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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

Well, that depended on my mother’s mood. In one version, the mother survives, and she and the child live alone for ever in their cottage in the wood. On darker days, the mother dies, and the child is left alone in her grief. And there is a third version, where the impostor, in a final twist, foresees the mother’s broken heart and collapses herself, thus prompting a vow of eternal love from the child while the real mother stands by, unable to speak, discarded and powerless as the witch begins to feed—

I never told Anouk that tale. It frightened me then as it frightens me now. In stories we find the truth, and though no one outside of a fairytale ever died of a broken heart, the Queen of Hearts is very real, though she does not always go by that name.

But we’ve faced her before, Anouk and I. She’s the wind that blows at the turn of the year. She’s the sound of one hand clapping. She’s the lump in your mother’s breast. She’s the absent look in your daughter’s eyes. She’s the cry of the cat. She’s in the confessional. She’s hiding inside the black piñata. But most of all she is simply Death; greedy old Mictecacihuatl herself, Santa Muerte, the Eater of Hearts, most terrible of the Kindly Ones—

And now it’s time to face her again. To pick up my weapons – such as they are – and to stand and fight for the life we have made. But for that I need to be Vianne Rocher, if ever I can find her again. The Vianne Rocher who faced down the Black Man at the Grand Festival du Chocolat. The Vianne Rocher who knows everyone’s favourites. The peddler of sweet dreams, small temptations, treats, trinkets, tricks, petty indulgences and everyday magic—

If only I can find her in time.

8

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Saturday, 22nd December

IT MUST HAVE snowed during the night. Just a thin scattering for now, turning to grey slush nearly at once. Still, it’s a start. There’ll be more soon. You can already see it in the clouds; clouds so heavy and dark below the Butte that they’re practically touching the church spires. Clouds only look lighter than air; but actually the water in just one of those clouds could weigh millions of tonnes, Jean-Loup says; that’s a whole multi-storey full of cars parked up there, just waiting to fall, today or tomorrow, in tiny little flakes of snow.