To be honest I was a little surprised. Dr Grump is notoriously mean with her chocolate; she buys it on special order from a specialist Columbian supplier on the internet.
I chose the largest piece and slipped it into my mouth whole; I am a gobbler rather than a nibbler. I didn't chew. I just let the block melt on my tongue waiting for the rush of bitterness to follow the first taste of sugar. But it didn't come. Instead of the satisfying savoury smell and taste of cocoa the sweetness lingered greasily and queasily.
'What is this?' I asked her, grimacing and searching around for a tissue.
Dr Grump smiled and handed me one of hers (they are softer than most being made from banana skins impregnated with patchouli oil). 'White chocolate dyed brown. It's not the same, is it? You'd be able to tell if you were being fed this stuff instead of real chocolate?'
I nodded my head. I was too busy spitting to properly reply.
'Thought so. Should I bother writing to tell them?' She said, pointing to a report on her desk, then answered herself. 'Sometimes I think it's not worth the bother.'
I looked at her. Dr Grump has changed recently, no doubt about it. She has lost some of her fire. 'What's wrong?' I asked her yet again, but she just shook her head and said nothing.