olly, Frank Gritter and I were in the park with our pooches, which is quite possibly one of the best ways of spending an Easter holiday day, in my opinion. This is mainly because being in the park with pooches is a pretty cool thing in itself, but also because all our three dogs are related! Frank’s dog Meatball (I know, don’t ask) is Honey’s mum and Honey is Titch’s mum!

Molly loved it when all three dogs got together too, although if she had had her way, she would not have had Frank there as well, as they were not what you would call On Good Terms most of the time. But she was just about willing to put up with him for the sake of our three dogs.

Molly was doing her best to ignore Frank by sitting on a park bench with her Notebook of Outstanding Beauty on her lap, scribbling furiously. Frank was completely to the fact that he was being ignored and was throwing sticks for the dogs. He was also telling me an extremely stupid but actually very funny joke about a fruit sweet saying it did not want to be friends with a mint sweet because it was ‘really menthol’.

I knew I should not encourage Frank when he was in such a daft mood, as he was quite likely to become Too Big for His Boots, in other words, start showing off in an impossible and irritating manner, but I could not help thinking it was funny as it was truly a very good joke. So I was laughing uproariously and finding it vastly hard to breathe like a normal person.

Molly was , as Queen Victoria used to say.

‘Will you two shut up?’ she said, snappishly. ‘I am trying to brainstorm some ideas for the party, and you are not being any help whatsoever. Honestly, I think if I did not put in all this effort, there would not BE a party. Do you realize, Summer—?’

‘OK!’ I said, stifling another giggle. Then something occurred to me. ‘What exactly are you planning at the moment? I thought we had finished brainstorming on the food and decorations front? And Nick is doing invitations . . .’

‘Ahem,’ Molly coughed in a way that said I-have-thought-of-something-you-have-not.

‘Here it comes – another marvellous masterly Molly-style plan,’ Frank whispered, threatening to make me giggle all over again.

‘Mmffgh!’ I squeaked, biting my cheeks in.

‘AHEM!’ Molly coughed a bit more loudly. ‘I believe you have Overlooked the Obvious.’

‘Eh?’ I said.

‘There is the small problem of the puppy part of this whole party,’ she said, making herself sound very important indeed.

‘Why is it a problem?’ I asked. ‘We have made a list of the food. What else do we need to do?’

‘Yeah,’ said Frank. ‘It’s not like you need a plan for having a few dogs round. It’s no big deal. People come, they bring their dogs, the dogs play – probably outside otherwise it’ll be Havoc with a capital H—’

‘Which is exactly what we want to avoid, Mr Oh-So-Clever-And-Pleased-With-Yourself!’ Molly butted in. ‘We do not want Summer’s mum – or even worse, April – freaking out about the dogs running around all over the place and then telling us we have done a rubbish job of this party and that all the dogs must go home at once.’

‘So what is your solution then?’ I asked.

Frank and I exchanged puzzled and unimpressed glances, which involved us making our mouths go sneery and raising our eyebrows at each other. Except that Frank only ever raises one eyebrow, as he thinks it makes him look more sophisticateder and James Bond-ish.

Molly’s eyes popped out of her head and she said, ‘Well if you can be bothered to listen to me for one second instead of giggling in a rather immature manner at all HIS pathetic jokes . . .’ She paused and stared at us like teachers do when they are waiting for the class to calm down.

Frank and I managed to avoid catching each other’s eye again.

Molly took a big dramatical breath and said, ‘Right. So, what I was thinking was: if we make sure we buy the most delicious dog treats on the planet, we can use them to control the pooches. You know, Summer, it’s like when you are training your dog to be a highly obedient and well-behaved hound. You give them food when they are good, don’t you?’

I nodded a bit uncertainly. I did not want the party to turn into a huge dog-training session. I had done enough of those in my lifetime to last me, well, a lifetime.

Molly rolled her eyes impatiently and said, ‘So, it’s simple! We can play games with the dogs which involve them getting a yummy treat when they do as they are told. Like we could play “musical pups” and get them to sit when the music stops. They will do anything we ask to get their paws on the treats, especially if we come up with an amazing menu of food which is specifically to suit doggy appetites.’

‘What does that mean?’ Frank chortled. ‘Are you going to sew all the snacks out of fabric and stuff?’

‘That is not what I mean, no,’ said Molly, her face going a bit purply red. ‘But if you are too busy with your girlfriend here to want to know what I am planning, then that is fine.’

‘ No need to get your knickers in a tangle!’ Frank said, which was probably not the most helpful thing he might have said.

‘We might have to think carefully about games for the dogs,’ I said quickly, changing the subject to stop Molly from going into Full-On Strop Mode (and also because I privately thought the game ‘musical pups’ sounded nonsensical and rubbish). ‘I mean, we can’t just make them up on the spot – we should plan them in advance. What do you think, Frank? Have you got any ideas for this party?’

Molly gave me yet another scary glare, then she flicked her eyes quickly at Frank and then back at me. I read the Coded Signal at once, which was ‘Don’t get HIM involved’.

‘What’s your budget?’ Frank asked casually. I smiled gratefully at him. Molly likes talking about all things maths-related.

‘Fifty pounds,’ said Molly proudly.

‘Fifty pounds!’ Frank hooted. ‘Fifty quid’s not going to get you far! How many guests are you buying for?’

