Rabbit’s editor, Derek, was the first to stand in front of the crowd. He introduced himself and explained to those who didn’t know him that he and Rabbit had worked together for many years. He talked about how brilliant she was, how insightful and empathetic. He drew a picture of an employee who didn’t take any shit from anyone. He mentioned a time when she was interviewing an actor and when he placed his hand on her knee and leaned in for a kiss, she grabbed him by the nose and gave him three seconds to move it. He moved it in one. Everyone laughed. He mentioned that he was currently editing her cancer blogs and a collection of memories she wrote in the last months and weeks of her life. He told everyone to ‘watch this space’. He ended his short speech with the words: ‘Rabbit may be dead, but she’s not gone.’ Everyone clapped and Caroline nodded to Louis, who cued the next song, ‘Blowin’ in the Wind’ by Bob Dylan. Some were crying, some were smiling, some rocked, some tapped their feet, everyone sang.

Francie was up next. ‘I’m Francie Byrne, I’ve known Rabbit since she was knee-high to a grasshopper. She went from being the baby sister of the drummer in my band to the annoying kid who followed us around, to our roadie, then our sound engineer. She was fourteen and she was on the road, standing her ground with hairy auld fellas and controlling a sound desk. She was old before her time, worldly-wise, not weary, and no one could talk to Johnny Faye the way she could. He was difficult long before he got sick with MS. He was a singer, after all.’

Everyone who knew Johnny, including his own mother, nodded vigorously. ‘He could be an awful pain in the hole,’ she said to the woman next to her, with a wide smile plastered across her face.

‘Rabbit was honest, she said it like it was. She didn’t dick around – she’s like her ma that way. Nobody messed with Rabbit, but when you needed anything she’d be there, front and centre, sorting it all out.’ He looked down at Molly, who nodded to him and smiled.

‘She was a lot of things to a lot of people – daughter, sister, mother – but she was my friend. I’ll miss her. Thanks.’

People clapped and he blew Rabbit’s basket a kiss. Caroline cued Louis and the next song kicked off, Bruce Springsteen’s ‘I’m on Fire’.

Molly could hear the echo of a then-teenage Grace instructing Rabbit to ‘rewind, play – no, too far, I don’t want to hear the DJ, forward – no, go back.’

‘Ah Grace, if I keep going it won’t be just Bruce on fire, the tape will go up in flames, too.’