Read an extract from AGONY IN AMETHYST

CHAPTER ONE

Wednesday 28 June 1911

Harriet Gordon stood on the edge of what passed for the garden of St. Thomas House, watching the troop of resident Macaques in the undeveloped bushland beyond their boundary. Her fingers tightened on the paper she held scrunched in her hand and smiled.

“He’s coming home,” she said to the monkeys, who stopped their cavorting to glance at her with their dark, uncurious eyes before turning their attention back to the small group of Macaques.

The youngsters gamboled in the leaves and branches as the young of any species will, pushing and shoving, accompanied by squeals of delight. Occasionally one would overreach and tumble, brought up short by a lower branch and with an indignant chatter he would bound back to join his cousins.

While they provided endless delight to Harriet, they were the bane of her cook, Lokman’s existence. Not a day went by uninterrupted by the banging of a metal spoon on a pot, indicating one of the bolder apes had attempted to broach the bounds of the kitchen. They were notorious thieves. Their marauding ways made even the house unsafe, so grills had been installed on the windows and the residents had learned to keep the front and back doors shut.

The gate that led from the headmaster’s house through the hedge to the school squeaked, and Harriet turned to see her ward, Will Lawson, in muddy sports clothes, a streak of drying mud across his nose. Her heart lifted to see him, and she gestured for him to join her. 

Harriet wrinkled her nose. “Look at you. A good rugby match, I take it?”

“We beat them,” Will said. “I scored a try.”

Will had recently turned eleven and was growing faster than his wardrobe. His sports top strained across his shoulders. He would never be tall, but he was sturdy and athletic, and she observed with pride that he was growing into a delightful young man. Like all the boys in the senior class, he would be leaving for school abroad in September. In Will’s case, to the Royal College in Colombo. Not quite as far as England, but far enough for Harriet.

“What are you doing?” Will asked.

“Watching the monkeys,” Harriet said.

Will lifted a shoulder. “I don’t like monkeys.”

She looked at him in surprise. It was so unusual for Will to express his feelings on any subject. “Why is that?”

He toed the hardy grass with his mud caked boot.

“They stole my mother’s locket. She cried for days. It had the pictures of my brother and sister. Papa was so angry with her for leaving it out where they would find it.”

Harriet put her arm around his shoulders and drew the dear, damp and muddy boy into her. He never spoke of his parents or his life before the traumatic events that had left him an orphan. Will’s mother had died of Blackwater fever, following his brother and sister into early graves. His father, John Lawson, had been a less than satisfactory parent and had been killed just over a year previously. Harriet and her brother, Julian, had become the boy’s legal guardians.

As if reading her thoughts, Will leaned into her. “Aunt Harriet? What did Papa do that was so bad?”

Not once in the twelve months he had lived with them, had he asked about his father.

She hugged him harder. “Oh, Will … what makes you ask that?”

“Something one of the boys at school said. He said that Papa was a criminal who got what he deserved.”

“Who said that?” Harriet fought the rising anger.

“Hardcastle.”

“Hardcastle doesn’t know what he is talking about,” Harriet said but her heart missed a beat. How had such rumors of John Lawson’s death got around?

Will turned his face up to her. “But is it true, Aunt Harriet?”

She sighed. She and Julian had agreed that Will should be told the truth about his father, but only when he was old enough to understand what his father had done. Had that time come?

“Will, this is a conversation to have with both of us. Julian is better at explaining things than I.”

“But you were there, Aunt Harriet. Uncle Julian wasn’t.”

That was not a memory Harriet wished to revive. Yes, she had been present when John Lawson had been shot and she had been by his bedside in his last hours. She knew the whole story but now was not the time or place.

“I promise that before you leave for school in Colombo, we will talk to you.”

Will stiffened and would have shaken her arm free but she tightened her grip.

“I want you to know one thing, Will. You are as dear to Julian and me as my own son, Thomas, and you remind me so much of him. I don’t want you to ever forget that you are very dearly loved.”

To emphasize her point, she dropped a motherly kiss on the top of his head.

Will colored. “And I… ummm… you know… “

Love you too?

She smiled and gave his shoulders one final squeeze. 

“I know,” she said.

She released her grip on him and he gave a small shake as if to dispel the stigma of physical gestures of affection.

