Our daughter’s silence was a persistent worry, for I suspected that it wasn’t a mature response to the need for silence but rather a conditioned reflex, no doubt beaten into her. Ish didn’t have my character quite right, for there were times I was pretty sure I could kill, and if I had encountered ‘Mr Rattan’ or whatever his bloody name was, I am pretty sure the firing squad he met would have been redundant. Save the bullets, boys, the bald round-eye over there has fists.

I had hopes for her, based on how she had behaved with what I would always think of as her first friends, for she could squeal and shout with the loudest of them, but Ish was spot on about school. Her quiet intensity might lead to bullying, just for starters. Then again, she had opened up so well after six long years with nobody apart from her mother as a comfort. I had assumed she would have had problems with me, as a man, but that hadn’t happened, and it was the same with her brother, not to mention her immediate inclusion of Clara.

Good and bad, Rhodes. Standard Climbers’ Plan A: let her lead, catch her if she fell, and make sure the ground anchors were solid ones.

Debbie surprised us on our last weekend in Cardiff by simply taking over our planning as a set of givens. No car, just our camping and walking kit, with a very specific “No ropes and shit!”, and our transport turned out to be a fifteen-seat minibus.

“Can’t fit all the girls in, and some of them are on school hours rather than Uni ones. Sorry, Maz: schools go back at the start of September, college at the start of October. Clara here, therefore, and Alicia, Maria, Rachel, Emma, they’re still off. My younger ones have got a couple of minders in, and Frank’s on the phone if it gets serious. Just thought, seeing how far you’ve travelled, it would be a shame to miss the West. Got three nights booked in a campsite we know. Mike, I know. That’s why I said ‘no ropes’. Maz?”

“Er, yeah?”

“Most of the British auks including puffins. Bit like South Stack, chough as well, but also Manx shearwaters. And that’s the girls’ gift to you all”

Maz looked confused for a second, then laughed happily.

“Darling, it’s Woody island again!”

She turned back to Debbie.

“Our honeymoon, my man here surprised me. Little blue penguins. They come ashore to roost, but it’s at night. Same with the shearwaters?”

Debbie was nodding happily.

“Been there for the roost, and it’s magical. Got you one overnight for two adults and a small person, all that was left. Ish will just have to miss out. I mean, we can all go over for the day, but it’ll just be the three of you for the dark stuff. Now, bums on seats, and if you’ve forgotten anything, tough shit”

We set off out of the city once again, this time staying with the M4 until Cross Hands, which was so different to how I remembered it. I was sitting up front with Maz and Deb, and the latter caught my chuckle.

“Aye, Mike. Not the way it was. Bit like the A5 used to be after Telford; that what you remember?”

“Yup. Maz, there was a café here, and the motorway, well, it just finished, bang. Your part of the world, Debbie?”

“Not as such. I’m from up north, but this is still part of my, well, my beat. Lorries full of supermarket stuff, usually out to Haverford West. We’re actually going to South Pembrokeshire, so it’s all a lot quieter. Campsite is a gem, and there are extras to see”

“Such as?”

“Bloody big tanks doing live firing, for starters”

I swear the bus rocked a little as Ish sat up straight. Big boys’ toys, as always.

Deb was our sole driver, due to the type of vehicle, and she turned out to be very, very particular in her choice of road music, as I should have expected. We got Steeleye Span, obviously, but also old Pink Floyd, Fairport and Led Zep for starters, and while the sounds didn’t exactly speed her driving, it felt enough like it that we didn’t get that bored.

The campsite was at a junction of lanes and included an old church in its grounds. As three of us booked in for the group, Deb waved at the tower.

“Can see right out to Lundy from the top, as well as over to Castlemartin and the tanks. Plan for tomorrow is to park up in Bosherston, cut across the top of Stackpole Warren to the Quay, then follow the cliff edge through Barafundle and out to Huntsman’s Leap. Back by way of the Lily Ponds and pig out in the pub. Long day; little’un up to it?”

“Haven’t managed to wear her out yet, Debbie. Food for tonight?”

“Fully loaded, Mike. This is a no-pub weekend”

Maz laughed, pointing out that Debbie had already suggested one for the next day, and there was a firm head shake.

“I mean no evenings there, or at a chip shop. Back to basics, us. Communal cooking and an early night: this is a sort of dark skies site”

She checked on how close her girls were, then dropped her voice.

“Sometimes, this is a deliberate choice. Destress myself, yeah? It’s also a useful place for new girls, like Tara there. A chance for her to get out and about without the risk of being seen by anyone she’d prefer not to meet. Only had her a month, so this is her first time away. Don’t worry; just be yourselves, she’ll be fine”

Tents up, bags laid out, no guesses as to where Ish was sleeping or with whom, and then LC was staring at the edge of the field as rabbits emerged to graze along the hedgerows. Ish pointed them out.

“Remember my Bunbun, Carolyn? Those are bunnies”

“Seen them before but not so lots”

“There are lots on the island, I was reading, and they come really close”

“How did they get to an island?”

“People took them there”

“Why?”

