‘All right,’ I said, taking a deep breath. ‘You know how I said a few days ago that I was thinking about getting in touch with Mum and Dad.’

‘And we decided that you shouldn’t.’

‘Yes,’ I whimpered. ‘Well, the thing is. I wrote them a Christmas card. And I had no intention of sending it. Absolutely no intention at all, but . . .’

‘But?’

‘But,’ I said, forcing the words out and cursing over why I had ever thought telling him was so important, ‘but it got muddled up with Dolly’s pile of cards and was sent in error.’

The other end of the line was suddenly deathly quiet.

‘I’m so sorry, Jonathan. It was an accident . . .’

‘And have your parents been in touch?’

‘No,’ I said quickly. ‘No. I haven’t heard a thing.’

I didn’t remind him that the postal service in the UK was stretched to the limit at Christmas and it might not have even arrived until today.

‘You’re angry, aren’t you?’ I carried on, filling the gaps where he should have been talking. ‘And you’ve every right to be, especially after we’d discussed it and decided it was a bad idea.’

‘I have no idea why you’d even think to write the card in the first place,’ he said finally.

It would have been so easy to tell him that it had been Dolly’s idea, but I didn’t think it would go any way to improving their relationship. It was all very well chatting on the phone and Jonathan sending lavish gifts, but I needed the pair to get along in real life too and if he knew of the part my friend had played in the disaster then that was never going to happen.

‘Me neither,’ I whispered.

‘But that’s neither here nor there now, is it?’ he carried on. ‘And if it’s gone, it’s gone.’

‘But aren’t you angry?’

‘Well I’m not best pleased,’ he said, the disappointment in his voice making me feel even worse, ‘but there’s no point blowing up about it, is there?’

I felt another rush of guilt as I realised that was exactly what I had been expecting him to do.

‘I really am so sorry,’ I said, apologising for more than an errant card, even though he didn’t realise it.

‘I know,’ he said, ‘you sound utterly miserable and I daresay you’re feeling even worse because your parents haven’t bothered to respond.’

I hadn’t really thought about that, assuming delivery was most likely delayed, but I was relieved that he had taken the news so well.

‘Let’s just forget about it,’ he said. ‘You’ve got more to be thinking about than that.’