Thea, companion in Limehouse

About Thea

The river turns at Limehouse and the whole basin goes still behind it, masts and pontoons and a lock keeper's cottage with the light on. Thea knows the times of the tide better than the train times. Curvy, 165 cm, caramel blonde hair worn long, green eyes that turn grey in flat weather. She dresses for the wind off the water: a proper coat, a soft dress under it, shoes she can manage on a pontoon walkway.

Late twenties, fluent English, and easy company, the sort that makes three hours feel like ninety minutes. Thea laughs readily and at herself first. She sails, badly and with great enthusiasm, has a running argument with a friend about the merits of the Thames Path east of here, and she is the only person in this book who will suggest an early evening booking so the light is still on the water.

The Narrow at the end of Narrow Street is her table: a wide room with the river filling the windows and a terrace for the nights when standing outside is actually pleasant. From there it is five minutes to Westferry and about ten on foot to the Canary Wharf towers if that is where your room is. She lives in South Kensington and is frank about the trip, fifty minutes by road, so she books herself long evenings out here.

Limehouse is two minutes from the DLR and the c2c platforms, with the Wharf one stop east. What an evening costs is on rates. Tell booking the hour you want and she will choose the table for the light.

Booking her

Nell wants the hour, the length and your address, and sends back a written confirmation with the arrival time on it. Out here the last DLR matters, so an evening that runs past midnight is better planned as a longer booking.

Every figure she works to is public on the board, and the steps sit on the booking page.

An evening with Thea

She will ask for seven rather than nine, and she is right. The hour before dark on this stretch of river is the reason to be in E14 at all, with the tide moving and the light going pink over the towers downstream.

Dinner is by the window and she talks about boats until you are interested despite yourself. Afterwards the walk goes west along Narrow Street, past the old captains' houses and the dry dock, and then over the bridge at the basin where the masts knock about in the wind. If your room is in the Wharf it is ten minutes on foot or one stop on the DLR, which stops running about half past midnight, and she will remind you of that at eleven rather than at one.