‘Go on then, Nance!’ Rosa called as Ruth busied herself, clearing away a table to make space. ‘Show us your stuff. Girls, Nancy’s been teaching herself to dance. That’s where she’s been sneaking off to.’

‘Here, she’s embarrassed,’ said Ruth. ‘Let’s all give her a hand. Look, I’ll be Marchmont – and, Nance, that makes you the dashing Raymond de Guise.’ With a shriek, Ruth inveigled her way into Nancy’s arms. ‘Go on then, show me how it goes. A foxtrot. A Viennese waltz. Nothing too salacious – this is the Buckingham Hotel, after all! Mr Maynard Charles –’ and here Ruth adopted an exaggerated aristocratic air ‘– would not tolerate anything as uncouth in this fine establishment. What would King Edward think if he was to fly through and see a rhumba or a polka –’ Ruth let go of Nancy and lifted her skirts and swept them about, while the other girls guffawed ‘– in this ballroom of ours?’

‘Might happen soon,’ said Frances as she picked herself out of her chair and headed for bed.

‘What’s that?’ asked Ruth. ‘Polkas and rhumbas, in the Buckingham Hotel? Management wouldn’t allow it!’

‘All I’m saying,’ said Frances, ‘is it might happen. I happen to know, for a fact, that Miss Marchmont herself is mounting an expedition tonight.’

All of the other girls revolved to face her.

‘An expedition?’ one of them asked.

At least they’ve stopped wanting me to perform for them, Nancy thought.

‘She’s roped in Louis Kildare from the orchestra. And of course Raymond de Guise. They’re heading out, as soon as the ballroom closes tonight – down into Soho.’

Rosa erupted in laughter. ‘You’re pulling our legs. Haughty Miss Marchmont, icy Hélène, wants some action?’

‘I’m telling you. I heard them talking about it, right there in the reception hall.’

‘And Raymond de Guise going with them?’

‘Well, it stands to reason, doesn’t it?’ Rosa said. ‘See, I told you they was lovers. Now it all makes sense. They slope off to Soho for some private dancing, after they’ve done their duties for all the toffs down here. Goodness, girls, if only Mr Charles knew! They’ll be turning his hotel into a house of ill repute next. All those exotic dances!’

All around the kitchenette, the girls were falling around laughing – but, alone among them, Nancy was still. He didn’t tell me, she thought. Why didn’t he tell me? While the girls creased up around her, she turned and fled through the kitchenette door, back into her bedroom, and slammed the door.

He doesn’t have to tell you everything. Just because you confided in him. He never made a promise. He never . . .

Why was she so angry?