The Pale One, by Sheila Merriott

An original novel extract set in the twentieth century.

Pauline took over our bedroom every Saturday at six o’clock, and I was allowed to stay only if I kept still and passed things when told. She sat at the dressing table in her slip, with her hair wound round orange juice cans, and studied herself in the mirror as though she were a problem in long division.

‘Lipstick,’ she said, holding out her hand like a surgeon. ‘Not that one. The pale one. Honestly, Jean.’

She drew a line of black along each eyelid without a wobble, then leaned back to judge it. Our mother said she would ruin her eyes. Our father said nothing, but went out to the yard whenever she came downstairs. Pauline ignored them both. She had a job at the shoe shop, two pounds a week of her own and a record player she had paid for in instalments, and as far as she was concerned that made her a grown woman.

At half past seven she stood up, smoothed the turquoise dress over her hips and turned slowly in front of me.

‘Well?’

‘You look like a film star,’ I said, and meant it.

For a second she looked almost shy. Then she bent and dabbed a spot of scent behind my ears, the expensive one from the little bottle she never let me touch.

‘There,’ she said. ‘Now we’ll both smell gorgeous. Don’t wait up.’

What impressions does the writer create of Pauline?

You must refer to the language used in the text to support your answer, using relevant subject terminology where appropriate.