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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

The chimes ring again, and it’s Laurent Pinson, all shiny shoes and with fresh shaving-marks on his face, then Richard and Mathurin, Jean-Louis and Paupaul – Jean-Louis wearing the most garish yellow waistcoat I have ever seen – then Madame Pinot, who has come as a nun, then that anxious-looking lady who gave Rosette the doll (invited by Zozie, I think), and suddenly we are a jamboree of people, drinks, laughter, canapés and sweets, and I watch with one eye to the kitchen while Anouk plays hostess in my place and Alice nibbles a mendiant, and Laurent takes a handful of almonds and puts them in his pocket for later, and Nico calls again for Zozie, and I wonder when she will make her move—

Tak-tak-tak come her shoes down the stairs.

‘So sorry I’m late,’ she says, and smiles, and for a moment there’s an ebb; a silence as she enters the room, all fresh and glowing in her red dress, and now we can all see that she has cut her hair to shoulder-length, exactly like mine, tucked back behind her ears, like mine, with my straight fringe and that little kick at the back that nothing ever seems to tame—

Madame hugs Zozie as she comes down. I must find out her name, I think, although for the moment I cannot take my eyes from Zozie, who now moves into the centre of the room, to laughter and applause from the guests.

‘So who have you come as?’ says Anouk.

But it is to me that Zozie speaks, with that knowing smile that only I see.

‘Well, Yanne, isn’t this fun? Can’t you see? I’ve come as you.’

7

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Monday, 24th December
Christmas Eve. 8.30 p.m.

WELL, YOU KNOW, there’s no pleasing some people. But wasn’t it worth it just for the look on her face, that sudden, sorry, stricken pallor, the tremor that goes through her body as she sees herself coming down the stairs—

I have to say it’s a good job. Dress, hair, jewellery, everything but her shoes, all reproduced to eerie perfection and worn with just that hint of a smile . . .

‘Hey, it’s like you’re twins, or something,’ says Fat Nico with childish delight as he helps himself to more macaroons. Laurent twitches nervously, as if caught out in some private fantasy. Of course people can still tell us apart – you can do so much with glamours, but outright transformation is the stuff of fairytale – and yet it is uncanny, how easily I take to the role.