Liana, companion in Harlington

Harlington is a village that ended up behind a hotel row, and Liana likes it for that oddness: a church, a few streets, then the back of some of the biggest hotels in west London. Slim, 167 cm, her chestnut brown hair long and straight, her eyes brown, and the sort of face that looks composed in a lift full of strangers. Late twenties. Marylebone is home, and she comes out on the Elizabeth line more often than she drives.

She is even tempered to a degree that is slightly unusual in this business. Nothing rattles her, not a delay, not a changed room number, not a guest who is two hours later than he promised and apologetic about it. Her English is unhurried and precise. She asks good questions and then actually waits, which people who spend their days being interrupted find restful.

Her usual is the large hotel at the Harlington end of the Bath Road, five minutes by car and about eighteen on foot from Hayes and Harlington station, which is a walk she has done in daylight and does not recommend in the rain. Inside it is large, warm and anonymous, with a bar that stays useful after ten. She will meet you there or come to whichever of the neighbouring buildings your company has booked.

The UB3 side of the airport is set out on Harlington. Send the desk your hotel, the evening and whether you are working the next morning, and she will arrive already knowing the way in. Rates lists every duration.

An evening with her out here is low on spectacle and high on comfort, which is the correct trade for a Tuesday in a hotel behind a village. She arrives, she settles, and within ten minutes the room feels less like a room you were allocated. She is unbothered by a small table, a limited menu or a bar that has run out of the thing you wanted.

If the weather is behaving she will suggest a short walk before dinner, down towards the old church and back, which takes twenty minutes and resets the day better than another drink would. Otherwise she stays put, kicks off her shoes, and lets the conversation go wherever it goes. She is at her best in the last hour, when nothing needs deciding.