Ten minutes into her Sheffield show, Lucy Rose admits she’s just had a mini heart attack. “I didn’t think anyone was going to clap,” she explains. It’s the audience’s fault for making her wait until the final strains of her curiously crafty folk-pop songs have faded out before they applaud. It’s making her feel awkward, clearly, but that’s not the intention. If anything, such a reverential hush is a mark of respect. It’s a sign of how deeply entranced this crowd are by Rose: they want to hear every note she has to play.