Mrs Doreen Goodman
Tiny, elf-like black lady. Sits smiling in conservative blue clothes, teased up straightened brown hair, and padded shoes. On her lap, there is a parcel wrapped in purple with a lavender ribbon.
Works in the Corporate Development Unit of the London Emergency Service off Morley street. The Unit was set up to market the Service after a series of management disasters, particularly a new computer system. A new logo, a Management Accounting System and stringent financial targets were put in place by the new manager, a failed banker. Doreen types his memos and drafts the letters to employees who have been made redundant.
Doreen has always been a quiet soul. She has a sweet slow husband, whose moustache is white and who has retired from his job as a security guard in a bank. They both miss the island they left as children. Doreen will retire soon and then they will go back home.
What she is doing or thinking
She is thinking of the present she has bought for her boss that sits so prettily on her lap. There is a card signed by the entire Unit. They all banded together to buy it, but it was Doreen's idea.
The boss is old, white haired, and knows only money. She has bought him for his birthday a fossilized turd.
It is probably from a bison or other bovine mammal, large, round in sections and petrified a beautiful smooth blue. He'll have to open it up in front of everyone. She can't wait until she sees his face. Birthday boy.
Car 2 map