Returning from her memories at last, Nancy tried to step out of Raymond de Guise’s arms, but Raymond held on to her. ‘Dance on,’ he whispered – so, even though there was no music, they danced.

Dear Frank

Sometimes Rosa and Ruth wonder where I go at night. It’s no crime not to sit in the kitchenette and play backgammon and gossip like they do, but I know their tongues are wagging! I cannot tell them where I go. Once, I was late for breakfast in the housekeeping lounge and, well, it’s fair to say the girls were not happy with me that day! But Raymond is right: everyone has their story. Rosa and Ruth have stories of their own – Rosa comes from sunny Southend, and Ruth? Well, Ruth was orphaned in the Great War and grew up with a grandmother right here in London. I can barely believe it has been two months since I came to the Buckingham Hotel and all of these people, all of these stories, all around me!

In her quarters, Nancy set down her pen. She was, she had to admit, dog tired – and it was getting late. Could it really be the very last day in September? Could it really have been three whole weeks since she first danced with Raymond de Guise?

She picked herself up and, closing her eyes, imagined herself down in the studio behind the ballroom. She could call it to mind in such intimate detail that soon she could hear the music of the gramophone. Though there was nobody to dance with, she lifted her arms until she was in a classical pose. She stepped backwards. She stepped to her left. She came forward and turned, brought her legs together, then parted them again. There was hardly room in this little turret to describe any sort of box step at all, but she went on and on and on . . .

She was so lost in the dance that she did not hear the knocking at her door. Then, suddenly, she heard voices – and opened her eyes to see the bedroom door pushed ajar and, standing in the gap, Rosa and Ruth. The girls were gawping.

‘Nancy, you old romantic!’ Rosa shrieked. ‘What on earth are you doing?’

Ruth was beaming. ‘Come out in the kitchen, Nance, and show us them moves! It’s always the retiring types, isn’t it, Rosa? Lord, we could hardly get her to dance down in the ballroom – and here she is, practising her steps in her bedroom at night!’

Nancy hardly had time to put up a protest, for soon Rosa and Ruth were on either side of her, each taking her by the arm and leading her out into the little kitchenette. A couple of the other girls were playing backgammon with their empty teacups ranged around, while Frances was half asleep in a chair by the door.