Tag: mary harper

About That Big Event

On By chrisnickson2In annabelle harper, gods of gold, leeds, skin like silver, the tin god, tom harper, two bronze pennies4 Comments

Well, it happened. Last week my exhibition A Copper’s Eye: Tom Harper’s Leeds 1890-1920 opened at Leeds Libraries. Then Monday night saw the event to go with it. Was it a big deal? Yes, it really was, the culmination of the biggest thing I’ve done in my life.

A celebration of Tom and Annabelle Harper, yes, as the series them ended with the publication of Rusted Souls (the Morning Star termed the series “a testament to historical crime fiction”). But it also celebrated a slice of Leeds history, the period covedred in the books, with some of the real events who were in the books.

I astonished everyone by turning up in a suit and tie, the first time most had ever seen me dressed up, and not even directly from a court appearance. I talked, but there were also mirco lectures from suffrage historian Vine Pemberton Joss, on the 1894 Local Government Act and the 1908 Suffragette Riot. Dr. Anna Reeve explained how ancient Cypriot poterry ended up in The Iron Water (fitting, as she told me about it in the first place).

The great political figure Tom Maguire was represented, with one of his poems set to music and performed by industrial ballad singer Jennifer Reid. You can listen to it here.

And the Harpers? Daughter Mary was there in the flesh (played by Amy McCann. Annabelle couldn’t make it, but we did have a recording of a speech she gave when campaigning to become a Poor Law Guardian in 1897. Hear her right here.

The librarians were oncredible, putting out some wonderful artefacts and helping things to go far more smoothly than they should with no run-through or rehearsal.

People seemed to like it. About 50 showed up on a rainy Monday night, and the Lord Mayor told me she’s a fan of the books.

I was drained when the adrenaline finally left my system. But I was happy. I think I’ve written Tom and Annabelle into the fabric of Leeds history, and that’s the best tribute I can pay them. They were Leeds.

Meanwhile, here’s a gallery of some of the sights and sounds from Monday night for those who couldn’t attend. And remember, you can still but Rusted Souls.

The Story Behind Rusted Souls

On By chrisnickson2In annabelle harper, gods of gold, leeds, tom harper4 Comments

Let me tell you a story. After all, it’s what I do.

It’s about Rusted Souls, the final Tom Harper book which will appear in a little under three months.

Actually, it’s about the writing of it. What you’ll see in the bookshops and libraries is a long way from how the book originally began. This was the opening of the first version:

The meeting was nearly over when Miss Sharp rushed into the room, her face anxious. Harper stopped talking and nodded as she whispered in his good ear. Barely a moment and she was gone again, leaving him scowling. The door closed behind her with a soft click. The room was quiet, the heads of each police division in Leeds waiting expectantly.

‘The jury’s just delivered its verdict.’ He paused and drew in a breath. ‘You won’t like it. Not guilty.’

He had the superintendents together, the way he did every Monday morning. Now they all began to speak at once, a clamour of voices that twisted together in outrage and fury. Twelve good people and true had decided that there wasn’t enough evidence to convict Harry Ryder of the attempted murder of Constable Albert Hardisty. For Christ’s sake, he thought: the policeman had been shot twice in the back; he’d never be fit enough to return to work. Ryder had been discovered with the pistol in his hand. Yet somehow the jury had found him not guilty.

I wrote the whole book, right down to the ending, then set it aside in September 2021, a long time ago now. I’d intended to let it marinate for a month, then come back and revise it. But a month passed, then another, and still I didn’t touch it.

It took a little while, but I came to realise that Tom Harper needed something better for the end of his career. All that remains of that early attempt is the title, and I’d settled on that long, long ago.

Tom had been a member of Leeds City Police for 40 years. He’d risen from constable to chief constable, a remarkable thing for a man who grew up in the poor streets of the Leylands. His wife was…well, no spoilers.

He deserved to leave with dignity, head held high. Tom Harper deserved his elegy, and that early attempt wasn’t it. It wasn’t a bad book; just not the one he deserved. I knew that everything had to be different. Like this:

Thompson’s secretary waved him through.

