The long case clock struck 7:30 as they walked him out into the hall. Outside, leaning against a war-zone Citroën, was an unshaven minicabber. The sounds from his two-way radio bounced around the cul-de-sac.

“Motor ordered for half-past. You . . . er.” He peered at a scrap of paper, “. . . a Stud?”

Zeno grinned at Prudence, and Zen ran indoors.

“Well, yeah, that’s me.” He turned to look at his wife. Her face in the direct sunlight looked worn. If it hadn’t been for the regular dyeing, her hair would probably be quite grey. In spite of all his nutritional devices, Time was leaving its footprint. “See you later, then,” he said.

“Sorry about the shirt, Zeno.”

“My fault—should have given you more notice.”

She blinked a couple of times, went in and closed the door. As Zeno turned to go down the steps, there was a knock from inside. He pushed open the letterbox, and little fingers pushed through a square of thin silk, which he put in his pocket. Amid squeals of laughter, Zen said, “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t.”

The minicab took some time to swing into High Street Ken from Victoria Road, so Zeno knew the weekend crowd had joined the daily commuters. If you can’t do anything about it, don’t worry about it, he said to himself as he relaxed in the back. The driver had a tattoo—a blue line around his neck, with the letters CUT HERE. But his choice of radio station was interesting—it sounded like Radio Four.

“Observers of the astrological sky will know that tonight brings the beginning of a most unusual configuration. The great planet Pluto, ruler of the subconscious, tonight makes a very close aspect with Venus and Uranus. And this occurs on the occasion of the longest day, when the sun is nearest in orbit and marked by a beautiful full moon. Everyone must have been feeling the unusual emanations today, and tonight Water and Earth natives may be swept away by a tidal wave of long dammed-up passions. If abroad tonight, life preservers will be in order.”

Zeno recognised the tell-tale tremor in the broadcaster’s voice as he deviated from his script with a daring ad lib.

“Adepts will surely know that the esoteric name of Pluto is Minerva, symbolising the wisdom of seeing things as they really are. During this . . .”

The cab driver had spun the car around, and was going to take his chances through the park. They had caught a red light at the Exhibition Road entrance, and Zeno was absentmindedly gazing out of the window when a bus drew up alongside and a child sitting in the front seat disturbed Zeno’s reverie by pulling a length of folded-up paper straw from his nostril.

“. . . brief period, the Venus aspect can provide an opportunity for revelation, the moon triggering this process. More directly, you can either drown in your emotions or plumb the secrets of your own depths. Either way, it is safe to say that many of you out there will never be quite the same again. In the language of the ageless wisdom. . .”