JACK SPENT THE MORNING in the attic. By lunchtime he’d found his diaries from the years 1954 to 1968. He was missing ’69 and ’70, but he located ’71 to ’84. He was still searching out ’84 to ’87, the key Kitchen Sink years, when Davey and his best friends – singer Johnny Faye, guitar player Francie, bass player Jay and Louis on keyboards – spent every waking moment they could in his garage rehearsing their music. Rabbit had lived in that garage; she loved the music but she loved the effortlessly cool Johnny Faye more. It made him smile – Davey always trying to get rid of his little sister and Johnny Faye always welcoming her back in. He wrote a lot about those years and the tragedy of it all, and how proud he was of both his son and daughter during those difficult times. Johnny and Rabbit’s relationship defied time and place. He died aged twenty-six, and Rabbit lasted eighteen years on earth without him. Ya did good, love.

Thanks, Da.

Johnny and Rabbit were alive in Jack’s diaries. There he had recorded the rise and fall of the band and Johnny and Rabbit’s tragic love story. They were special years, magical even, just before he got sick and everything was possible. We had it all back then, he thought. The whole world in our hands. He always knew it, he always loved his little girl with every bit of him, but he wondered if he really comprehended how special she really was until her cancer and slow death allowed him to step back from the everyday and examine her as a whole being, and her life in its entirety. My Rabbit.

He was still emptying boxes and sorting piles of paper when his phone rang. He answered instantly when he saw Rabbit’s editor Derek was on the end of the line. Rabbit had worked on profiles and lifestyle features under Derek for ten years. It was he who suggested she blog about her cancer, in the early days before anyone even considered a terminal diagnosis. As soon as she’d found a big enough audience, her blogs turned into articles and her cancer diary was born. The volume of letters she received from fellow cancer sufferers and survivors astonished them both. Rabbit had found herself a whole new community and her loss would reverberate.

‘Derek?’

‘Jack, I’m ringing to offer my sincere condolences.’

‘Thanks, Derek, that means a lot. I know Rabbit had such respect for you.’

‘And I for her. With that in mind, Jack, and I hope it’s not too early for me to bring this up, but Rabbit passed on all of her work for the book a few days ago.’

‘Oh,’ Jack said, ‘I wasn’t aware.’

‘Her blogs were so popular, Jack.’

‘Yes, yes, she had quite a following.’

‘The next step was a book. You know I promised I’d make that happen.’

‘Right.’