‘Don’t! Don’t!’ she shouted, stamping her foot.

Albert looked at her, amazed. ‘What happened?’

‘Don’t call me special!’ she said, repeating the footwork.

He looked at her, puzzled. ‘What is it, Theo?’

‘Well, I’m sick an’ tired of everyone callin’ me special!’ she said. ‘My whole life they’ve been doin’ it, an’ I don’ feel special an’ I’m jus’ sick of it!’

‘What? Who?’

‘Everyone! Father, my grandad, everyone! And now you’ve started too!’

‘Well, I won’t call you that again if it bothers you so much, but why does it?’

‘Because I don’ feel special!’ She looked up at him, her little face wrinkled up earnestly. ‘It’s why I put on this accent, y’know? To be like everyone else. ’Cos it’s not how I usually—usually …’

‘Yes, I’ve noticed it slip,’ said Albert. ‘I wondered why. But tell me, Theo, is it that important to not stand out?’

‘Yes, when everyone thinks you’re gonna do something—something awesome—but you know you’re not, that you’re just ordinary, like anyone else, and that you’re just going to disappoint them! ’Cos you know that, much as you’d like to be, and want to help everyone, it’s not going to happen, that you’re not special at all, it’s just a mistake, that’s all! That’s why I ran away.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I heard them talkin’. Father an’ Ucho an’ Castor talkin’ about how I was special an’ the key, jus’ like my grandad used to say, an’ I really don’ feel like I am. So I ran away, ’cos I thought mebbe I’d figure out why I was special, see, and then I could come back, an’ do whatever it is they wanted me to.’

‘That was very brave of you.’

She shook her head. ‘Not really. ’Cos I got scared, so I talked some kids I met into coming with me, told ’em we’d all find a way to be special an’ then come back.’

‘So, you’re not only brave, you’re a leader!’

‘Yeah, whatever.’

He looked at her—all small and dark and fierce and sincere—and he felt his lip quiver. ‘Oh, Theo,’ he said. ‘But you are special, in so many ways, and not just as some silly key or anything. You’re different from anybody I’ve ever met, and that makes you special in my book.’

‘You mean it?’ she said shyly, her face glowing with pleasure.

‘Of course I do. And what’s more, I know why you’re special even if you don’t. You’re smart and brave and funny, more than many grown-ups I know—you think that doesn’t make you special?’

‘P’raps,’ she said nonchalantly, but he could see her eyes gleaming. ‘What else?’