“What are you two up to?”

Harriet turned to see Julian striding toward them.

“Just watching the monkeys and thinking how like us they are. They all have their own personalities and their place in the hierarchy,” Harriet said.

Julian put his hands behind his back, and they stood in companionable silence for a few minutes watching the antics of the monkeys.

“Well played this afternoon,” Julian said to Will.

“Thank you, sir. I better go and wash up before supper.”

For Will, Julian was ‘sir’ at school and ‘Uncle Julian’ at home but sometimes the boundaries blurred.

Julian and Harriet watched the boy lope toward the house, his gait no longer that of a child.

“Back door!” Harriet shouted after him.

Their housekeeper, Huo Jin, would not thank her for the mud of a rugby field trekked through the house.

When she was certain the boy was out of earshot, she said, “He’s growing up, Julian. He asked me about his father. One of the boys at school told him his father was a criminal who got what he deserved,”

Julian’s mouth tightened and he sighed. “Which boy?”

“Hardcastle.”

Julian rolled his eyes. “Of course it was Hardcastle. I had to put him on detention today. Frankly, I can’t wait for him to move on to school in England at the end of this term.”

“What are we going to do about Will?” she asked.

Julian took a deep breath. “We will have to tell him the truth before he goes to Colombo,” he said. “Lies beget lies. We always agreed that when he asked, we would be honest with him.”

“I just wanted him to be older…”

“As you said, he is growing up, Harriet. Once he goes to Colombo, we will lose him.”

Tears pricked the back of Harriet’s eyes.

“Don’t say that.”

Julian patted her shoulder. “Come on, old thing. Time we got ready for supper.”

As they strolled back to the house, Harriet pulled the crumpled telegram from her pocket..

In typical Curran fashion it was short and to the point.

 Arriving back on overnight train from KL tomorrow.

“Curran will arrive back in Singapore tomorrow.”

“Permanently?”

“I think so.”

I hope so.

Inspector Robert Curran of the Straits Settlements Police Force had been away from Singapore for months. His last case had involved the uncovering of widespread corruption within the British administration in Kuala Lumpur. The case had ended in the Batu Caves, an incident during which Harriet had been wounded in the leg and the perpetrators caught. However, the ripples had spread through the colonial service and Curran had been summoned to London to give evidence in an internal investigation, which, he had told Harriet, would achieve nothing.

Julian took the telegram, read the few words and handed her back the crumpled paper.

“Will you go to meet him?”

“I’m not sure.”

Harriet looked down at the unsatisfactory words on the telegram. They had been apart too long for such a fledgling relationship. She had written weekly letters, half afraid to betray too much of herself and her aching heart, but somewhat to her surprise the letters that had come back from Curran written in his firm, illegible or legible? handwriting had given her hope. She had read and reread them, lingering on every loving word, stowing the envelopes in her drawer, only to take them out again, tucking them beneath her pillow like a lovelorn schoolgirl.

Julian, who probably knew her better than she did herself, laid a hand on her shoulder. “Of course you will go, Harri. You both need to start again. The last few months have been difficult.”

“I hope he still feels the same way as I do.”

Julian smiled. “I’m sure he does.”

Harriet punched her brother lightly on the arm. “And on that subject, what about Esme? You and Esme have been stepping out for months now, Julian…”

She cast him a sisterly, wide-eyed look of expectation.

A high color rose to her brother’s cheeks. “Harri … I’m terrified she will say no. There’s been no one since Jane and I’m not sure how to even broach the subject.”

Harriet tucked her hand into her brother’s arm. “Oh Julian, we are a hopeless pair.”

CHAPTER TWO

Thursday, 29 June

When Harriet had left home, she had given every appearance of being cool and collected. Now, standing in the heat on the platform at the Tank Road Railway Station, it felt as if she was melting. Stray wisps of hair clung to her damp face and perspiration ran down her back beneath her corset and camisole. She had purchased the beige linen suit with matching, ridiculously overlarge hat, just for this occasion, and now she just felt hot and uncomfortable and foolish.

