Freya North - Pillow Talk
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Tanzanite is one of the world's most sought-after gemstones. In contrast to the horror and lawlessness in the trade of conflict or blood diamonds, protocols have been established to ensure that all tanzanite is traded through legitimate and transparent channels by licensed dealers. Tanzanite is the only gemstone to be given an official clean bill of health (at the International Gem Convention in Tucson, 2003). To champion tanzanite's heritage and safeguard its integrity, the Tanzanite Foundation was established as a non-profit, industry-supported organization.
The Tanzanite Foundation carefully monitors methods of practice and conduct and works to maintain the integrity of tanzanite's route-to-market while highlighting the importance of social consciousness and ethical methods of operation. Committed to making a real difference to the lives of the local community at tanzanite's source, the foundation funds social and economic upliftment. Initiatives are meaningful and sustainable and, to date, include a medi-clinic, a community centre, the Nasinyai Primary School and a new secondary school, infrastructural upgrades to the roads, the Small Mines Assistance Programme, and fresh water supply to 2000 villagers and 4500 head of cattle.
I am indebted to Alex Duxbury and Gabriella Endlin at the Tanzanite Foundation for letting me spend many an absorbing hour in their company, for providing me with fascinating research material and for allowing me sit in the cage surrounded by stunning tanzanites. Thank you so much.
From Hatton Garden to Runswick Bay, researching Pillow Talk was a real treat a true perk of my job. I'm so grateful to Dan and the staff at Bellore (39 Greville Street, London EC1N 8PJ, www.bellore.co.uk); also to Louise Fennell, Shaun Leane, Ana de Costa, Andrew Howe at Wright & Teague, Kate Reardon, Petra Bishai and her students at Kensington and Chelsea College thank you all for letting me natter and/or loiter.
Special thanks to Sam Barbic for so generously opening the door to her somnambulant world and allowing me to peep inside and poke around. Here's to a good night's sleep.
To Nigel and Jennifer Garton thank you for the loan of your names and your fantastic hospitality Up North.
When I was at school, the teachers often complained about my propensity for daydreaming. Nowadays, part of my job requires me to do just that! However, my words would be stuck in the clouds, or confined to my laptop at the very least, were it not for the expert collaboration of the skilled team supporting me.
My heartfelt gratitude to everyone at my publishers, HarperCollins particularly to Lynne Drew my brilliant editor and pal, Claire Bord and Victoria Hughes-Williams; to Amanda Ridout; to Lee Motley; to Damon Greeney, Karen Davies and Sylvia May; to Elspeth Dougall, Wendy Neale and Clive Kintoff; to Leisa Nugent and Lucy Upton; to Marie Goldie and the Glasgow crew.
However, were it not for my wise and wonderful agent, I'd be stuck for a publisher I am thus indebted to Jonathan Lloyd a.k.a J.Llo, at Curtis Brown Ltd, and to Alice Lutyens and Camilla Goslett who summon Mr Lloyd from Very Important Meetings and Very Long Lunches when I want to speak to him. Mary Chamberlain, my diligent copy-editor, and Sophie Ransom, my industrious publicist, complete Team North.
My thanks to all of you, for the support, the fun and the success.
To Haringey Library Services, particularly Susan, Hilary, Germaine and Lai-Ming, thank you for my magical space and those much appreciated cups of coffee.
Thank you, Jonny Zucker, for the Fabs and Minstrels and office goss.
Behind the scenes and after office hours, my warmest thanks to the Cohens, the Sutcliffes and Jerney de Vries. Also to the Earls Farm savvy club, especially Souki, Sue and Sarah.
Finally, to Jo and Luce and Kirsty and Sarah (again), to Kle and Jeanette and Cousin Kate and Melanie and Karen. When it comes to friendship, you are priceless gems and I love you.
www.cancerresearchuk.org (in memory of my beautiful friend Liz Berney, 1968-2005)
www.rhysdanielstrust.org
Sally
Chlo
Polly
Cat
Fen
Pip
Love Rules
Home Truths
Freya North gave up a PhD to write her first novel, Sally, in 1991. For four years she turned deaf ears to parents and friends who pleaded with her to get a proper job. She went on the dole and did a succession of freelance and temping jobs to support her writing days. In 1995, throwing caution to the wind, Freya sent three chapters and a page of completely fabricated reviews to a top literary agent, and met with success: five publishers entered a bidding war for her book. In 1996, Sally was published to great acclaim and Freya was heralded as a fresh voice in fiction. Her next books, Chlo, Polly, Cat, Fen, Pip, Love Rules and Home Truths have all been bestsellers. She lives in London with her family.
For more information on Freya North, visit her website at www.freyanorth.co.uk.
Visit www.AuthorTracker.co.uk for exclusive information on Freya North.
The first Wednesday in March was going to be a peculiar day for Petra Flint but it would take another seventeen years for her to consider how seminal it had been. Usually, school days were utterly dependable for their monotony, with daytime plotted and pieced into fifty-minute periods of quality education. The reputation of Dame Alexandra Johnson School for Girls and its high standing in the league tables was built on courteous, bright girls achieving fine exam results and entry into Oxbridge and the better Red Bricks. The school was sited in a residential street just off the Finchley Road, east of West Hampstead. It occupied four Victorian houses, somewhat haphazardly interconnected, whose period details sat surprisingly well with blackboards, Bunsen burners and the students' adventurous artwork. All members of staff were upright and eager, and it was as much the school's edict to impart a similar demeanour on the girls as to teach them the set curriculum. The headmistress, Miss Lorimar, was of indeterminate age, looked a little like an owl and could swoop down on misconduct or mess in an instant. She infused the girls and staff alike with a mixture of trepidation and respect. Ad vitam Paramus, she'd often proclaim, in morning assembly or just along the corridors, Ad vitam Paramus.
Petra liked school. Miss Lorimar had only ever had cause to bark praise at her. Petra wasn't staggeringly bright, nor was she tiresomely popular but in keeping a naturally quiet and amicable profile, she was well liked by her teachers and classmates. She liked school because it provided respite from home. On her fourteenth birthday last year, she had been summonsed to Miss Lorimar's office.
Sit.
Petra had sat. She had sat in silence glancing at Miss Lorimar who was reading a letter with great interest.
I see it is your birthday, the headmistress had announced, and I see you are having a rotten time at home. She brandished the piece of paper which Petra then recognized as coming from the pad of light blue Basildon Bond that was kept in the console drawer in the hallway at home. Your mother has disclosed the situation with your father. Petra's gaze fell to her lap where she saw her fists were tightly clenched. I shall circulate this information in the staff room, Miss Lorimar continued, as if referring to a case of nits. There was a pause during which Petra unfurled her fists and worried that her fingernails weren't regulation short. Miss Lorimar didn't seem interested in them. Happy birthday, she said, her bluntness at odds with the sentiment. There was another pause. When Miss Lorimar next spoke, the steely edge to her voice had been replaced with an unexpected softness. Let school be your daytime haven, Miss Flint, she said. You can be happy here. We will care for you.
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