‘Close the door,’ the alderman told him. ‘Take a seat.’

‘You wanted to see me?’

Thompson didn’t reply, just gave a nod. Normally he was bluff, loud, rolling over everything in his path like one of the tanks the army had used in the war. Nothing stopped him. He was a big man, florid and hearty, with a large belly and quick, roaring laugh. But today he was hesitant, his body hunched in on itself.

‘Can you keep your mouth shut?’

‘I always have,’ Harper replied. ‘You ought to know that.’

Thompson fixed him with a glare. ‘Then make sure it stays that way.’

‘Why? What’s happened?’ Nothing good, that much was certain.

The alderman took a few breaths before he could bring himself to answer. ‘I’m being blackmailed.’

Whatever Harper expected, it hadn’t been that. Thompson had always seemed too shrewd to leave himself open to anything like blackmail. The kind who planned five or ten moves ahead and always made certain to cover himself. A man who left nothing to chance.

Humiliation showed on his face.

‘We can arrest them, take them to court,’ Harper said. ‘It’s a crime—’

‘No.’ The word came out harshly. ‘No,’ Thompson repeated more softly. ‘Nothing public.’

‘Then it’s going to be difficult. You must realize that.’

‘Of course I bloody do.’ Fire flickered across his face. ‘Why do you think I’ve come to you?’

And so it starts…At heart an elegy, tempered with sorrow and grief rather than fired by anger. An elegy not just for Tom, but also Annabelle, and Mary. And, perhaps, for Leeds, as it begins to recover from the Great War and the Spanish flu.

I hope you like it. For reviewers and bloggers, Rusted Souls is now available on NetGalley. You can, of course, pre-order from your local independent bookshop, or the cheapest price online is here (with free UK postage). I know many can’t afford books, but your library will order a copy for you.

However it reaches you, I honestly hope you like it and how it all turns out. They all deserve grace.

Saying Goodbye To Book Family

On By chrisnickson2In annabelle harper, leeds, tom harper8 Comments

This morning I finished writing the 11th and final Tom Harper book. It’s a strange feeling to know I’m saying a final farewell to Tom, Annabelle, Mary, Ash and the others. After all, we’ve gone through 30 years together – it takes place in 1920, three decades after Gods of Gold. An awful lot has happened along the way, to Leeds, to the world, and to them. I’ve been their companion for almost a million words.

Curiously, it’s not the first time I’ve written a book with the title Rusted Souls. I completed a version last year, but even as I was working on it, I know Tom deserved to bow out on something better than this. I set it aside and never went back to it, and I know that was the right decision.

This one is the Tom Harper book I was meant to write.

It’s still only a draft. I’m going to allow it to percolate for a few weeks, go back and hopefully make it a better book – probably about the time A Dark Steel Death is officially published (although everyone appears to be selling it already, so do please get your copy or reserve it from your local library). And even then, there’s no guarantee my publisher will want it. Of course, I hope they will, to round things off neatly.

I feel sad to be saying goodbye to people who’ve been such good friends. More than that, they’ve become family. I know them so well, their joys, their sorrows and the pain they have. Strange as it may sound, I feel privileged to have been in their lives.

And please, don’t tell me they’re fictional. I won’t believe you.

The Molten City – An Extract

On By chrisnickson2In annabelle harper, leeds, tom harper, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Five week now until The Molten City is published. To whet you’re appetite and get you ordering it (hopefully), here’s a very short extract from the book. It’s 1908, and Harper’s daughter, Mary, is 16 now, a Suffragette supporter; her mother, Annabelle, is a Suffragist, opposed to the violence Mrs Pankhurst’s women espouse. Herbert Asquith, the Prime Minster, is about to arrive to give a speech in Leeds. The Suffragettes, led by a woman named Jennie Baines, are demonstarting at his opposition to women’s suffrage, and the unemployed men are holding their own rally in opposition to the government inaction on jobs.  If they come together outside the Coliseum, where the PM is giving his speech, there’s going to be a riot.

 

Harper looked around the railways station. It all seemed ordinary. No sign of anyone lurking. Just the everyday travellers and people waiting for arrivals. He let out a breath, then he was aware of someone running.