The train rounded the bend, belching steam and cinders as it drew to a clanking, grinding, screeching halt. Harriet took a deep, steadying breath, scanning the carriages, her heart jumping at every tall male, stooping to jump down onto the platform. There was Curran, dressed in civilian clothes, a Panama hat pulled down low over his eyes, his linen jacket flung over his shoulder and a leather suitcase in hand.

They walked toward each other. The walk became a run. He dropped his suitcase and jacket onto the dusty platform and she was in his arms. She breathed in the familiar scent of him and the taste of his lips on hers.

From somewhere behind her, a disapproving matron tssked, but she didn’t care. Curran was home in Singapore. Her Curran. To hell with propriety. They had months of enforced separation to make up for and she didn’t give a damn what people thought.

“Harriet, I have missed you,” he said at last as they drew apart.

She smiled. “Liar. You have been far too busy to spare me more than a passing thought.”

“You are completely wrong,” he said.

He traced a finger down the bridge of her nose.

“I have missed those freckles, the way your mouth lifts slightly higher on the right side when you smile, the lines in the corners of your eyes—”

“I do not have lines in the corners of my eyes!”

He chuckled and his arms tightened around her again. “That is a moot point we can discuss later. You look wonderful.”

She took a moment to study his face, every loved and remembered detail.

“You look tired,” she concluded.

“Thank you,” he chuckled, but the humor went from his eyes. “It has all been a massive waste of time. Nothing will change.” He put an arm around her shoulders. “Let’s go and find somewhere quiet where we can talk and catch up.”

“Your motor vehicle awaits,” Harriet said with a flourish, as they stepped out of the station.

Curran looked from the blue Sheffield Simplex to Harriet. “How…?”

She smiled. “I drove it. Julian has given me lessons.”

“That’s the last time I loan my possessions to your brother,” he said. “I thought a clergyman could be trusted.”

“He says I am very good, and a useful skill for an independent woman to acquire,” Harriet said. “Would you like me to demonstrate?”

“Another time.” Curran opened the passenger door and Harriet climbed in, tying on her hat as Curran settled into the driver’s seat.

“Breakfast at Raffles,” he declared

* * *

“Didn’t you get breakfast on the train?” Harriet asked as Curran pushed aside the now empty plate, having cleaned every skerrick of eggs, bacon, and toast.

“I am going to be living in the barracks in the police lines,” Curran said. “The food is notoriously bad, even for the officers.”

“What now?” Harriet asked.

He raised an eyebrow. “Meaning?”

“The promised promotion to Chief Inspector?”

He nodded. “I will meet with Cuscaden this afternoon and hopefully the news will be good.”

“You mean it hasn’t been confirmed?”

He shook his head. “All I was told was that I would be advised when the Kuala Lumpur case had been finalized and I return to duties in Singapore.”

“And is the Kuala Lumpur case done?”

“Yes. All nicely filed and tucked away in the filing cabinets of Whitehall, never to be spoken of again. An unfortunate side note to history.”

“And London?”

He shuddered. “Cold, wet and dreary. However, I did have a chance to see Eloise.”

Curran’s cousin, Lady Eloise Warby, a hard-line supporter of the Women’s Social and Political Union, had suffered for her loyalty to the suffragette cause, as Harriet had. The two women had been arrested at the same protest and sentenced to time in Holloway. The force feeding nearly killed Harriet and she had been released, but Eloise continued her protests and had now served several harrowing stretches in Holloway.

“How is she?”

He frowned. “Frail,” he said. “A strong wind would blow her away, but she is determined to continue the fight. I admire her courage, but her husband is desperately worried.”

Harriet looked down at the half-drunk cup of tea in front of her. Unlike Eloise Warby, she had lacked the courage to continue the fight. She had run away, escaped to Singapore. She still felt her desertion as a failing.

As if reading her thoughts, Curran put his hand over hers. “Harriet, she has not forgotten you. She sent her warmest regards and wishes you well.”

Harriet nodded but his reassurance only deepened her sense of guilt and failure.

Curran straightened and turned to buttering toast. “And your family,” he said. “I had a most enjoyable evening at your parent’s home. I have presents for you all, including Will. Your mother particularly wanted to know all about Esme Prynne.” He looked up and narrowed his eyes. “She didn’t seem to know anything about you and me.”

“I haven’t said anything, even to my sister Mary, and I swore Julian to silence. I didn’t want to pre-empt…” She swallowed. “You and me.”

