Carbon Copies, by Sheila Marchbank

An original novel extract set in the twentieth century.

Doreen Kilbride typed the way other people argued. She sat in the front row of the pool, nearest Mr Lusk’s glass office, and attacked her Imperial as if it had insulted her mother. Her carriage bell rang every few seconds, sharp as a slap, while the rest of us plodded along behind her like a brass band that had lost its conductor.

On my first morning she leaned across the aisle, read my letter upside down and tapped one word with a scarlet fingernail.

‘He’ll send that back,’ she said. ‘He sends everything back. Do it again, and do it faster.’

I did it again. She was right: I had spelt ‘receipt’ without its p.

At eleven Mr Lusk came out of his office with a sheaf of corrections, and the clatter of the room died away as if someone had thrown a blanket over it. Only Doreen kept going. He stood behind her chair and cleared his throat twice. She finished her line, pulled the page out with a flourish and held it up over her shoulder without turning round.

‘Three copies, Mr Lusk. Not a mistake in any of them. You can stop breathing down my neck now.’

Somebody gasped. Mr Lusk took the letter, went back into his office and closed the door very quietly.

At lunch, while the rest of us ate our sandwiches in the cloakroom, Doreen stayed at her desk with a shorthand pad, filling page after page. When I asked what she was writing, she covered it with her hand. ‘My way out,’ she said.

What impressions does the writer create of Doreen?

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