“They can’t swim that far”

The question of lagomorph-based cuisine, neatly sidestepped by my boy.

“I won’t see them, though. Can you get me lots of pictures?”

Promises made, and miles to walk after we sleep.

The tower views were great, the shared meal was without surprises, the skies remained wonderfully clear, and as a result it got bloody cold, which wasn’t in my plans. Debbie’s Summer was going, but ours would be waiting for us back home. LC ended up sleeping between us, as things should be.

Debbie’s ‘little walk’ was not a short one. I wasn’t that familiar with the crags of South Pembrokeshure, as I was never that much of a sea cliff
Climber, but I could see the routes and hear them calling my name and making sweetly seductive promises. Such a pity I had been made to leave all my gear in Cardiff. We passed a solitary standing stone as we crossed the Warren, LC now paying far more attention to her ‘bunnies’, and arrived at Stackpole Quay, a tiny little landing stage with a solitary fishing boat moored just offshore. A lot of steps gave us access at last to the open turf above the cliffs, and I noticed my wife and our driver slightly separating themselves from our group, I assumed for some ornithological reason. There was a wall, with an arch, and a wonderfully clean beach backed by dunes: Barafundle. I noticed Maz’ standard species recital was now a question and answer with Deb.

“Jackdaw?”

“Chough”

“Ooh. Life tick”

There was another beach after Barafundle, hemmed in by cliffs and decorated, if that is the right word, with a single dead cow, which brought all the wrong questions from LC. Fortunately, there was a collapsed cave a little further on, which seized her attention.

Down to the big beach at Broad Haven and then, finally, a loo break before we needed to implement CBT with our daughter. The landscape really opened out after that, the cliffs forming spectacular inroads into the grassland, and there were three specific stops, the first being a tiny chapel tucked into one of the little collapsed cave systems. Clara did the tourist guide on that site.

“St Govan’s Chapel. Used in a telly series recently, the Philip Pullman ‘Dark Materials’ one”

Maria called out, “And weren’t you glued to that one, Clar? Shall we tell them why?”

Jer words struck me as a little sharp, and I wondered whether she was having a little spate of green eyes, but Clara turned it aside with a simple “Guilty! But her dresses--- oh, so, so lovely”

Maria explained, rather less sharply now.

“One of the characters, a Mrs Poulter or Coulter, she was always in sort of retro dresses”

“Lovely ones”

“Clara, they were bloody silk, and made to measure, no doubt, and she has bloody hips to hang them off, and… Sorry. Just having a bit of a not real day. Sorry. Just ignore me; I’ll be fine”

The new girl looked worried, but she was quickly shepherded away by Rachel and Emma, clearly a double act, as Clara stepped forward to cuddle Maria.

“I know, love. Me and Ish, well, not planned, was it? And Alwen?”

Maria looked quickly round the group.

“It’s that obvious?”

I nodded, as did almost everyone else.

“Shit! That’s her place ruined for me, then!”

Deb spoke up at last.

“Maria?”

“Yes, Nana?”

“When did Doc Thomas last review your HRT and blockers?”

“Can’t remember”

“He will. Mood swings can be violent, so don’t throw a friendship away just because your blood chemistry’s being silly. And I would really have a word with Alicia about Alwen. Don’t make guesses, get facts. Then we decide, as a family, okay? The girl’s not been out that long, so she could do without extra pressure, and without extra pressure, well, you never know”

“But she’s so right as she is now!”

“You know that, I know that. So does Marlene. Alwen needs a chance to realise it herself, Most important, though: don’t write off a good friendship because you want more than they can offer. My sister and I learned that one early. Right! Huntsman, the Magic Target, and then back for the Lily Ponds. As for you, love, we will all do what we can. Family, aye?”

Huntsman’s Leap was a spectacular cleft, another collapsed cave system, complete with the obligatory tale of equine aerobatics, and I really missed my climbing gear as I scanned the walls. Deb was insistent, though, and dragged us onwards, but not that far.

“Edge of Castlemartin ranges, Mike. See the signs?”

I had indeed, with their charming warning ‘Do not pick anything up, it may explode and kill you’.

“Right, you lot. This is the edge of the live firing area, so we go no further as I don’thjave the range dates memorised. Now, see that orange thing?”

There were multiple nods.

“Good. Remember that programme we recorded, about Sparky’s mate and the older men?”

More nods.

“That is what is left of the thing one of those old men used to drive around in. It’s an old tank that’s been used as a target”

To my surprise, Ish actually laughed.

“Sorry, sorry! It’s just the fluorescent paint, Debbie. I was imagining the lecture before a real war”

He settled himself into a sort of parade rest, putting on a plummy RP accent.

“Chaps, after all your range practice, which has been excellent, I am afraid that Johnny Foreigner has come up with a cunning, underhand plan, and will not be painting his tanks orange but camouflaging the blighters!”

I laughed, dutifully, but with internal reservation. I had no idea what sort of tank the target had been, but what was left was, in essence, scrap metal with a lot of large holes in it. My mind’s eye placed a man behind each of those perforations, as memory brought out far too many old footage of burning vehicles and men.

Not so good.