BooksBarbecue
Back The Lollipop Shoes
Chapters (96)
  1. Cover
  2. About the Book
  3. The Lollipop Shoes
  4. Dedication
  5. ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
  6. PART ONE
  7. 1
  8. 2
  9. 3
  10. 4
  11. 5
  12. PART TWO
  13. 1
  14. 2
  15. 3
  16. 4
  17. 5
  18. 6
  19. 7
  20. 8
  21. PART THREE
  22. 1
  23. 2
  24. 3
  25. 4
  26. 5
  27. 6
  28. PART FOUR
  29. 1
  30. 2
  31. 3
  32. 4
  33. 5
  34. 6
  35. 7
  36. 8
  37. 9
  38. PART FIVE
  39. 1
  40. 2
  41. 3
  42. 4
  43. 5
  44. 6
  45. 7
  46. 8
  47. 9
  48. 10
  49. 11
  50. 12
  51. PART SIX
  52. 1
  53. 2
  54. 3
  55. 4
  56. 5
  57. 6
  58. 7
  59. 8
  60. 9
  61. 10
  62. 11
  63. 12
  64. PART SEVEN
  65. 1
  66. 2
  67. 3
  68. 4
  69. 5
  70. 6
  71. 7
  72. 8
  73. 9
  74. PART EIGHT
  75. 1
  76. 2
  77. 3
  78. 4
  79. 5
  80. 6
  81. 7
  82. 8
  83. 9
  84. 10
  85. 11
  86. 12
  87. 13
  88. 14
  89. 15
  90. 16
  91. 17
  92. 18
  93. 19
  94. Epilogue
  95. About the Author
  96. Also by Joanne Harris

In fact, it was five. Alice needs time. She stares at Nico fearfully. He’s a giant beside her – a hungry giant – but Nico has become unexpectedly mute. He bridles – all three hundred pounds of him – and a flush creeps over his broad face.

‘Nico, meet Alice.’

She whispers hello.

It’s the easiest thing in the world to do. With the fingernail, to scratch a sign along the satin of the chocolate-box. It might be anything – an accident – but then again it might be the beginning of something: a turn in the road; a path into another life—

All change.

Once more she whispers something. Looks down at her boots – and sees the box of macaroons.

‘I love ’em,’ says Nico. ‘Try one with me?’

Alice begins to shake her head. But he looks nice, she tells herself. There’s something about him, in spite of his bulk; something reassuringly childish, almost vulnerable. And there’s something about his eyes, she thinks; something about him that makes her feel that maybe – just maybe – he understands.

‘Just one,’ he says.

And the symbol scratched on the lid of the box begins to gleam with a pale light – it’s Rabbit Moon, for love and fertility – and instead of her usual plain chocolate square, Alice shyly accepts a cup of frothy mocha, with a macaroon to accompany it, and they leave at the same time (if not quite together), she with her small box, he with his large one, into the November rain.

And as I watch, Nico opens a red umbrella of giant proportions bearing the legend Merde, il pleut! and holds it over little Alice. The sound of her laughter is distant and bright, like something remembered rather than heard. And I watch them down the cobbled road, she skipping in the puddles with her giant boots, he solemnly holding that absurd umbrella over them both, like a cartoon bear and an ugly duckling in some fractured fairytale, on their way to a great adventure.

4

image Missing

Thursday, 22nd November

THREE MISSED CALLS from Thierry’s phone, and a photograph of the Natural History Museum with a text message reading: Cave Woman! Turn on Ur fone! It made me laugh, but not quite easily; I don’t share Thierry’s passion for all things technical, and after trying unsuccessfully to text him back, I hid the phone in the kitchen drawer.

Later, he rang. It seems he’s not going to be able to get back this weekend, although he promises he will next week. In a way, I’m a little relieved. It gives me time to get things in order; to prepare my stock; to become accustomed to this new shop of mine, its habits and its customers.

Nico and Alice were back today. Alice bought a small box of chocolate fudge squares – a very small box, but she ate them herself – and Nico, a kilo of macaroons.