Free Diamonds in the Dust by Kate Furnivall

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    DIAMONDS IN THE DUST
    A Berkley eSpecial / published by arrangement with the author
    Copyright © 2012 by Kate Furnivall
    Excerpt from
The White Pearl
copyright © 2012 by Kate Furnivall
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    PUBLISHING HISTORY
    Berkley eSpecial / March 2012
    ISBN: 978-1-101-56981-8

Darwin, Australia
    August 1942
    Hatti Hoot. What kind of fool name is that?
    Hatti Hoot glared down at her own signature. Each letter of it shot away in different directions as if trying to scuttle off the form in front of her. Sometimes she practiced other signatures, made up better names for herself, names that sounded elegant. Her favorite was Bette Hepburn. Real classy. It was Hatti’s theory that a good name goes a long way toward getting you a good life. Why else would so many film stars pull on shiny new names along with their shiny new smiles in front of the camera?
    Hatti Hoot. What kind of fool life was that gonna get her?
    She pushed the form across the counter to the woman on the other side, who glanced through it with a look on her face like she was sucking on a lime. Her mouth was tight and her eyes were narrow and sour.
    “Right, Mrs. Hoot.”
    “You’ll let me know if—”
    “Of course.” She said it snootily. Just because she was in uniform.
    That was the trouble with living in Darwin now. It was August 1942 and the damn war had come to Australia to stay. The town was fair busting at the seams with military uniforms, worse than the mosquitoes, and if you weren’t wearing one, well, you became invisible. Hatti stood nearly six feet tall in her stocking feet, weighed fourteen stone, was proud of her big fat curls that were brighter than a red roo’s pelt, and at thirty-nine years old she didn’t like being invisible.
    The woman sucking on the lime started to turn away. Job done.
    It had happened before and it would happen again; the usual indifference. But this time, for no good reason other than if you keep poking a mule with a stick it will one day kick back at you, Hatti gave the counter a wallop with her boot. It made the woman jump clear off the floor.
    “Now, look here!” Hatti yelled. “Captain or corporal or whatever the hell that stripe on your skinny little arm means,” she