I did a quick calculation. Henry’s little sister must be around thirteen. A precarious age when it came to friendships.

‘So, what, you’re going to hide in here?’

He shrugged, mournfully. ‘I just needed somewhere quiet to come up with a solution.’

‘Which is?’

‘I haven’t come up with it yet.’

I checked the time on my phone. ‘The show starts in ten minutes. When are you on?’

‘Second.’

‘Ah.’

He tugged on his robe in the ensuing silence, as if a straight hem would make things any better. It was when I spotted his hand trembling that I realised he was on the brink of a panic attack.

‘It’s not too late to duck out. Tell your mum you have a stomach bug, or something.’

‘I can’t lie to her.’

I’d have argued that extreme circumstances justified bending his strict code of honour, but I knew that was a literal statement. Henry couldn’t have produced a convincing lie if his life depended on it.

‘So you’re going to go on, wearing that, do a rubbish trick and embarrass your sister in front of her friends.’

He took a shaky breath. ‘It would seem so.’

I could already imagine how the scene would unfold. I really liked Polly.

‘Then how about I join you?’

‘What?’

‘I’ll come with you on stage, deflect some of the attention and make it look like it’s me who messes up. Our parents will be so excited to see us paired up together, they’ll gloss over the disastrous performance.’

‘I can’t let you do that.’

‘What, humiliate myself on stage? I’ve done it every other year. It’s something of a tradition. It wouldn’t feel like Christmas unless I’ve disgraced myself in public.’

‘Who are you hiding from?’ he asked after a few seconds of silence.

I ducked my head. ‘No one.’

‘Your boyfriend?’

‘He’s not my boyfriend. Stop changing the subject. You’ve only got a few minutes to fill me in on what I’m supposed to be doing.’

Henry stared at me for a long moment. I suspected various options were being rapidly processed behind the blank expression.

‘I’ll only let you do it if I can buy you a pizza afterwards.’

‘Perfect. Come on, then, Great Henrico, our audience are waiting.’ I snatched his hat and stuck it on my head as we walked out.

He was right, the trick was terrible. Fortunately, I was even worse, so most of the attention was focused on me, as planned. I pretended to fluff my lines, tripped over the robe that I’d donned, leaving Henry in plain black trousers and a white shirt, and blew the big reveal. From our point of view, it was a complete success.