Barely breaking her stride as she bustled past to reach the office door, Mrs Moffatt remarked, ‘Then not a rule has been broken, Mr Simenon. This young lady may be about to join the ranks of this fine establishment, but she isn’t a member of staff until I have her signature on my papers. And since those papers are through that door –’ She lifted a finger to point – ‘she can eat as many – what are they, Eccles cakes? – as she wants. Miss Nettleton, do you want to come through? We’ll have you sorted in a trice.’

Nancy had no time to reply before Mrs Moffatt took a ring of keys from her house dress, unlocked the HOUSEKEEPING door and stepped through. Mr Simenon’s serpentine eyes were still on Nancy as she followed.

Here was a compact room with a desk, a small mahogany cabinet and two velveteen armchairs arranged around a coffee table, on which stood a vase of freshly cut peonies. There was no natural light in here, so Mrs Moffatt turned a dial and the electric lamp dangling from the ceiling hummed into being. To Nancy, whose family home had been lit by paraffin lamps, the light was simply dazzling.

‘I’ve begun on the wrong foot, haven’t I, Mrs Moffatt?’

‘Think nothing of it. I’m afraid one of the things you’ll discover, Miss Nettleton, is that the concierges believe the Buckingham would be little but a crater in the ground if it weren’t for them. Mr Simenon’s the head of them and, unluckily for you, the worst. If he thought a guest was offended by the blue of his eyes, he’d pluck them out and send them out to be coloured.’ Mrs Moffatt must have seen the way Nancy’s jaw dropped open, because she threw her head back and laughed. Finding her breath, Nancy dared to smile too.

‘Here,’ Mrs Moffat said, indicating a clipboard of papers, ‘you’ll find everything precisely as it says in your letter. Six pounds and two crowns a month, board included. You’ll begin on mornings and cycle through until late. I’m afraid you’re for Saturdays as well. We’ve been in need of a Saturday girl for some time. We have eight housekeepers here at the Buckingham. I’m head of those housekeepers, and you’ll be with me for your first month. Stay by my side, do exactly as requested, and we’ll be the firmest of friends. And at least that way, I can keep Mr Simenon at bay . . .’

Nancy took an inkpot and pen and, mindful that she did not blot the paper, spelled out her name as neatly as she could.

‘There.’ Mrs Moffatt beamed. ‘Now you’re mine . . . Let’s show you to your room, shall we?’