I'd giggle under the bedclothes, because we both knew there was nothing dangerous about me. I was shy, skinny and slightly built. Dad wasn't tall, he was certainly an inch or two off six foot, but his shoulders were broad and I'd look at him and think, he is a lion. He commands a battalion. He did, too: he was a colonel. At a very young age. And I knew that gave us kudos in some quarters. Roger, for instance, always made a beeline for my father at parties, sounding him out on the current state of play in Afghanistan, the Middle East. People liked to have a genuine point of contact, a thoroughly reliable source, our man in the conflict zone, so they could later say: "Well, of course, Bill Penhallow says . . ."

Mum and I were incredibly proud of him. And he wasn't a typical soldier, either. He painted, when he was home. Outside, with the easel and palette I still use and treasure more than my life. Because of his rank, we no longer had to live on the base in Falmouth as we did when I was tiny, and Dad, who like Mum was from around here, bought our cottage, primarily because although you couldn't see the sea — those houses were way out of our league — the garden faced the right direction so you could smell it and imagine it. And if you walked fast, in a straight line, for half an hour, with your backpack of paints and sandwiches on your back and your portable easel, you could reach it. Dad did, and I went with him, with my own backpack of watercolors, rather than oils. The deal was I could stay as long as I painted. He didn't mind if I chatted, that was allowed, although he'd often only murmur back, but handstands and wandering off and bringing the dog were not. I loved to go. I didn't see enough of my father — he was away so much — and this was our special time. And I got quite good. I'm not sure if I'm a talented painter, although others like my work and it sells and I see it on people's walls, but I certainly started young, and practiced a lot, which is not so different to a four-year-old learning the violin and getting results. Most children like to mess around with paints, but how many do it all day, as I did?