Another way of looking at it, as a disgruntled ex-employee posted online, was that working for AoK was nothing more than working in a telemarketing call centre that didn’t care how it extracted money from the public in the name of charitable giving, just so long as it did. Kyle’s answer to this was: ‘You have to believe in the cause and that the end justifies the means.’

Working in the charity sector, so Willow was finding, was more ruthless than she had imagined it to be. You had to focus on the reasons why you were making the call. There were sick children dying of cancer who needed treatment and the only way they would have that treatment was if more money was raised to fund research. There were millions around the world dying from hunger. There were all the homeless people. And then there were the animals that needed help, the abandoned dogs and kittens and the brutally abused donkeys who were worked until they dropped. Okay, for some, caring for animals didn’t seem such a priority, but at AoK, raising money for the varied list of charities they represented, there was no distinction. Suffering was suffering. A need was a need. And their job at AoK was to be a part of the solution.

Working the same shift that evening with Willow were quite a few she knew, predominantly edgy urban creatives who saw themselves as modern-day Robin Hoods, taking from the rich to give to the poor. There were also a couple of aspiring actresses. The job was perfect for these girls. With hours to suit, they could work around auditions and earn more money here than if they waitressed. They could act their socks off when making the calls and regularly hit their targets.

Willow had to get her own act together and improve her success rate, or she’d be looking for another job. Turnaround of staff was fast. If you didn’t make the grade, you were out so that somebody better could take your place. After all, as Kyle often liked to joke, they weren’t running a charity here!

Kyle had warned her the other day that she wasn’t sticking to the script when on the telephone, that she was pausing too much. ‘The slightest hesitation from you,’ Kyle said, ‘and you give the donor the chance to take control of the conversation and turn you down. You need to be more assertive.’

Her sister would have no trouble with being more assertive. If Martha worked here, she would regularly smash her targets and put Kyle in his place while she was about it. But wishing she could be more like her sister was a waste of time. They were chalk and cheese, always had been.

Auntie Geraldine, Mum’s oldest friend, and Willow and Martha’s godmother, had once summed up the difference between the two sisters as Martha, who craved order and perfection, being the type who wouldn’t lend anyone a book for fear of it being spoilt, or not returned. In contrast, so Auntie Geraldine said, Willow was the type who borrowed a book and would absently turn back the page corners, accidentally spill drinks on it, or drop it in the bath, or simply lose the book. All through accident, never by design.