The Rochester family’s rain-streaked Bentley looked utterly out of place as it pulled up on a grimy East London street, and so did the angular face glaring out of its backseat window.
“This is it
?” Alice Rochester sniffed. She was scrutinizing the cracked concrete facade of Formica, Dalston’s hippest new music venue. “Could this place be any less glamorous? What the hell were they thinking?”
“Babe. Chill.” Natalya Abbott, Alice’s best boarding-school friend, twirled a strand of white-blond hair round her fingers. Slumming it on the frontier of...