A constable in uniform, his face red as he gasped for breath, boots skidding over the tiles. A hasty salute.

‘I was looking for you up by the Coliseum, sir. Message for you from Millgarth. Sergeant Mason says to tell you it’s important.’

‘What does he want?’ He felt fear creeping up from his belly.

‘Don’t know, sir. He just told me to give you this and get back sharpish.’ He thrust a piece of paper in Harper’s hand and ran off.

Your wife telephoned. Vital you ring her as soon as possible.

He opened his watch. Twenty past four. God Almighty. The Prime Minister’s train was due in ten minutes.

‘You keep watch,’ he told Emerson. ‘If anything happens, come and get me immediately.’

In the station master’s office, he lifted the receiver, waiting impatiently for the connection.

‘What is it?’ he asked as soon as Annabelle was on the line. ‘The prime minister’s arriving any minute.’

‘It’s Mary,’ she said, and he stopped, unable to say a word. ‘She told me she was going to do some shopping after work this afternoon.’ Annabelle caught her breath. ‘She telephoned half an hour ago. She’s going to the demonstration, Tom. I’ll swing for the little madam, behaving like this.’

Christ, he thought. Bloody girl.

‘I can’t do anything now. Nothing.’ He tried to think. ‘I’ll tell Ash.’

‘I’m coming down there.’

‘Don’t—’ he began, but she’d already gone.

Damn the girl. They’d told her, but she had to go and bloody defy them. Now she was going to be trapped in the middle of a war and there was nothing he could do to help her. If she was hurt, injured . . . not just her. Annabelle, too.

He dared not let himself think about it. Not now. Not—

‘Sir,’ Emerson said, ‘the Chief Constable is looking for you.’

 

 

Harper hurried up the hill, crossing Great George Street, passing the Mechanics’ Institute. Ash stood in the middle of the road, tall, bulky in his overcoat and new bowler hat.

He nodded towards the Coliseum. ‘Almost full in there, sir. They’re just waiting for the guests of honour. Everything in order?’

‘No.’ He pointed at the suffragettes, close to a hundred of them now, penned in on Vernon Street. ‘My daughter’s in with them and Mrs Harper is on her way down here.’ He could hear how frantic he sounded. It didn’t matter. He didn’t care.

There was too much to juggle. The prime minister would arrive at any moment. The last of the audience was filing into the hall. Businessmen in expensive suits, tickets checked at the door before they could gain entry.

Mrs Baines was addressing the women, her voice loud and strident. And somewhere among them . . .

‘It’s probably just a matter of time before the unemployed men break out from that rally they’re holding,’ Harper said.

‘We have the reinforcements, sir.’

He shook his head. ‘I’m holding them back for when we really need them. We’d just better be prepared for the worst. It’s not far away.’

‘We’ll manage, sir. You leave things up here with me. I’ll have that lass of yours out of there.’ He marched away, shoulders back, shouting orders at the constables.

Harper stood. For a moment he felt utterly lost, out of his depth. Too much was happening, his head was on fire. This was like trying to keep a dozen balls in the air, knowing that if one fell, chaos would follow.

Suddenly, off in the distance, he made out a faint swell of cheering. He cocked his head, leaning his good ear towards the sound. It was definitely there. Asquith’s procession was drawing closer, all those people by the side of the road happy to have a sight of their prime minister. A tiny glimmer of sanity among the madness.

He ran his palms down his cheeks.

Everyone was relying on him to make sure the politicians were safe. Let the demonstrators bray all they liked, that wasn’t going to do any damage. Words might fill the air, but they couldn’t wound. Nobody would die from them. But if it went beyond that – when it did – he’d stop them.

A final breath and he was ready.

The first of the motor cars came in sight. A chorus of boos, a clamour of shouting from the women. He searched their faces for Mary. Couldn’t see her. A swift prayer to keep her safe. Her and Annabelle.

 

You can order from your favourite bookshop (or ask your library to get it in). This place has the cheapest price (currently £15.66, with free UK postage).

Molten City