is so gullible that after he huffed and puffed he has accepted everything I have told him. He really is so stupid." The "so stupid" was underlined. The letter then went on to reminisce in graphic detail what they had done (and the missionary position was not the only one) and how much they were going to accomplish in whatever temple of love they would next meet.
    'In the following hours Dick struggled with his emotions and his desire to strangle her. He came to the conclusion that he didn't hate her. He just didn't like her very much. Should he walk out? Daisy had made a very comfortable home. He'd miss that. Teach her a lesson? Let her car tyres down? Put soap in her toothpaste? No. Revenge must be sweet and a dish to be eaten as hot as curry.
    'Daisy arrived back in a very good mood that lasted as far as the kitchen. Why wasn't the table laid? The salad prepared? What had Dick been doing all afternoon? Dick said nothing for a while and then when Daisy paused for breath, as she caught sight of her glorious self in the oven door, he started. "My dearest Darling," he began.
    She sighed. "Oh, you're not going to start all that again are you?" But her voice trailed away as Dick, unrelentingly, quoted on and on. Line for line the letter she had just posted to her lover thousands of miles away. Written and then posted immediately. Yet here was her husband speaking every word she had written from her passionate heart. Her legs gave way