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

That’s the new display, you know, to make up for losing the lollipop shoes. It’s a house, and at first I thought it was going to be a crèche, like in the Place du Tertre, with the Jesus-baby and the kings and all his family and friends. But actually it’s better than that. It’s a magical house in a fairy wood, just like in the story books. And every day there’s going to be a different scene opening up behind one of the doors. Today it’s the Pied Piper, and the story’s mostly outside the house, with sugar mice instead of rats in pink and white and green and blue, and the Piper made from a wooden clothes-peg, with painted red hair and a matchstick in his hand for a flute, piping all the sugar mice into a river made of silk . . .

And inside the house, there’s the Mayor of Hamelin, the one who wouldn’t pay the Piper, looking out of a bedroom window. He’s a peg-doll too, of course, with a nightgown made from a handkerchief and a paper nightcap on his head, and his face drawn on in felt-tip pen, with his mouth wide open in surprise.

And I don’t know why, but somehow the Pied Piper reminds me of Roux, with his red hair and shabby clothes, and the greedy old Mayor makes me think of Thierry, and I couldn’t help thinking that, like the Nativity in Place du Tertre, it wasn’t just a window display, that it had to mean something more—

‘I love it,’ I said.

‘I hoped you would.’

On the beanbag, Rosette made a sleepy little snuffling noise and reached for her blanket, which had fallen on the floor. Zozie found it and put it over her. She stopped for a moment to touch Rosette’s hair.

And then I had a weird thought. More than that – an inspiration. I guess it was the Advent house, but I was thinking about the Nativity, and the way everyone comes to the stable at once – the animals and the Magi and the shepherds and angels and the star – without anyone having to invite them or anything, as if they’d been summoned there by magic—

I almost told Zozie right then. But I needed time to sort myself out; to make sure I wasn’t about to do anything stupid. You see, I’d remembered something, too. Something that happened a long time ago, back in the days when we were still different. Something to do with Rosette, perhaps. Poor Rosette, who cried like a cat and who never seemed to feed at all, and sometimes stopped breathing without any reason, for seconds, even minutes at a time . . .

The baby. The crib. The animals—

The angels and the Magi—

What is a Magus, anyway? And why do I think I’ve met one before?

6

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Tuesday, 4th December