As the BBC announcer began setting the scene I realised, with gratitude, that this tape was in as good a condition as the others. The audience began clapping as the leader appeared, followed by a crescendo of expectant applause. I could imagine Jackie striding onto the stage carrying her ‘whopping creature’. A few moments of tuning, a short pause, and she began. I suddenly jumped. She was slowing the tempo down. A few more bars and it became vividly clear. I knew exactly what was happening. Jackie, as always, was speaking through her cello. I could hear what she was saying. No longer was she on the polished wooden platform of the Royal Festival Hall performing to an audience. Instead she was playing in the open air, as if in a huge grass field, and in front of her was a grave. No one else was there, not even an orchestra. She was alone. Everything was still and silent except for her music. All I could see was Jackie with her cello, playing intensely to an empty grave. The grave was hers, and she knew it. I could almost see tears on her face. She was saying goodbye to herself, playing her own requiem. << less