Samuel stood before her, cleared his throat, and without stumbling once said, “Hi, I was wondering if you’d allow me the pleasure of buying you a pie, and perhaps a glass of orange juice, at Pete’s emporium of pies on the main street?”

He waited for a reply, but none came. He squinted harder, trying to bring Lucy into focus. Was she overcome with emotion? Was she gaping in awe at him? Even now, was a single tear of happiness dropping from her eye like a diamond as the little tweety birds—

“Did you just ask that letter box on a date?” said someone close by. Samuel recognized the voice as that of Thomas Hobbes, his best friend.

“What?” Samuel fumbled for his glasses, put them on, and found that he had somehow wandered in the wrong direction. He’d stepped out of the school gates and onto the street where he had, it seemed, just offered to buy a pie for the red letter box and, by extension, the postman who was about to empty it. The postman was now regarding Samuel with the kind of wariness associated with one who suspects that the person standing before him may well be something of a nutter, and could turn dangerous at any time.

“It doesn’t eat pies,” said the postman slowly. “Only letters.”

“Right,” said Samuel. “I knew that.”

“Good,” said the postman, still speaking very slowly.

“Why are you speaking so slowly?” said Samuel, who found that he had now started speaking slowly as well.

“Because you’re mad,” said the postman, even more slowly.

“Oh,” said Samuel.

“And the letter box can’t come with you to the pie shop. It has to stay where it is. Because it’s a letter box.”

He patted the letter box gently, and smiled at Samuel as if to say, “See, it’s not a person, it’s a box, so go away, mad bloke.”

“I’ll look after him,” said Tom. He began to guide Samuel back to the school. “Let’s get you inside the gates, shall we? You can have a nice lie-down.”

The students near the gates were watching Samuel. Some were sniggering.

See, it’s that Johnson kid. I told you he was strange.

At least Lucy wasn’t among them, thought Samuel. She had apparently moved off to spread her fragrant loveliness elsewhere.

“If it’s not a rude question, why were you offering to buy a pie for a letter box?” said Tom as they made their way into the depths of the playground.

“I thought it was Lucy Highmore,” said Samuel.

“Lucy Highmore doesn’t look like a letter box, and I don’t think she’d be very happy if she heard that you thought she did.”

“It was the red coat. I got confused.”

“She’s a bit out of your league, isn’t she?” said Tom.