West End evenings in W1 and WC2, taken in the order they happen

What W1 and WC2 actually cover

W1 runs from Regent Street across Soho to the top of Charing Cross Road, taking in Golden Square, Berwick Street and the narrow blocks behind Shaftesbury Avenue. WC2 begins on the far side of that road and holds Covent Garden, Long Acre, the streets around Leicester Square and the Strand. The two postcodes meet along a line almost no visitor notices, which is why Cordelia asks for a hotel name rather than a district. The name settles the postcode, and the postcode settles the journey.

After six, walking beats driving here. Several theatre streets close to traffic, taxis queue instead of moving, and a companion crossing from Covent Garden to Regent Street will be quicker on her feet than in a car. Arrival times are planned on that basis, and the desk gives you the honest minute rather than the flattering one.

Hotels a companion is asked to arrive at

These are addresses on a booking form and nothing more. No hotel named on this page has any agreement with the desk, none is asked for anything, and none is told who is expected.

A hotel stands on Regent Street at W1B 4DY, a short walk from Piccadilly Circus. Another sits on Leicester Square itself, WC2H 7DX, with a lobby busy until very late. One is tucked behind Denman Street in Soho, W1D 7DT, and makes the quietest arrival of the group. The grandest of them faces the Strand at WC2R 0EZ. A fifth address, WC2N 4HX, sits between the square and Covent Garden, and the one at W1B 1JA stands at the top of Regent Street and belongs as much to Marylebone as to the West End.

A companion goes to the room rather than the bar unless you have asked for the bar. She takes the lift alone, dressed for the setting you described in your message. The room number is asked for once, at the confirmation stage, and is used for one purpose only, which is getting her to the right door.

Stations, and the minutes that follow them

Piccadilly Circus, on the Bakerloo and Piccadilly lines, leaves about two minutes on foot to the Regent Street addresses. Leicester Square, Northern and Piccadilly, is roughly three minutes from the doors on the square. Covent Garden, Piccadilly line only, leaves about six minutes to most of WC2, and the lift queue there is a real thing: near eleven it can add five minutes by itself, so the desk routes companions through Leicester Square instead and walks them the last stretch.

None of this is your concern on the night. The journey belongs to her and sits inside the fee, since travel throughout Zones 1 and 2 is already counted in the figures. It matters here only because it decides the arrival window Cordelia writes down, and she would rather write down a window you can trust.

The running order, seven until one

Seven o'clock: one drink somewhere small, twenty minutes, close enough to your hotel that nothing is at risk. Half past seven: an early table, because kitchens near the theatres are built for people holding tickets and will move fast when told why. A quarter past nine: the show, or the second half of dinner when there is no show.

A quarter to eleven: Shaftesbury Avenue fills in one go and the pavements are briefly hopeless. The desk suggests letting it pass with a last drink rather than fighting it. Half past eleven: a walk back through the quieter blocks, and a door closing at midnight if that is the length you booked. Three hours at £700 covers dinner and a show with room to breathe, four hours at £900 covers all of the above, and an hour at £250 covers a late drink and nothing else, which is a good enough Tuesday.

Who writes to the desk about W1 and WC2

Three kinds of message arrive. One comes from a guest whose tickets are already bought and who wants company for the evening around them, with a name he can give at the table. One comes at half past ten from someone who has just walked out of a theatre alone and would rather not go straight up to the room. One comes days ahead from people working in London who have learned that a Friday table for two at eight is worth arranging while it still exists.

All three get the same treatment: a written reply carrying a name, a start time, a length and a figure, and a plain no when the answer is no. Cordelia will not hold an evening open on a maybe, because a maybe is the one thing a desk cannot deliver.

The two names offered first here

Jasmin lives in Soho, which makes hers the shortest journey on the whole register and the obvious choice when a message lands late. She is petite, quick on her feet, and reliably three minutes ahead of the curtain. Karolina is in Covent Garden, tall, dark haired and entirely unbothered by a grand dining room, and she is the better answer when the evening is built around a long sitting rather than a performance.

Everyone else in the register reaches the West End as well, most within forty minutes of a confirmation. Where each companion lives is stated on her own page, so you can judge the timing for yourself instead of taking the desk's word for it.

The streets on either side

Soho is the middle of all this and needs no journey at all. Covent Garden starts at Charing Cross Road, with Leicester Square sitting three minutes between them, and Oxford Street closes the district off along the north. Beyond it the desk keeps a separate page for Marylebone, about fifteen minutes on foot from Oxford Circus. East along the Strand the character changes completely, and the hours of the Square Mile are set out on their own page.