off the driver’s compartment. The man’s mitre cap was visible as a smoky shape on the far side. Hands moved on the steering wheel. Aranan knew little of his chauffeur beyond this shadow play, and yet he often confided in him. The screen offered a form of anonymity, like the confessional in a cathedrum. ‘When I was younger I used to have so much fun. Not any more,’ Aranan said. ‘No fun for me.’ He tapped the window to emphasise his words.