Nancy nodded. ‘Did my accent give me away? I admit I’m not altogether as polished as some, but Mrs Moffatt said it doesn’t matter where you come from, not here. Once you step through the Buckingham doors, once you wear a uniform with the silver crown embroidered on it, you’re of the Buckingham Hotel, and that’s it.’

A strange look passed across Raymond’s face. ‘There is some truth in that, Miss Nettleton.’ He turned as if to depart through the dressing-room back doors, but at the last moment something stopped him and he looked back. ‘Everyone has to know their place in a hotel like this. Not just the chambermaids and the concierges. Not just the pages and the pot boys in the kitchens. Even me. Even Archie Adams has a role to play. Why, even Mr Maynard Charles himself. The point is, if you don’t know your place here then Miss Edgerton is the least of the problems, you’ll find. I shouldn’t say this, Miss Nettleton, and perhaps I’ll live to regret it, but – stay away, wherever and however you can, from the Edgerton set. You’ll see them in the hotel from time to time. You’ll clean up after them and make tidy their beds. The Hamburg Schechts, or Mr Mosley, any of Lord Edgerton’s associates at that Fascist Union of his. They gather, sometimes, in the Grand or the cocktail lounge or the brasserie. If you cross paths with them, make sure you stay downwind, won’t you?’ He paused. ‘I don’t know why, but you stick out like a sore thumb, Miss Nettleton.’ He looked at her, his sad eyes aglow. ‘I mean that as a compliment. But sometimes, just sometimes, you might find that, in the Buckingham Hotel, being invisible is a strength.’

Nancy was about to reply when she heard her name being called out across the ballroom. Raymond nodded at her again, then disappeared back through the dressing-room doors – and she turned to see the rest of the chambermaids gathered around one of the crystal chandeliers, which lay on the ballroom floor like a shimmering giant’s crown.

‘Miss Nettleton!’ Mrs Moffatt barked as Nancy squeezed her way into the fringes of the group. ‘Good of you to join us!’

‘I’m sorry, Mrs Moffatt. My head was rather in the clouds.’ Somewhere beside her she thought she heard one of the girls saying, ‘Who on earth does she think she is?’

But then Mrs Moffatt was directing them in the ways to unclasp the chandelier’s pendants and spurs, how to drain oil from its overflow cups, how to detach each branch from the miniature crown at its end, cupping it against the body to protect the crystals still glittering on its circumference – and, whatever mutterings there were about her were lost as the day’s work began.

Chapter Nine

Chapter Nine