The dining room was oak-panelled and had a huge mahogany table with eight chairs around it. To Dobbs it seemed more like a Tudor room than Victorian but maybe it had been specially designed and built for that appearance. Joanne had set herself at the head of the big table and placed him on her left, next to her. She served him clear chicken soup with pieces of meat and black beans. A crusty roll was on each side plate. Henry took a sip of his soup and pronounced it as absolutely delicious.
‘A Chinese delicacy,’ Joanne told him, smiling impishly, ‘although it wouldn’t be recognised in any Chinese restaurant in this country.’
‘No?’
‘This soup is very popular in China but unknown here. The British version is very much a different animal entirely.’
‘Nothing like I’ve ever tasted anywhere.
