There was never much plan to writing my first historical murder mystery, A Seaside Mourning. Like much of life, it just sort of happened. I’d always vaguely wished I could write a detective novel as they’re my favourite reading, along with the fat triple-decker classics of Victorian lit. I’d never written anything longer than free-lance articles and the very occasional short story but gradually you realise that the perfect time will never come. So one day, on impulse, I sat down and tried.
There’s always some impetus to a major new project. Mine was homesickness. We’d moved inland and I was missing the sea. So I started to think about setting about a murder mystery in a fictional Victorian seaside resort. Not somewhere popular and successful, no Scarborough, Llandudno or Brighton. Seaborough would be the sort of sleepy coastal town where the rise of the 19th century holiday trade never quite took off. Somewhere that never did get a pleasure pier and that today, would have lost its branch line in the Sixties. The setting became much-missed East Devon, home of my ancestors, two Victorian police constables among them.
The next point to decide on was the decade. I knew I didn’t want to venture into Sherlock Holmes territory, much as I love reading Doyle. The 1880s and 90s had such a flood of early technology and changing attitudes – widespread use of the telephone, bicycles, typewriters, women’s suffrage and so on – that in a way, the times felt too modern to appeal. The 1860s seemed to be a popular setting with historical crime authors so I went for the 1870s, which was fairly underused. I decided to stick to the first half of the decade so the detectives wouldn’t have the telephone.
I’ve always liked novels and dramas about the goings-on, plots, schemes and petty rivalries in small-town life. The secrets, large and small, in a place where its leading characters are known to everyone, at least by reputation. And for the middle-classes of Victorian Britain, reputation mattered. Without the safety-net of a welfare state, money and status was the hedge against going under. Fear would have been ever present. A return to Victorian Values, anyone?
The theme for A Seaside Mourning became murder and intrigue in a small community which is beginning to change. With apologies to Mrs Gaskell, a sort of Cranford with crime. Beneath the veneer of respectability, the townsfolk are gossiping over their tea cups and watching behind the Nottingham lace curtains.
As the title implies, the background to the story is the Victorian way of death, a subject that’s always fascinated me. No one truly mourns the first victim, despite all the macabre ritual of an elaborate funeral. Even Inspector Josiah Abbs is a widower, haunted by his wife’s death.
And after the murders, Seaborough, Inspector Abbs and Sergeant Ned Reeve, will never be quite the same again…
A Seaside Mourning was written as a stand-alone, then I had an idea for an Inspector Abbs novella, A Christmas Malice, set in Norfolk. This was still never intended to be a series as I went on to write a 1930s mystery and was de-railed by ill-health. Abbs and Reeve have never quite gone away, though. A new full-length mystery is under way. This one takes them to Scotland Yard and should be out in the summer of 2018.