Freya North - Pillow Talk

Pillow Talk

HarperCollins Publishers

1 London Bridge Street

London SE1 9GF

www.harpercollins.co.uk

This edition 2008

First published in Great Britain by HarperCollins 2007

Copyright © Freya North 2007

From 100 Love Sonnets: Cien Sonetos de Amor by Pablo Neruda, translated by Stephen Tapscott, Copyright © Pablo Neruda 1959 and Fundacion Pablo Neruda, Copyright © 1986 by the University of Texas Press. By permission of the University of Texas Press.

Freya North asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work

A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

Source ISBN: 9780007245925

Ebook Edition © OCTOBER 2015 ISBN: 9780007325795

Version: 2015-10-13

HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication .

Praise for Love Rules :

‘Freya North has matured to produce an emotive novel that deals with the darker side of love – these are real women, with real feelings.’

She

‘Tantrums, tarts, tears and text-sex … what’s not to love about this cautionary tale for true romantics?’

Heat

‘A distinctive storytelling style and credible, lovable characters … an addictive read that encompasses the stuff life is made of: love, sex, fidelity and, above all, friendship.’

Glamour

‘Plenty that’s fresh to say about the age-old differences between men and women.’

Marie Claire

‘An intelligent tale of chance encounters, long-lasting friendship and what it’s like to fall in and out of love.’

B Magazine

Praise for Home Truths :

‘An eye-poppingly sexy start leads into a family reunion laced with secrets. Tangled mother/daughter relationships unravel and tantalising family riddles keep you glued to the end.’

Cosmopolitan

‘An engrossing emotional drama that’s sure to feature on bestseller lists.’

Eve

‘You’ll laugh, cry, then laugh some more.’

Company

‘Freya North manages to strike a good balance between drama, comedy and romance, and has penned another winner in Home Truths … touching, enjoyable.’

Heat

In loving memory of my grandmothers,

Grandma Rennie and Grandma Net.

Never far from my thoughts

and always in my heart.

By night, Love, tie your heart to mine, and the two together in their sleep will defeat the darkness

Pablo Neruda Love Sonnet LXXIX

Cover

Title Page

Copyright

Praise

Dedication

Epigraph

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty-one

Chapter Twenty-two

Chapter Twenty-three

Chapter Twenty-four

Chapter Twenty-five

Chapter Twenty-six

Chapter Twenty-seven

Chapter Twenty-eight

Chapter Twenty-nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty-one

Chapter Thirty-two

Chapter Thirty-three

Chapter Thirty-four

Chapter Thirty-five

Chapter Thirty-six

Chapter Thirty-seven

Chapter Thirty-eight

Chapter Thirty-nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty-one

Chapter Forty-two

Chapter Forty-three

Chapter Forty-four

Chapter Forty-five

Chapter Forty-six

Chapter Forty-seven

Chapter Forty-eight

Chapter Forty-nine

Chapter Fifty

Chapter Fifty-one

Chapter Fifty-two

Chapter Fifty-three

Chapter Fifty-four

Epilogue

Keep Reading

Author’s note and Acknowledgements

About the Author

Also by Freya North

About the Publisher

Something isn’t quite right – I have a hunch about this. But I think I’ll just tuck it into the back of my mind while I tuck my feet into my wellington boots. Now I’ll open my front door and step out into the night.

I’m ready. Where is it I’m meant to be going? I can’t quite remember. It’ll come back to me in a moment. I’ll just put one foot in front of the other and trust myself. I am turning left. If I am automatically taking this direction to Wherever, this must mean it is the right way to go.

Now where am I? I’m glad I’m wearing my gumboots. That was a good idea. I had to rummage for them as I can’t remember when I last wore them. I can’t remember when I last had a weekend away from the city. No one has ever whisked me away. Not that I’ve ever asked – that wouldn’t be me. That’s not to say I haven’t daydreamed of it, though.

But enough of this mental meandering, I must walk on. This way. That way. I don’t feel very comfortable. I’m rather cold and my feet feel – strange.

I’m hoping for the landmark to loom, to say to me that I’ve arrived at my destination. I know metaphysics would say that it’s not the arriving but the journey that’s the point – but I’m going to have to have a sit-down and a rethink if I don’t get there soon. Perhaps I’ve gone the wrong way. I don’t want to admit to myself that I don’t really know the route because that would call into question the destination which, actually, I can’t remember at all. Well, I’ll keep on walking this way. My feet are really sore. I’d love a bar of chocolate. I’m quite tired now. Sleepy, in fact. Something will jog my memory.

It was not Petra Flint’s memory that was jogged. It was her slumber. By the police. She woke with a start and in a panic; for a split second she thought she was blind. Actually it was very dark and she was lying face down on the ground. Earthy, itchy ground, and wet.

‘Are you OK?’

Petra lifted her head a little and glanced up: two police officers were looming over her. The sudden beam from a torch scorched her eye so she dropped her gaze and put her face back to the ground. She was wearing her nightshirt and her wellington boots, which were on the wrong feet, and she felt mortified. She also felt alarmingly cold. She spat. There was a tickle of grass and a crunch of soil in her mouth. The torch beam wavered. Shit. The police. She scrambled up, whacked by nausea as she did so. Disorientated, she still sensed an urgency to explain because it couldn’t look good, to the police, that she’d been found sprawled on the ground in an oversized Snoopy T-shirt and wellies.