Vivienne’s face creased with laughter – but, just as suddenly, it stopped. Her cat’s eyes glared threateningly. ‘Why don’t you take your old lady’s leg and get out of here for an hour? Leave the ballroom to me. You can take your broom with you. I wouldn’t want you getting lonely.’

Nancy wanted to say something. The words were in her throat – but something, whether it was fear or horror or just the idea that the Buckingham was drumming into her that she should know her place, made her choke them back down. Don’t get on her wrong side, she told herself, not again. The broom clattered out of her hand, spinning to a stop on the floor, and she turned on her heel. Then she was off, leaving behind all the half-polished pieces of chandelier.

As she hurried up the slope to the black-and-red tiles of the reception hall, her leg cried out. She stopped to grasp it, stifling a great sob, and was surprised to find Billy Brogan at her side, with his freckled face and his ears sticking out like milk-jug handles.

‘Has something happened, miss?’

Nancy shook her head fiercely, and Billy backed away.

‘Nothing. It’s only . . . my leg.’

‘Bad is it, miss?’

Not so very bad, thought Nancy, and yet bad enough that it doesn’t go unnoticed for long. It pained her, but the pain was not nearly as intense as the spiteful words of Vivienne Edgerton. Those words had cut her like a barb.

‘Thanks for your kindness, Billy,’ she said, ‘but . . .’

‘You mustn’t let them see you, Miss . . . Nettleton, isn’t it?’

‘Call me Nancy.’

‘Let ’em see you cry, Nancy, and they’ll never forget it. And crying in front of guests, it’s not the sort of thing that gets forgiven. It can get you pulled into an office for a stern talking-to. I’ve been on the receiving end of too many, miss, back when I was green. See, we’re meant to be invisible. Listen, there’s a washroom in housekeeping. Hardly ever gets used. Shall we . . .’

When Nancy took his hand, Billy felt a surge of such pride as he had rarely felt before.

‘We’ll have this sorted in a second,’ he said, ‘get you all cleaned up, and no one will be any the wiser.’

*

What Billy called the housekeeping washroom was really the site of the old hotel laundry, which had sat silent since the days before the Great Depression. Billy had to kick old packing crates aside to usher Nancy through. Inside, light streamed in from the garages at the hotel’s rear entrance. There was a kettle and a hot plate and Billy set to fixing her a brew.

‘Officially it’s storage, but think of it as the hotel pages’ lounge. Take milk, do you?’