“There you are, girl!”
A sharp voice emanated from behind her just a moment before two pinching fingers descended on her left lobe. Nive turned to find herself looking into the long, thin face of a woman who had a rather dignified demeanor when she was not contorted with irritation. Her dark arched brows were halfway to her graying hairline, her lips pursed into a thin line. Nive knew this woman. Her name was Mrs Meansington, and she was the head of housekeeping. She was the one who ensured that the matters of cleaning and such were attended to.
“I told you to turn down the beds three hours ago. Where have you been?!”
Nive was utterly confused as to how she could possibly have been told anything, and tried to say as much, but she did not have a chance. Before she knew what was happening, Mrs Meansington had pulled up the rear of her skirts and began belaboring her bottom with the flat of her her long, bony hand.