Funny how Martha never felt the need to justify herself, whereas Willow frequently did. But then Dad had never approved of what he called QLC, Questionable Life Choices – he would view this latest job of Willow’s as decidedly questionable. ‘The future,’ he would say, ‘you must always look to the future and ask yourself what you want yours to be.’

That was another difference between Willow and Martha. Martha had always known what she wanted – an amazing career and an amazing husband, and when the time was right, a couple of amazing children. In contrast Willow had never really known what she wanted. She still didn’t.

‘Daydreaming again, Willow?’

‘Just waiting for the donor to pick up the phone,’ she lied to Kyle who had magically appeared by her side.

When he’d moved on to check on somebody else, she dialled the next number and waited for Miss Evans of Penarth to answer. When she did, Willow threw herself into her opening lines from the script.

‘Good evening, Miss Evans, I hope you’re having a pleasant evening and that I’m not interrupting anything important, but I wonder if I could ask you to consider—’

The line went resoundingly dead in Willow’s ear.

Okay, she told herself, the next call would go better. Thankfully it did, as did the following call, which resulted in a continuous giver saying he wanted to make a sizeable donation to the charity to which he’d been donating for several years.

At eight-thirty, she finished work on a high and was surprised to find Rick waiting for her outside the building. As always when she saw him, and took in his handsome face, neatly cut hair, and smart suit, she had to pinch herself that he was her boyfriend. She was sure she wasn’t Rick Falconer’s usual type, any more than he was her usual type. Her last boyfriend had been a motorbike courier who’d spent his days whizzing around London delivering packages and his evenings playing bass guitar in a band. His hair had been nearly as long as Willow’s. The boyfriend before that had been a chef with his own vegan burger van which he took to music festivals. Which was where she’d met him. Rick, at thirty-eight, was a very different kettle of fish and looked much more the type who would have a clever, well-dressed girlfriend who was as ambitious as he was. The polar opposite to Willow.

‘What are you doing here, Rick?’ she said.

‘Taking you for dinner, that’s what.’

‘But you never said anything when we spoke last night.’

He smiled. ‘That’s what you do when you want to surprise your girlfriend and celebrate a milestone date. You don’t let on.’

‘Milestone date?’ she repeated. Oh Lord, what had she forgotten?

‘It’s four months today since we met and I’m taking you somewhere special to eat.’

‘Oh, how lovely,’ she said, touched by how he sweetly romantic he was. ‘But I’m not dressed for anywhere special,’ she added, tugging at her baggy dungarees and denim jacket.