The dressing rooms behind the Grand were eerily silent as the procession of chambermaids – laden with buckets, dusters, mops and brushes – entered by the back doors and walked through. The walls were decorated with great portraits of Hélène Marchmont and Raymond de Guise, photographs taken in black and white of the princes and starlets with whom they danced, right here in the Buckingham Hotel. Hand-painted posters announcing the arrival of the Archie Adams Band stood either side of a bank of great mirrors set into silver frames – and, between the velveteen couches where the dancers and musicians reclined each night, wardrobes stood open, displaying ball gowns of turquoise and coral, robe-de-style gowns of pink peach satin, black evening dresses of soft plush velvet, fitted bodices, ivory corsets and so much more.

The girls were filing through the ballroom doors, out onto the dance floor itself. They must have done this before, because not one of them batted an eyelid as they stepped through the great swinging doors into the cavernous interior. Only Nancy paused as she crossed the threshold. Perhaps this was what it was like to be Hélène Marchmont or Raymond de Guise. Imagine the music, she thought. Imagine the applause.

But there was no applause today, and no music would be heard in the ballroom all week. As Nancy emerged, she saw Mrs Moffatt holding court over the chambermaids who’d already arrived. Tall scaffolds were being assembled to reach the great chandeliers hanging above. One caretaker, atop one of the precarious-looking constructions, was reaching out with a spanner to ease the chandelier out of the contraption that held it there. Mrs Moffatt had said it took an entire week to bring them down, clean them to perfection, and hoist them back into place – and now that Nancy saw the scale of the endeavour, she could quite believe it.

Other workmen were busying themselves around the corners of the room. The tables and chairs had been stored, and a carpenter and his lads were down on their hands and knees, inspecting the floorboards for the damage caused by gentlemen’s brogues and ladies’ heels.

The Grand was due to be closed for seven days and seven nights. While Mrs Whitehead stretched the rest of the girls to take care of the rooms and suites, Mrs Moffatt rallied her own housekeeping staff around her. Chandeliers did not polish themselves.