Creative Car Parking, Minus An Eye For Detail.

Maybe I shouldn't have mentioned the German biscuits to Josh. Today I get a call from Ellen. First thing in the bloody morning. She doesn't sound at all happy, but then I'm not impressed at being woken from a rather nice dream about Judge John Deed either, especially not by her. Martin Shaw is very flexible for his age.

"Molly, is Josh there?" she says.

"Um, I don't know," I say. "He's probably still asleep. Why?"

I haven't seen Josh since he left the house to go clubbing with Robbie and the other boys last night. Honestly, these young ones don't even go out until the rest of us are off to bed - not since the Labour government had the bright idea to allow 24-hour drinking.

I used to wait up for Josh to come home, but the sleep deprivation did nothing for the bags under my eyes. Or my patience - though it's Ellen who's sounding impatient this morning.

"Well, have you seen what he's done?"

Does she need to sound quite so snotty? I'm the injured party, after all - or I might be, anyway. It depends on who she was with when she bought those bloody Lebkuchen. I haven't quite worked out how I'm going to find that out yet, without making a complete idiot of myself if I'm wrong.

"Molly, are you listening? Have you seen what Josh has done?"

"No," I say. "At least, I don't think so. What do you mean?"

"The thing with the cars," she says, as if I am a halfwit, rather than someone who is only half-awake.

"No, sorry - I don't know what you're talking about."

"He's turned all the neighbours' cars round ninety degrees, so they're all facing the pavement," she says. "Including mine."

I snort, then pull myself together.

"It isn't funny, Molly. You need to deal with that boy."

"Well, when is this supposed to have happened?" I ask.

"In the early hours, I should think - while we were all asleep."

Honestly, that woman. I sit up in bed, and ready myself for being politely and forensically rude. It's just like being at work, but on a bloody Sunday. With the added bonus of having to deal with the woman my husband might be having an affair with. I just hope she can hear him snoring - that'd put anyone off.

"So, Ellen, let me get this straight. Someone has moved all the cars around, and you blame Josh, even though you didn't see him do it?" I say. "How does that work, exactly? I thought people were innocent until proven guilty in this country. It could have been anyone with a warped sense of humour." Like whoever is running my life at the moment.

"Your car is the only one still facing the right way," says Ellen, as if that proves her point. Which I suppose it probably does. Now I don't know whether to bollock Josh, or hug him.