‘What shall I do if I forget the words?’ she squeaked in a panic. ‘I can’t even remember what songs I’m supposed to sing!’

‘You’ll be absolutely fine,’ Maggie told her calmly as she pinned Kitty’s hair up. Just as she finished, they heard the doorbell ring and told her, ‘This is it then. Come along. You won’t want to keep your audience waiting.’

On legs that felt as if they had turned to jelly, Kitty followed her downstairs. Max and Ruby were waiting for them in the hallway and after taking Kitty’s dress from Maggie, Max bowed theatrically and motioned towards the door.

‘Your carriage awaits you, ladies,’ he told them with a cheeky grin and they all trooped out to his car. Ruby sat next to Max in the front while Maggie and Kitty piled into the back.

‘I think you’ll enjoy this evening,’ Max told Kitty as he started the car. ‘And you’ll find it’s a very far cry from the Palm Beach Club.’

Kitty nodded as she twisted her fingers together nervously, but as they approached the theatre her mouth gaped open. Outside the doors was a large poster of her, and queues of people were waiting to go inside.

‘We’re going around to the back of the theatre to the stage entrance,’ Max said, as he turned into a dark alley and pulled up outside a set of double wooden doors. ‘Here we are.’ And he leaped from the car and tapped at the doors. They were opened almost immediately by a small harassed-looking gentleman with a huge moustache.

‘Ah, Mr Thomas, you’ve brought Miss Nightingale, have you?’ The stage door keeper recognised Max instantly. ‘Follow me, sir, and I’ll show you to her dressing room.’ And then they all stepped inside to what Kitty could only describe as absolute chaos. The corridors were full of people – stagehands, musicians, and the other artistes – hurrying to and fro, and somewhere in the distance she could hear the band tuning up and the murmur of the audience taking their seats while chatting animatedly.

The man stopped outside a door and Kitty flushed with pleasure as she saw her name on it alongside a big gold star.

‘Here you are then, Miss Nightingale, break a leg,’ he said jovially as he set off back to his post.

Maggie looked horrified. ‘Whatever did he mean? Break a leg!’

Kitty chuckled. It was her turn to explain: ‘It’s a theatrical term meaning good luck.’

As they all walked into the dressing room, Kitty gasped with delight. There were flowers everywhere she looked and their perfume hung on the air. A bottle of champagne stood cooling in a silver bucket and boxes of brandied cherries, marrons glacés and other treats were scattered about every available surface.

‘It appears that after your last performance you’ve already attracted some admirers,’ Max told her. ‘But now Ruby and I will go and take our seats and leave you to get ready. Just do your best, my little angel, and you’ll be wonderful.’