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In a café in Bakkum, a handsome lad served us coffee. Anna had taken her jacket off and he looked at her jersey.

‘Suits you,’ he said.

‘Thank you,’ she said, and gave him a heavenly smile.

‘Bottoms suit you too.’ She waved him away with a casual gesture.

I drank a mouthful of coffee and looked at her. ‘Strange things are happening, Anna,’ I said.

‘Very strange things are happening. In America, a panther walked into a house on a new estate and fell asleep on the sofa. I read it this morning on…’

‘With me. With my life.’

‘Oh. What kind of strange things?’

‘Well, first I see my old friend André in court.’

‘Is he a judge?’

‘No.’

‘A lawyer?’

‘No, he’s a criminal.’

‘Christ. And is he your friend? Will he have to go to jail?’

‘No, acquitted due to lack of evidence.’

‘Lucky. For him, that is. And what else, in the way of odd things?’

‘A little later I read that my friend Joost has been nominated for the Spinoza Prize.’

‘What does he do?’

‘He’s a brilliant physicist. At least that was what the paper said.’