I changed my grateful smile to a distinctively ungrateful .

‘We’re not sure yet,’ I muttered. ‘But probably about thirty human guests and then possibly four or five dogs.’

Frank spluttered with snorty laughter. ‘Get real!’ he said. ‘How are you going to afford dog food and treats as well as the stuff for the humans?’

‘The thing is, FRANK,’ Molly said sourly. ‘I don’t recall asking you for YOUR opinion on how to work to a budget.’

I felt a churning panicky sensation start up in my tummy. Molly was right: we had not asked Frank about that. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized that he was probably right. We did not have enough money for everything we had planned! But how was I going to get Molly to see this now that she was On A Roll with her organizational skills? She was not likely to want to discuss CUTBACKS at this stage, in other words, she was not going to take anything off that list, and especially not in front of Frank.

So I suggested that we call the dogs and go home.

‘Yeah, I’ve got to go anyway,’ Frank said. ‘I’ve got footy practice.’

‘Thank the highest heavens for that,’ said Molly under her breath, but not so far under it that we couldn’t hear her.

‘Don’t miss me too much!’ he called over his shoulder, as he grabbed hold of Meatball’s collar and put her lead on.

Molly narrowed her eyes at him and stuck her tongue out.

On the way back from the park Molly rattled on and on and did not let me get a word in edgeways, frontways or any which way about my money worries.

‘We could do the games for the dogs in the garden to make sure they run off all their energy and, as well as the treats, we could give them prizes, like a new collar or a cuddly toy or something!’ she was saying. ‘That will stop the dogs causing havoc and it will keep them out of the way of the boring grown-ups.’

But I wasn’t really listening to all the Finer Points, in other words the details of her ideas, because, to be honest, the panicky feeling was now growing so strongly in my stomach that I was listening instead to the worrying thoughts going round and round inside my brain.

Molly didn’t seem to notice how PREOCCUPIED and anxious I was. When I left her and Titch at their front door, she said cheerily: ‘Oh wow, I’m soooo excited about this pooch party! I’m going to go and do some more research right now. See you later!’

‘Hmm,’ I said, and waved distractivatedly as I walked away from her place.

Once I was back home, I started deeply trying to think of a way to get Mum to give me some more money. I decided to do what I usually do in such a situation which is to think out a Very Carefully Planned Conversation in my head before I actually speak a word aloud. And this was what I planned:

‘Dearest Mum, you have been soooo amazingly generous to give me fifty whole pounds to spend on April’s birthday party and it really is a lot of money, but did you know that I have been doing a lot of Research about how much parties cost, and there is a bit of a problem with Inflation, in other words, things for parties cost more than they did when you were young! I know that this is very unfair and stupid of the government, but as an Individual on my own I cannot do anything about Inflation, and I am starting to get worried that April is not going to have much of a party. So I was wondering if you could help out by perhaps maybe the amount of money I am allowed to spend. Thank you so much and very sincerely.’

I was quite pleased with this speech, and I thought it would be even better if I produced some figures and things on a piece of paper to show that I had done my maths. I grabbed a pad of paper and began to scribble away.

‘Hello, Summer!’ Mum called, coming into the kitchen and finding me with a pile of screwed-up paper and what I expect was a very worried look on my face. ‘What’s up? You haven’t got homework to do, have you? It’s the holidays!’

‘No, no I am just a bit concerned about Inflation,’ I said. Oh dearie goodness, that was not exactly how I had planned to start the conversation.

‘Tell me about it,’ said Mum, kicking off her shoes and sitting down with a heavy sigh. ‘I popped to the shops to get a few bits for tea tonight, and it came to twice what I thought it would! I honestly feel as though I might just as well stand from the upstairs window and throw ten-pound notes out into the street some days.’

I frowned in puzzlement. Surely that would not be a good way to save money?

Mum sighed again and rubbed her forehead in a tired and exhaustified fashion. ‘So what’s a young girl like you doing worrying about inflation?’ she asked, smiling weakly.

‘Well, it’s because of April’s party,’ I began, looking as innocently sweet and lovely as I could by making my eyes wide and putting my head on one side.

‘Yes?’ said Mum, in a suspicious-sounding tone.

‘Erm, can I have some more money as the budget is not working?’ I said in a rush.

And Mum looked me squarely in the eyes, her mouth set in a grimly serious manner and asked, ‘Why?’

Oh blow, I could not tell her about needing extra food and possibly now prizes just for the dogs, could I? ‘Erm, well, food, as you have just said, is sooooo over-the-top EXTORTIONATE in its pricing these days, and then there’s the decorations, and we have not even thought about drinks and—’

‘Oh, don’t worry about the drinks!’ Mum said cheerily. ‘I was going to get them. The adults might want wine, and you can hardly buy that. You’re only buying crisps and things, aren’t you?’

I nodded weakly.

‘Exactly! I hardly think a few packets of crisps and some balloons and streamers are going to cost you more than fifty pounds. I don’t suppose we’ll have more than thirty people anyway.’

Well, that’s that then, I thought grimly. But I smiled and said, ‘OK!’ in as - a voice as I could manage.

Now I would have to have a very well-planned conversation in my head about how I was going to break the news to Molly that we did not have enough money for the pooches.