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

I stared at her, speechless now with indignation. Does the Pied Piper steal children for love? Does the Big Bad Wolf seduce Red Riding Hood out of a misguided need for company? I’m the Eater of Hearts, you stupid child; I’m the Fear of Death; I’m the Wicked Witch; I’m the grimmest of all fairytales, and don’t you dare feel sorry for me—

I pushed her away. She wouldn’t leave. She reached out for my hand again, and suddenly, don’t ask me why, I began to feel afraid—

Call it a warning, if you like. Call it an attack brought on by excitement, champagne and too much pulque. But suddenly I was cold with sweat; my chest was tight; my breath came in gasps. Pulque is an unpredictable brew; it brings a heightened awareness to some; visions that may be intense, but may also drift into delirium, pushing the drinker to perform rash acts; to reveal perhaps more of themselves than is entirely safe for one such as myself.

And now I understood the truth: that in my eagerness to collect this child I’d somehow slipped; I’d shown my true face, and the sudden intimacy of it was unsettling, unspeakable, tearing at me like a hungry dog.

‘Let go of me!’

Anouk just smiled.

And now true panic swept through me, and I pushed at her with all my strength. She slipped and fell backwards into the snow, and even then I could feel her reaching for me with that look of pity in her eyes—

There are times when even the best of us has to decide to cut and run. There will be others, I tell myself; new cities, new challenges, new gifts. But no one will be collected today.

Least of all, myself.

I run, almost blindly through the snow, slipping on the cobblestones, reckless in my haste to escape, losing myself on the wind from the Butte that rises like a whisper of black smoke over Paris, on its way to who knows where—

18

image Missing

Monday, 24th December
Christmas Eve. 11.35 p.m.

I MADE A pot of chocolate. It’s what I do in times of stress; and the strange little scene outside the shop had shaken more than one of us. It must have been the light, said Nico; that weird light you get with snow; or too much wine, or something we ate—

I let him believe it. The others, too, as I led Anouk shivering into the warmth of the shop and poured hot chocolate into her mug.

‘Be careful, Nanou,’ I said. ‘It’s hot.’