“Yes, sillikins,” said Lucy, and Samuel just prayed that she wouldn’t pat his arm again. He still couldn’t feel his fingers. “But they wear them for a different reason. Hats on pretty people make them look prettier! Everything looks prettier on pretty people. It’s a law.”

“Right,” said Samuel. If you followed that statement to its logical conclusion, then Samuel’s glasses should have made him look prettier—er, more handsome—but only if he was pretty—er, handsome—to begin with. But if they didn’t make him look more handsome—there, got it right the third time—did that mean he wasn’t handsome at all? Samuel sort of guessed that he wasn’t, but he was hopeful that the situation might change as he got older. The fact that Lucy Highmore had agreed to go out with him had fueled that hope.

In a way, both Lucy and Samuel had made two versions of the same mistake. Lucy had agreed to go out with Samuel because, despite what some of the folk in Biddlecombe might have thought or said, he was a kind of hero. He had faced down the hordes of Hell. He had fought demons. He might have been visually challenged, and distinctly awkward, and so attached to his dog that it accompanied him on dates, but he still wasn’t like most of the other ordinary boys in Biddlecombe, and Lucy Highmore felt less ordinary for being with him. It was the same reason that she always made sure her hair was perfect before leaving the house, and always wore the prettiest and most fashionable clothes, and always surrounded herself with people who were slightly less pretty and perfect than she was. She did it because, deep inside, she suspected that she wasn’t as interesting, or clever, or even as pretty as she liked to believe, but if she acted like she was, and shielded herself with boys and girls who were even more insecure, she might just convince everyone that she was better than they were. If she tried really, really hard, she might even convince herself.

But the main reason that Lucy had agreed to go out with Samuel was because Maria Mayer, one of Samuel’s closest friends, was more than a little in love with him. Everyone knew this—everyone, that is, except Samuel, who was a bit thick when it came to girls. If Maria wanted Samuel, thought Lucy, then there must be something there worth having, even if Lucy wasn’t entirely sure what that was.

And Samuel? Well, Samuel had always been happy with himself. I don’t mean that he was smug, or self-satisfied. He knew he was awkward, and didn’t see very well without his glasses, and that, in his case, his best friend really was his dog, but he didn’t mind. He got on well with his mum, and with his dad, most of the time, even if his dad now lived in Norwich with a lady called Esther who wore so much makeup that, when she smiled or frowned, or even when she spoke, cracks appeared in her face and cosmetics avalanched to the floor. She had kissed Samuel the first time that they met, and the left side of his face had turned brown.