Me: I can’t tell you because I’m too busy slamming my head against a wall. Though, I do feel slightly better than I did yesterday – as evidenced by the fact that I’m vertical – but it’s still, well, how can I put this . . . an absolute fuck-up. Have you both forgiven me for deceiving you?

Emerald: Sure. Just ignore this voodoo effigy of you and vial of ricin I’m carrying in my pocket.

Me: So, it’s a yes to meet up for a drink then?

Emerald: No. I’m either at work inoculating pets for the kind of Christmas holidays in Europe that I can’t afford, or at the gym running on the spot like a hamster on a wheel to keep the weight off. I’m only communicating to send you the Christmas Day job list. Amber, I’ve got you down for your Thai salad, plus your fab pav and meat for the barbecue. I’m doing the ham and turkey. Mum’s making her Christmas pudding, complete with sixpences and cyanide. Ruby, due to your culinary prowess, oysters, prawns, nibbles, etc. Maybe a potato bake if you promise not to burn down your kitchen.

Me: I’ll put that request into the swill I’ve been calling my ‘thought process’. But, be warned, my take-charge-planning gene is horribly frozen.

Emerald: Christmas Day is forecast to be 33 degrees, so I suggest doing everything possible before 10 am. I’ll then just fan myself until late afternoon. Harry and Sandro will barbecue, as usual, and Scott’s in charge of the bar.

Me: I will require a lot of numbing alcohol.

Amber: Heartache is painful. But it’ll pass.

Me: Brody’s not a gallstone, Amber. You’re talking about the potential love of my life.

Emerald: Stop being ridiculous, Ruby. This is the time in life when we should be knitting doilies and eating lamingtons. Yes, I ran around like a teenager on the cruise. But it’s time to get back to real life. Okay?

Amber: Emerald’s right. Try to stay calm and be positive. This time of the year is stressful enough.

Me: The most stressful things in life are death and moving house, apparently. And then there’s divorce, which is death and moving house combined.

But I was typing into a void, as both my sisters had signed off. I sighed sadly. Life really was going to be the death of me.