Curran studied her for a long moment. “It did make things a little awkward,” he said, “but fortunately we could speculate on Julian and Esme’s future without your mother becoming suspicious.”

“I told you Esme is here in Singapore,” Harriet said. “She is doing well as the acting Principal of the Singapore Ladies Academy.”

“And she has you working for her?”

“I couldn’t go back to the Detective Branch and I needed employment,” Harriet said. “Even with a scholarship, Will’s schooling will take every spare penny Julian and I can manage. The work is no different from what I was doing for Julian, the only difference is I get paid a proper salary and Esme even has me teaching shorthand and typing to the older girls.”

“And where do things stand with Esme and Julian?”

Harriet rolled her eyes. “He has been writing her poetry. Thank heavens you don’t write poetry, Curran.”

His lip twitched. “I did write letters though.”

She smiled. “You did. They were lovely letters.”

He searched her face. “Has anything changed? Do you…?”

Harriet widened her eyes in mock naivety. “Do I what?”

“Do you still want to make this work? Has anything changed?”

She held his gaze. “No, nothing has changed, Curran. All we need is a bit of time.”

He nodded. “Hopefully, we have that now life is back to normal.”

“Will you come for dinner tonight?”

He shook his head. “No. Samrita and Lavinia are expecting me.” He frowned. “How is Samrita? It was hard to tell from her two letters. She seemed happy enough.”

Curran had only recently discovered his two half siblings, Jayant and his sister, Samrita. It had been a shock to discover the father he had thought of as long dead had survived the massacre at Kandahar and lived for many years in India with his second family.

When Samrita had been kidnapped, Jayant had sought him out to assist in finding her and Curran had liberated his sister from the clutches of the notorious Topaz Club, which had been associated with the corruption scandal that had seen him sent to Kuala Lumpur late the previous year.  His hope of getting to know his sister better was cut short when he received orders to go to London.

“Samrita is fine,” Harriet said. “Ridley is employing her at the Botanical Garden to do botanical drawings and her artwork is getting her noticed. You will hardly recognize her now.”

“That’s good to hear,” Curran said. “Lavinia organized a proper art teacher for her so that should be a help for her.”

Curran took Harriet’s hand, twisting her fingers in his.

“There is something you need to know. It will be in the paper tomorrow morning, but I wanted to tell you first. Edith Robertson was sentenced yesterday.”

Harriet held her breath, knowing the answer even before she asked the question. “And?”

“She has been sentenced to hang.”

She sighed. “That is not unexpected.”

The previous December, when Curran had been in Kuala Lumpur working on the Topaz Club case, Harriet and Julian had been guests of the principal of the Prince Alfred School in Kuala Lumpur, Henry Robertson and his wife Edith. Their visit had been cut short when Edith Robertson shot her lover, Walter Stewart, on the steps of her house. Her defence, that she was defending her honor, had always been shaky and the judge and his two advisors had arrived at a guilty verdict without difficulty.

Now she would hang.

“Poor Edith … poor Henry and poor little Dottie. I had hoped that maybe the judge would be inclined to mercy,” Harriet said.

“There is an uproar in KL,” Curran said. “Whatever the English community may have thought of Mrs. Robertson, they won’t see an Englishwoman hanged. There is talk of petitioning the Sultan of Selangor for clemency.”

“Hypocrites,” Harriet said with feeling. “The English community despised poor Edith and now she is their heroine that they have to save? If she had been a woman of any other race, she would go to the gallows unremarked. Thank you for warning me.”

Curran brushed the crumbs from his jacket. “Harriet, dearly as I would love to spend more time with you today, I am expected at South Bridge Road, and I need to find my rooms in the police lines and organise a uniform. I am afraid the next few days are going to be busy.”

“Come for dinner on Saturday night,” Harriet said. “Esme will be there too. I will catch a ricksha home if you need to keep moving.”

Curran stood up and bent his head to kiss her.

“It is good to be home, Harriet.”

She caught his hand. “And it’s good to have you home.”

He squeezed her fingers. “Until Saturday.”

She watched as he strode out of the room, the eyes of the other diners covertly following him, before swiveling back to her. The gossips’ tongues would be sharpened and she didn’t give a damn.

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