‘It isn’t just Miss Edgerton. The other girls have noticed it, Nancy. Rosa and Ruth, and even Mrs Whitehead. We all think we’re different from the rest, Nancy, when we’re young. It’s as you get older that you start realising: we’re all just the same as everyone else. Isn’t it time, Nancy, to do some growing up?’ Mrs Moffatt leaned across the table to take Nancy’s hand – and, because Nancy had so little alternative, she let her. Mrs Moffatt’s hands were leathery, but the touch was gentle. ‘I’m not trying to be cruel, Nancy. Of all the things I am – old and senile to boot – I am not cruel. As I’ve said, and you can believe this or not, I like you. I may even see a little of myself in the pluck you’ve shown coming down here to our hotel. If you want it, I believe there’s a bright future for you at the Buckingham. There’ll come a day when I won’t be here. Somebody will be needed to fill these shoes. Do you think a girl like Rosa or Ruth, good chambermaids but without a single original thought between them, could do this? No, dear. Housekeeping isn’t just housekeeping. It’s numbers and it’s writing, and it’s confidence and verve. Those things you’ve got, Nancy. But you know what else it takes? Patience. Knowing how to speak to your superiors. Knowing when to speak your mind and knowing when to hold your tongue. Do you understand?’

Nancy thought that she did, but Mrs Moffatt’s words were not having the effect they might. All she could think about was whether Raymond was still alive. He had looked so beaten . . . there had been so many punches thrown . . .

‘Let this be the last mistake. Off you go, then, Nancy, and I’ll put a stop to Mr Simenon. I don’t want you leaving the Buckingham Hotel without a reference. Please, Nancy. Think about it, won’t you?’

*

Nancy could not have thought about it, even if she’d wanted to. All she was thinking about as she stepped out of the guest lift and marched to the staff quarters was what had happened to Raymond. At least Rosa and Ruth were already in bed. At least she would not have to face them. With her bedroom door firmly closed behind her, Nancy fell onto the bed. It was only as she lay there that the tears flowed out of her, hot, hard and fast.

What am I even doing here? she trembled. All those weeks and months of saving and planning. Get a job in London, Nancy. Work hard. Live frugally. Save what pennies you get – and, when you can, send for Frank to come and join you. What was it all for, if it can all be obliterated on a whim?