The novel by the Frisian woman author was on the table. On a shelf, Chinese knickknacks had been arranged: porcelain rice bowls, plastic soup spoons, stacked together. On another shelf, a foot-long model of a Chinese junk sailed toward a smiling fat god, with happily grinning toddlers climbing up his belly and shoulders. De Gier remembered the calendar in the neatly painted bathroom, with a dozen color photographs of places to see in Singapore.

A holiday in Singapore? Why not? An elderly adjutant of the Leeuwarden Municipal Police who, once in his life, takes his wife to the other side of the earth. Probably a special offer by the local travel agency, there and back for a couple of thousand, hotel included. By now the mortgage would be paid, the children married. "Dear, we'll be off!"

"Where to?" Mrs. Oppenhuyzen asks, not too sure whether she should be pleased.

The adjutant's eyes twinkle. 'To Singapore!"

She would rather have spent another holiday on one of the islands just off the Frisian coast, but if he really wants to surprise her, okay. She smiles. "Great!"

A subject that can be discussed on many an occasion, during birthday parties or while visiting neighbors. "You went to the Italian coast? That's nice. Yes, we were out of the country too. Where? Oh, we hopped over to Singapore." Detailed descriptions of assorted adventures. "You know, when we were in Singapore last month…"

"When I was in Friesland…" De Gier picked up the novel and flopped down on the couch. Then he was up again to look for the dictionary. She brushed her tosksl Is that what they call teeth? And mt amp;e would be 'mouth.' What a primitive way to describe a woman's intimate bathroom occupation. He tried to lose the image of a ghoulish shape poking between her fangs. It would be better to read on, and try to fit what he would later understand into the material he was now digesting.