Patricia keeps things simple: one colour, good cloth, nothing that will still be in fashion next spring. Slim, 172 cm, auburn brown hair long and loose, and brown eyes that give away exactly as much as she intends. Late twenties. Her voice is lower than you expect and she never raises it, which has the useful effect of making everyone else at a table lean in and quieten down.

English, used sparingly and well. She is the most self contained name here, and by some distance the best listener, and people tell her things over dinner that they had not planned to say out loud. She rides when she can get out of town, reads biographies, and has an eye for detail that turns up in odd places, including an ability to remember the name of every member of staff in a restaurant she has been to twice.

A Belgravia evening with her is dinner at Olivo on Eccleston Street, a small blue room with Sardinian food and about fourteen tables, where the noise never rises above conversation. She books at eight and stays past eleven. Her flat is minutes from Eaton Square, so the walk back through it and the Elizabeth Street shops is a two minute detour she will suggest and you will be glad of.

Eight o'clock is the start she asks for, and she stays well past eleven when the evening deserves it. The Belgravia page has SW1 and the other women who work there. Put an eight o'clock date and the hotel to booking, and the answer about what is still open will be an honest one.

Nothing has been written up under Patricia yet, which is usually what discretion looks like. A note goes on the board only when a client sends one in writing, she agrees to it, and the office has checked that it reads as a first name, a month and nothing private.