Hotel visits in Covent Garden, WC2E, from the half hour call to the last bow

The postcode is small enough to cross in twelve minutes and holds more auditoria than any comparable patch of the country. The Opera House takes Bow Street and most of Floral Street with it. The Donmar hides in a former brewery warehouse on Earlham Street, seating two hundred and fifty people who all feel they are in the front row. The Fortune, the Duchess and the Theatre Royal sit within three streets of each other, and the Coliseum stands a little west on St Martin's Lane with its illuminated globe turning above the traffic.

Between them the district behaves like a backstage corridor. At half past six the pavements fill with people checking watches; by ten past seven they are empty; at half past ten every door opens at once and the quarter refills for an hour. Anyone who works here reads an evening by that rhythm, and so does the desk.

Three sorts of guest, most weeks. Visitors staying near the Piazza with a pair of tickets and one seat they would rather not leave empty, who want company that will watch the thing and have an opinion afterwards. Business travellers finishing late around Holborn, who would rather eat properly at nine than take a tray upstairs at eight. And people living above the shops on Bedford Street and Long Acre, wanting an evening that never crosses a main road. What they share is a respect for timing.

NoMad London occupies the old magistrates' court on Bow Street, directly opposite the Opera House, with the atrium restaurant sunk into what used to be the building's central well. The Henrietta on Henrietta Street is the small, dark panelled option two minutes from the Piazza. The Resident Covent Garden on Bedford Street is plainer and quieter, which some guests prefer. St Martins Lane is four minutes west behind its tall glass front, and The Savoy sits five minutes south through the lanes with One Aldwych beside it.

Each is listed as a place she walks into, not as an associate: no agreement exists with any of them and none is wanted. Serviced flats around Floral Court and private homes on Bedford Street are visited on the same footing.

Covent Garden, one minute from the Piazza on the Piccadilly line, though the lifts queue badly the moment a show comes down. Leicester Square, four minutes west, adding the Northern. Charing Cross, six minutes south towards the river, with the Bakerloo beneath it and the Kent services overhead.

Every WC2E address sits deep in Zone 1, so the travelling is counted into the fee and never billed afterwards.

One message does it, on WhatsApp or Telegram, at any hour. Name the woman you have chosen, or sketch the evening and let the desk cast it, then add the date, the hour it starts, the length and the address. A reply lands inside 10 to 15 minutes with her answer and the figure in whole pounds. Wording to copy sits on the booking page.

Three lines are matched once over WhatsApp before she leaves: the name the evening sits under, the hotel, and the number on the door. Once those three lines agree, the evening goes onto the call sheet at the hour you asked for, whether the door belongs to a hotel room or a private address. Anything running to morning, an event, or a journey out of London simply wants more notice, because tickets and timings get arranged around it.

From written confirmation, a WC2E door is usually reached inside the hour, often in twenty minutes when she is already in the postcode. Matinee days and the crush at final curtain stretch that, which is the argument for writing in the afternoon rather than at ten past eleven. Call it off three hours ahead and nothing is owed. Under two hours, half the fee stands. A door that never opens is charged whole. Fifteen minutes on either side is grace rather than a penalty.

18:15, a first drink at the bar of your hotel while the interval crowds are still two hours away. 18:45, the short walk to Clos Maggiore on King Street, where the conservatory ceiling is a canopy of blossom and the fire is lit from October. 20:00, Bow Street, and whatever the Opera House has up that week. 22:30, back through the empty market to Cora Pearl for something small and a last glass. 23:30, the lift, and the rest of the night at your tempo.

That running order is four hours with dinner in it, £900 and nothing beyond. Keep the performance and the late supper and three hours comes to £700. For company once the house lights are up, ninety minutes is £400 and two hours £500. Booked as a ten hour night it simply carries on to breakfast at £1,800.

Three women on the list keep their home address inside this district, which is why WC2E arrivals are the fastest on the circuit. Karolina lives three minutes from the stage door on Bow Street, follows the season closely enough to argue about casting, and is the obvious choice when you have seats for something serious. Nancy is four streets from the market, golden blonde, blue eyed and the easiest company on the call sheet when a long day needs softening. Tina is the shortest on the list at 158 cm, knows which shopfront used to be which, and says yes to a Tuesday more readily than anyone.

Every other woman in the company comes to a Covent Garden address on precisely the same figures. These three simply put their coats on sooner.

The postcode changes letters without changing terms. East along the Strand, the crescent of Strand and Aldwych begins at Wellington Street. North east, Holborn takes over at Kingsway, with the garden squares of Bloomsbury ten minutes behind it. West sits Leicester Square, and the hill runs down to Charing Cross and the river. All six WC2 codes are gathered on the WC2 page.