When she arrived at the London College of Fashion, she thought the noise of the city would drown out the ghosts.

Ellie felt everything Sandie felt: the thrill of a first whiskey at the Toucan Club, the weight of a man’s hand on her lower back, the dizzy hope when a promoter named Jack said, “I know people, darling. Important people.”

But the real aggression bled through.

Sandie appeared at the window. Not as a victim. As a fury.