Read Online The Spiral Staircase by Ethel Lina White - Free Book Online Page B

and kept me in my place… . Well, if she’s a lady, I’m Greta Garbo.”
    “Where is she?” enquired Helen curiously.
    “I put a meal for her in the sitting-room,” replied Mrs. Oates.
    “My room?”
    Mrs. Oates exchanged a smile with her husband. Helen’s sense of ownership was a perpetual source of amusement to them, because of her small stature.
    “Only for tonight,” she said soothingly. “After her wet ride, I thought she’d rather not wait for the regular dinner.”
    “I’ll go and welcome her,” decided Helen, even while she knew that “inspect” would be more appropriate.
    Her own sanctum-a dingy semi-basement room, on the other side of the kitchen-was originally intended for the servants’ hall, in the days before the domestic drought. Its walls and ceiling had been washed butter-yellow, in an attempt to lighten the gloom, and it was shabbily furnished with the overflow of the rest of the house.
    Because it had been assigned to Helen, she clung to it with jealous tenacity. Although she took her meals with the family, in recognition of the fact that her father had done nothing for his living, the corresponding fact, that she, herself, was a worker, cut her off from the privilege of relaxing in the drawingroom.
    As she entered her refuge, the nurse looked up from her tray. She was a tall broad-shouldered woman, and was still wearing her outdoor nursing-uniform, of conventional navyblue. Helen noticed that her features were large and reddened, and her eyebrows bushy and set close together.
    She had nearly finished her meal and was already smoking, between mouthfuls.
    “Are you Nurse Barker?” asked Helen..
    “How do you do?” Nurse Barker spoke in a voice of heavy culture, as she laid down her cigarette. “Are you one of the Miss Warrens?”
    “No, I’m the help, Miss Capel. Have you everything you want?”
    “Yes, thanks.” Nurse Barker began to smoke again. “But I would like to ask a question. Why am I put in the kitchen?”
    “It’s not,” explained Helen. “It’s my own sitting-room.”
    “Do you take your meals here, too?”
    “No. I take them with the family.”
    The sudden gleam in the older woman’s deep-set eyes told Helen that she was jealous. Although it was a novelty to be an object of envy, her instinct advised her to smooth Nurse Barker’s ruffled feelings.
    “The nurse has her own private sitting-room, on the first floor, which is far superior to the basement,” she said. “Your meals are served there. Of course, the same as us. Only” tonight, we thought you’d rather not wait, as you must be cold and tired.”
    “I’m more.” Nurse Barker spoke in tones of tragic intensity. “I’m horrified. This place is off the map. I never expected such a lonely spot.”
    “You knew it was in the country.”
    “I expected the usual country-house. They told me my patient was Lady Warren, which sounded all right.”
    Helen wondered whether she ought to warn Nurse Barker what was in store for her.
    “I’m afraid you may find her a bit strong-willed,” she said. “The last nurse was frightened of her.”
    Nurse Barker swallowed a mouthful of smoke, in professional style. She won’t frighten me,” Nurse Barker declared.. “She’ll find it won’t pay to try her tricks. I keep my patients in order. Influence of course. I believe in kindness. The Iron hand in the velvet glove.”
    “I don’t think an iron hand sounds very kind, remarked Helen. She looked up, with a sense of relief, as Mrs. Oates entered. She had temporarily removed her greasy overall, and was looking forward to gratifying her social instinct.
    “The dinner’ll keep now, till it’s time to dish-up,” she announced. “I popped in to see if you would fancy a bit of pudding Nurse. Plum-pudding, or a bit of gooseberry-pie.
    “Are the gooseberries bottled?” asked Nurse Barker.
    “No, no, our new December crop, fresh-picked from the garden.”
    “Then—neither, thanks,” said Nurse