Well, Willow couldn’t disagree with any of that. She was hopelessly careless and never knew from one moment to the next where her life would lead.

Seeing that Kyle was on the warpath and doing his hourly check on their progress, Willow readjusted her headset and dialled the next number on her list. She never liked it when Kyle stood over her, or worse, listened in; it made her self-conscious and more liable to mess up. For now, he seemed more intent on observing Stefan, the newest member of the team.

When Mrs Tate answered the telephone in Matlock, Derbyshire, Willow set to with the script. But five minutes into it, she didn’t know which upset her more, explaining how badly the poor donkeys in India were treated, how they were beaten and starved and left to die on the roadside, or hearing the apologetic sadness in the trembly voice of the donor, an old lady who couldn’t afford to increase her standing order.

‘Just another pound a week would do so much good for those horribly abused donkeys,’ Willow wheedled. She couldn’t have felt worse if she were actually mugging the woman in the street and stealing her handbag.

‘I wish I could,’ Mrs Tate said, ‘I really do, but I only have my state pension and there are always so many bills to pay and I don’t even have the money to have the washing machine repaired.’ She sounded like she was on the verge of tears and Willow couldn’t bear to upset her any more. If it were in her power, she’d send the old lady the money to buy a new washing machine, maybe even offer to do her ironing for her.

‘I’m terribly sorry to have bothered you, Mrs Tate,’ she said, almost in tears herself. ‘Please don’t worry about the donkeys; you’re already doing a wonderful job for them and I’m sure they appreciate your help. Goodbye.’

‘Goodbye, dear. And thank you for being so understanding.’

A lump in her throat, Willow ended the call. She had to steel herself before dialling the next number on her list. Why was it she now always seemed to be landed with the donors who didn’t have any money? Just once it would be nice to speak to somebody who was rolling in cash and happy to share it with the less fortunate and abused.

Maybe that was what was wrong with the world, the haves kept it to themselves and the have-nots knew what it was to go without and wanted to help, even if they couldn’t.

Willow didn’t mind people being successful and rich, she wasn’t one of those green-eyed misery-guts; far from it, good luck to them, she thought. After all, her own family had always been comfortably off and she had enjoyed what many would call a privileged upbringing.

She didn’t like to think what Dad would make of her doing this job. ‘Hardly a career, is it, sweetheart?’ she could hear him say, giving her one of his tolerant smiles. ‘What better purpose in life than to help make the world a better place?’ she imagined herself saying back to him.