When the parents go away for the wekend, their teenage daughter has a smashing party.

When I was fourteen and a half, my parents went away for the entire weekend, leaving me in charge of the house. Little did they suspect that I was an irresponsible teenager.

As soon as I saw Mum and Dad drive down the road, I called up Ricki, my new best friend to tell her the good news. She lived round the corner from me, with her father and step-mother (whom she hated) in a basement flat. She had waist length, white blonde hair and wore mini-skirts up to her chin. All the boys thought she was beautiful, but she didn’t notice, as she was too busy worrying about her weight. She used to go on big eating jags, and then would starve for a week, existing on a brutal regime of coffee and cigarettes.

'You've got to have a party, especially as I want to try out some of that apple pie your Mum left for you in the fridge,' Ricky said.

'I thought you weren't eating for a week?'

'I'm not,' Ricki insisted.

As it so happened, I had arranged to meet a gang of boys at the local café – all of whom were Ricki's rejects. When I blurted out that I had the house for the weekend, my friends all said it was too good an opportunity to miss.

'Come over for apple pie, but don't tell anyone else,' I said.

That evening, which was a Saturday night, Ricki arrived at my house, reeking of nicotine. She hadn’t eaten anything for two days and was starving. I was really excited, because I had a crush on one of the boys who was coming, and tried to get rid of my spots by rubbing Ajax on my face - one of Ricki's stupid beauty tips, which made my spots look redder than ever. I smeared a thick crust of Clearasil all over them and dimmed the lights.

In no time at all, the house filled up with loads of people, because the boys whom I had invited, had told all their friends I was having a party. To be on the safe side, I took down Mum and Dad’s precious Chinese plates off the shelves in the living room and carefully laid them down on their big double bed, then locked their bedroom door. I didn’t want any accidents, I thought. I couldn’t tell if the party was any good or not, although for years afterwards, strangers would come up to me in the street, and enthuse it had been the best party they’d ever been to. Ricki also thought the party was a huge success because she discovered her favourite packet of Muesli in the kitchen cupboard and gorged herself, devouring the lot in a few minutes only.

Ricki had agreed to stay the night, but even she was shocked the following morning. When I unlocked my parents’ bedroom, I saw with horror that some of the Chinese plates were missing, and the ones which remained on the bed were broken.

'But, I locked the door,' I screamed, terrified at what my parents would say.

‘One of the guests must have got drunk, climbed up the drainpipe, and jumped up and down on the plates,' Ricki reasoned.

We spent the whole day trying to glue the priceless plates back together, before putting them back on the shelves in the exact place where they had been originally. We also spent hours cleaning the house, which looked like a bomb had hit it, and spent hours wiping all the muck off the walls. I was dreading Mum and Dad’s return and prayed they wouldn’t notice anything was wrong. Unfortunately, they did the moment they walked in through the front door.

They went ballistic when they discovered the house was not how they left it, and when they discovered the glued broken China plates, they called the police who arrived immediately. I don't know why, but the police went through the trash outside and discovered remains of marijuana joints.

‘Arrest her,’ Dad screamed.

I had no idea that people were smoking drugs in the house, although I had noticed a peculiar smell in the kitchen. The police drove Ricki and myself to the police station, and although we both stuck to the same story, the police told my parents afterwards that I was the culprit, who had smashed the plates. They also suspected I had stolen the missing plates, which was the most ridiculous thing I'd ever heard.

Although I furiously denied the police’s allegations, Mum and Dad didn’t believe me and said they would never trust me ever again, which was a crashing bore, as they never once left me alone in the house for the rest of my teens, even, when I had friends over for tea.

Frances Lynn: copyright 2006