Nancy found her seat again, but all of a sudden the porridge and toast, honeys and preserves, thick butter, pastries and clotted cream didn’t seem so appetising. But you have to eat, she told herself. What would you have said to Frank if he refused to eat before going down to the mine for the day? You’d have caused chaos with him if he’d not finished his plate! ‘You need to stay strong, Frank. You need to look after yourself.’ Well, listen to your own advice, Nancy Nettleton.

It was one thing looking after her little brother. When there was Frank to look after – Frank’s bed to change, Frank’s meals to make, Frank to walk to the end of the lane so that he could join the other children for school – Nancy had barely thought about herself. But this was the new life – and that meant being kind to herself too.

Mrs Moffatt announced the end of breakfast with a simple clap of her hands and the girls cleared the table and hurried off to their stations.

‘Nancy. A word, if I may?’

Nancy’s heart raced again. Does she know, or doesn’t she?

Mrs Moffatt bade Nancy to sit beside her and folded a hand over hers. ‘You’re on edge this morning, Nancy. Is everything—’

Nancy spluttered, ‘Everything’s fine, Mrs Moffatt. I’m—’

‘Tired,’ Mrs Moffatt said, nodding her head sagely. ‘Yes, it can get you like that, when you’re a new girl. It’s important you look after yourself – and not just for the hotel. I need my girls fit and healthy, Nancy.’ She rummaged in her pocket and produced three barley sugar sweets, wrapped up in wax wrappers. ‘Keep them with you,’ she said, ‘pop one in when you feel like you’re starting to flag.’ She beamed and, together, they stood back up. ‘You’ll get through this, Miss Nettleton. I can see it in you. You’re smart and willing and, if you’re a little rough around the edges, that’s nothing as compared to some of the girls I’ve had with me over the years. You and the Buckingham Hotel, you fit each other like hand and glove.’

*

It had been two days since the ballroom closed its doors and, since that moment, Nancy, Rosa and Ruth had been dedicated to polishing numerous pieces of chandelier. With tubs of silver polish and diluted cider vinegar, they worked in procession: one vast dust sheet spread out with the pieces of chandelier waiting to be doused in vinegar and wiped clean; another laid out for the pieces to dry, before being gently massaged with polish and reassembled. As the new girl, Nancy was stuck at the front of the production line. She wondered if the smell of cider vinegar would ever be washed out of her nostrils, her fingertips, her hair.