‘We could use another three kidneys a month, certainly, if the current situation is anything to go by but, naturally, we would like a flexible arrangement which would allow us to use more or less than this according to patient demand.’

‘That could be arranged.’

‘What I do need, Mr Tan, is assurance that the kidneys are in perfect health and that they will arrive in good condition. We have important clients and for the continued success of our practice we cannot afford to use substandard material.’ He hoped that did not sound too industrial.

‘You need have no worries on that account, Dr Wilson. Our kidneys are all from healthy people.’ He hesitated. ‘Well, people who were healthy before they were…before they gave their kidneys up for transplantation.’

Gary was warming to his role. ‘We do try to keep up our standards of surgery, Mr Tan, and I cannot state too strongly the need for reliable tissue.’

‘Of course.’

‘Which just leaves us with the subject of cost.’

At this point the waitress came with the tea tray. Gary wished she had not. He was just getting into his stride.

‘Ah, tea. A great British institution is it not, Dr Wilson?’

Gary muttered to the affirmative.

‘And a great Chinese institution, too,’ confirmed Mr Tan.

The waitress took what seemed to be an inordinate length of time setting out the cups and saucers, the milk jug and sugar basin, the plate of scones and the jam and the cream. By the time she was laying their butter knives neatly on the side of the plates Gary had almost reached breaking point. But he took a deep breath and said nothing. The waitress departed and Mr Tan rubbed his hands together. ‘Shall I be mother?’ he said, smiling broadly. The gold crown glinted in the light from the chandelier as he began rearranging the cups.

Gary tried again. ‘So, as I was saying, Mr Tan, we just have to sort out the financial arrangements.’

‘Yes. Yes, of course. But first the tea.’

Mr Tan bowed gently, then silently set to work. First he poured a little of the tea into a cup. The he emptied the contents of that cup into a small bowl the waitress had provided. The he poured the tea into two more cups, bowed again at Gary and pushed one of the cups towards him. His next question was not one normally associated with the Chinese tea ceremony.

‘Would you like a scone?’

‘No. No thank you.’

‘They really are very good, Dr Wilson. The Savoy Hotel makes a very good scone.’

For the sake of appeasing Mr Tan, Gary took a scone, wondering when, if ever, this elaborate ceremony would end.

‘Help yourself to cream and jam.’

‘Thank you.’ Gary tried to look interested in the scone, and spooned on the strawberry jam and then the cream.