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‘Jazz Baby, Be Mine’, and I was so surprised. All Robert had ever done was mock me, and it was he who’d told me that the man I’d thought was my father was no such thing. But now he whispered, ‘You’re really getting quite pretty, Sophie, you little tease. How old are you?’
    ‘I’m sixteen,’ I told him.
    ‘Hm. Sweet sixteen,’ he grinned, and he pulled me into his arms. I think he’d half expected me to refuse, but I so longed to dance that I almost forgot it was Robert who held me.
    I picked up the steps quickly because I’d seen the young people do them. Robert was startled and pleased. ‘Sophie,’ he said. ‘How on earth did you learn to move like that?’
    ‘I watched,’ I said simply. How I relished the look of surprise in his eyes. ‘I watched them all, every time there was a party here.’
    He grinned and gave me an extra twirl. ‘Attagirl,’ he said. He liked using modern phrases like that.
    And all of a sudden my dream didn’t seem so impossible after all.
    I was enjoying myself so much. I floated to the music. I danced up and down the hall with Robert, while the house guests were still outside. It must have been towards the end of June, and so warm that – even though the stars were coming out – none of the young people wanted to leave the gardens. Some footmen had taken out baskets of cold meats and salads so the guests couldhave what they called a picnic. How they all laughed, and were excited, to take their supper out there with lamps placed around the lawn and their champagne in buckets of ice!
    Our dancing had stopped, and although the gramophone was still spilling music out into the night air, I knew I had all my evening jobs to do. Reluctantly I started on the washing-up in the scullery, putting on my pinafore and stacking the dirty plates. But when I went back into the servants’ hall to collect more dishes, I froze.
    Most of the staff, like me, had moved on to their usual tasks of damping down the fires around the house, trimming lamps and making sure there was hot water in all the bedrooms. But a dozen or so of the younger ones hadn’t moved from the servants’ hall. Someone had put out most of the lamps, and I realised, with a slow chill of alarm, that they were in pairs, kissing.
    Nell was on her Eddie’s knee in a corner, and I saw that he had his hand down her gown to feel at her breasts, while her hand was between his legs. I could feel a flush of heat rising from my pounding heart to my cheeks. Then someone – it was Richard, one of the new footmen – got to his feet and rang the servants’ handbell. ‘Time’s up!’ he called. ‘Roll the dice again. Your turn to throw, Robert.’
    Slowly – stupidly slowly – I realised what they were doing.
    Robert shook a six, then each girl rolled the dice, and the first to get six – it was Harriet – promptly sat herself on Robert’s knee, flung her arms round his neck andstarted kissing him. Richard, meanwhile, snatched up the dice and threw a four, then sat waiting, with a grin on his face, for one of the girls to shake a four and join him.
    I shrank back into the shadows. I could see that Nell didn’t want to let Eddie take his turn, but he shook her off with a laugh. ‘It’s a game, Nell. Don’t be stupid.’
    Robert, who still had Harriet tight in his arms, suddenly caught sight of me. ‘Don’t look so shocked, little Sophie – come and join us. You never know, you might enjoy yourself.’
    My cheeks burning, I fled back to my washing-up in the scullery. I scrubbed those dishes, plunging my hands in the hot water and carbolic that would make my skin even more sore, and I felt real despair. My life was passing me by. My longing to get to London and be on stage seemed ridiculous and futile. I thought with a pang of Mr Maldon, and how each time I posted my letters to him, my heart grew heavier, because he was becoming only a distant memory, like a dream.
    That night, as I say, was a strange night, and so