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

For a moment Thierry looked puzzled. Then realization began to set in. His face darkened; his eyes went from Roux to Rosette, from Rosette to Roux. The truth is undeniable; Rosette’s face may be less angular, her hair a lighter shade of red, but she has his eyes, and his satirical mouth, and at that moment there could be no mistake—

Thierry turned on his polished heel, a crisp manoeuvre slightly marred by the fact that he struck the table with his hip, sending a champagne glass to smash to the floor, scattering across the tiles in an explosion of fake diamonds. But when Madame Luzeron picked it up—

‘Hey, that’s lucky,’ said Nico. ‘I could have sworn I heard it go—’

Madame gave me a curious look.

‘Just lucky, I guess.’

Just like the blue glass dish again, the Murano dish I dropped that day, but now I’m not afraid any more. I just looked at Rosette in her father’s arms, and what I felt was not dismay, or fear, or anxiety, but an overwhelming sense of pride—

‘Well, you’d better enjoy it while you can.’ Thierry was standing by the door, massive in his red suit. ‘Because as of now, I’m giving you notice. A quarter’s notice, as per our deal, after which I’m closing you down.’ He eyed me with malign good cheer. ‘What, did you think you were going to stay, after everything that’s happened here? I own this place, in case you’d forgotten, and I’ve got plans that don’t include you. Have fun with your little chocolate shop. You’ll all be gone by Easter.’

Well, that’s not the first time someone’s said that. As the door slammed behind him I felt, not fear, but another astonishing lurch of pride. The worst had happened, and we had survived. The changing wind had won again, but this time I felt no sense of defeat. Instead I felt delirious; ready to face down the Furies themselves—

And then I had a terrible thought. I stood up abruptly, scanned the room. Conversation was starting again, slowly at first, but gaining momentum. Madame Luzeron poured champagne. Nico began to talk to Michèle. Paupaul was flirting with Madame Pinot. From what I could hear, the general consensus was that Thierry was drunk, that all of his threats were empty talk, that by next week it would all be forgotten, because the chocolaterie was a part of Montmartre, and could no more disappear than Le P’tit Pinson—

But someone was missing. Zozie was gone.

Nor was there any sign of Anouk.

14

image Missing

Monday, 24th December
Christmas Eve. 11.15 p.m.