This room is too bright in the morning. White walls, eastern facing windows. But it's safe. They've come here three times, never planning in advance. He will find himself on the train, like he's been sleep walking. He texts her, always the same; "Please come round for tea."
There is always some pretense: information, supplies, reports on John's well-being. But these are all things he could procure on his own. She knows this. She goes along with it up until the moment he reaches for her.
She never stays the night. Slips out softly before the sheets have dried.