He recalled: “The night Tans died we were all sitting outside in the back garden … it was around midnight, a still, overcast night, no moonlight. One by one, people were heading inside to bed, and I told them I’d be in in a little while. I wanted to smoke and watch the darkness and be alone. As I sat there, I noticed above me a white light. I knew it couldn’t be a star because of the cloud cover, but there it was – a simple white light above me. I already knew that when you lose someone you can start to look for things, for signs, so I was on guard. I never believed in any of that stuff and I wasn’t about to start now. But that white light was there, and there was no denying it. It ­definitely wasn’t a star and it wasn’t a helicopter, or a plane, it was too low. I don’t know why, but in my grief and desperation I said to the light, ‘Is that you, babe?'”

And Vinnie remembers the white light moving when he “threw” it a kiss, something he always did for Tanya.

Writing in his book ‘Lost Without You: Loving and Losing Tanya’, he wrote: “The light shone above me; it didn’t waver, or change. Was it Tans? There was only one way to find out. I thought about all the times she’d say, ‘Where’s my kiss?’ and I’d throw her one to catch. So that’s what I did, right there in that dark ­garden – I threw one last kiss up to the white light above me. Suddenly, the light swerved, and dipped, and hovered, and then it flew – zoom! – it flew and swerved and then it disappeared away from me in that garden, and left me, once again alone.”