Nancy had begun wrestling with her suitcase. Along with the clutch bag at her side, it contained everything she owned in the world. ‘I’m quite all right,’ she replied primly, and the train guard was still staring as, three attempts later, she forced it through the doors. He was still staring when, at the end of the concourse, Nancy looked over her shoulder. Her leg was aching, as it had done ever since she was small, but suddenly the awkward way that she limped – so imperceptible, really, such a tiny thing – seemed the most obvious thing in the world. But Nancy Nettleton held her head high and heaved her case after her all the same.

She had a Chinese Red lipstick just like Claudette Colbert was said to have worn in It Happened One Night, and she’d been saving it for an occasion just like this. First impressions, she had been told, counted for everything. She’d put it on, and then she’d be ready.

*

London. She had been preparing herself for seven months, and now the city – noisy and smoky, full of more movement and life than she had ever known – seemed to dwarf her as she fought her way to the Underground station. If only her father could see her now! Of course, he had had little love for people from the big city. People didn’t, when they had lived their entire lives in the same Lancashire town where she was born, surrounded by the same hills and forests and mountain tarns. But London was another world. Nancy had spent her life imagining its palaces, wondering what it might be like to catch a glimpse of King Edward riding in procession along the Mall, or to witness the excited crowds pouring out of a royal wedding at Westminster Abbey. Yet her first impressions of the city were noise and the fug of sweat and coal dust.

She held the letter carefully. Nancy Nettleton, it began. We are pleased to confirm your appointment to the role of chambermaid at the Buckingham Hotel, Berkeley Square, London, to commence on the first day of August. Immediately upon your arrival . . .