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Back The Shoe Queen Save as PDF
Chapters (67)
  1. Cover
  2. “And may I say, those shoes are adorable.”
  3. Title Page
  4. Copyright
  5. Dedication
  6. ( I )
  7. ( one )
  8. ( two )
  9. ( three )
  10. ( four )
  11. ( five )
  12. ( six )
  13. ( seven )
  14. ( eight )
  15. ( nine )
  16. ( ten )
  17. ( II )
  18. ( eleven )
  19. ( twelve )
  20. ( thirteen )
  21. ( fourteen )
  22. ( fifteen )
  23. ( III )
  24. ( sixteen )
  25. ( seventeen )
  26. ( eighteen )
  27. ( nineteen )
  28. ( IV )
  29. ( twenty )
  30. ( twenty-one )
  31. ( twenty-two )
  32. ( twenty-three )
  33. ( twenty-four )
  34. ( V )
  35. ( twenty-five )
  36. ( twenty-six )
  37. ( twenty-seven )
  38. ( twenty-eight )
  39. ( twenty-nine )
  40. VI
  41. ( thirty )
  42. ( thirty-one )
  43. ( thirty-two )
  44. ( thirty-three )
  45. ( thirty-four )
  46. ( VII )
  47. ( thirty-five )
  48. ( thirty-six )
  49. ( thirty-seven )
  50. ( thirty-eight )
  51. ( thirty-nine )
  52. ( forty )
  53. ( forty-one )
  54. ( forty-two )
  55. ( VIII )
  56. ( forty-three )
  57. ( forty-four )
  58. ( forty-five )
  59. ( forty-six )
  60. ( forty-seven )
  61. ( forty-eight )
  62. ( forty-nine )
  63. ( fifty )
  64. ( fifty-one )
  65. Acknowledgments
  66. Acknowledgments
  67. Questions for Discussion

GENEVIEVE WALKED ALL THE way to the Luxembourg Gardens in a pair of satin dancing slippers—pale turquoise, decorated with a rose in cream silk, and cream silk ribbons. The slippers were soft and insubstantial. She could almost have been walking on bare feet, and this added to her sense of her own vulnerability.

She walked so she could think. But the city was loud and alarming today. Cars, lorries, and horse-drawn carts lurched out at her from every direction, determined to mow her down. Her sun hat had a very wide brim under which she could hide her eyes, but it partly obscured her vision. On the Boulevard Saint-Germain, a waiter leered at her from the doorway of a café, causing her to change direction so suddenly that she almost walked into a chestnut seller. Backing away from his stream of abuse, she stepped off the pavement into the path of a bicycle. The cyclist swerved sharply and bellowed something unintelligible at her as he rode on and away.

It was a relief to enter the gardens of the Palais du Luxembourg—to pass through the gate and along a cool, shady avenue, edged with geometrically perfect trees. All was carefully designed and excellently maintained, from the manicured lawns to the formal flower gardens blooming with the red, white and blue of the tricolor. Nothing here was allowed to be wild or unruly or tempestuous.

It wasn’t until she arrived at the Fontaine de Médicis that Genevieve started to question herself as to what she was doing here. She had come because she couldn’t bear to be at home in the apartment, sitting about while Céline dusted and polished, and reflecting on the way the night had ended: on her fear of Monteray, her anger at Lulu and at Betterson, her dread of Robert’s touch. She had come because she wanted to be here in the gardens, where Nature was tamed, molded, shaped, controlled. She had come because she wanted to see Zachari again.

But there was no sign of him.

A little way off, two old men were sitting playing chess, intent on their game. Two babies in perambulators were being pushed along the gravel path by their gossiping nannies. In the distance, under the spreading branches of a horse chestnut tree, a game of pétanque was in progress. Parisian park life—slow and considered—was flowing all around her.

Ten minutes passed while Genevieve became increasingly angry with herself. I shouldn’t be here. Seeing Zachari is only going to make everything worse. How can this possibly end well? But she craved his presence. She couldn’t bring herself to turn around and go home.