In April Mr Tambourine Man, the Byrds’ first single, was finally released. To mark the occasion Bob Dylan himself joined them onstage in Ciro’s one night, temporarily claimed by the Left Coast. The band’s reputation as the heppest kids on the block was firmly sealed. Juno’s next six weeks passed mostly without David, as he was either in the studio recording an album or doing publicity or asleep.

As a result she found herself hanging out with Jackson a little more. He often played the piano in her flower-filled parlour for hours, daytime or night. Despite hailing from Orange County just down the road, he didn’t seem to have a place to go to a lot of the time. He just drifted along with everyone else, and since most of their circle mostly drifted to Juno’s at the end of a night, that’s where he mostly was. There were days when Juno still found it strange to see Jock’s face. It was like a remainder of a past she didn’t want or need anymore, but somehow she did want and need Jackson to like and appreciate her. Particularly when David wasn’t available.

‘So,’ he said to her one morning in May from the piano stool. ‘You’re not doing much painting these days.’

‘Oh, but I am,’ answered Juno. She paused in her flower-arranging and looked right into Jackson’s deep gentle eyes, to no effect at all.

‘Really?’ said he in the wry tone she’d gotten so used to.

‘Matter of fact I started a new one today,’ replied Juno firmly.

‘Can I see it? I really like your stuff, y’know.’

‘There’s nothing much to see yet…’ said Juno less firmly.

‘Then why don’t you work on it some more and let me see it in a couple days.’ It wasn’t a request but a statement, and already Jackson was lost in a new tune.