Robert Neville sat on one end of the sofa and poured himself another glass of Scotch.
'Join me?' he said, smiling crookedly at his wife.
Julie shook her head and looked away from him, shifting position. She could feel the first twinges of cramp in her left calf and began to massage the affected area slowly.
Neville suddenly got to his feet and crossed to her, gripping her chin in his hand, forcing her head around so that she was compelled to look into his face. Into his eyes.
They locked stares, then he released his grip and walked towards the window, whisky glass in one hand.
'Bob, just promise me one thing.'
Neville turned to look at her.
'Promise me you won't hurt Lisa. I don't care what you do to me but-'
'Don't you?' he said sharply. 'You really don't care. What's the matter? Do you put that little value on your own life? I thought it was just me you didn't give a shit about.'
She sighed resignedly. 'I know you'll kill me if you want to, I'm just asking you not to hurt Lisa. She is your daughter, in case you'd forgotten.'
'So, you want me to promise?' he said cryptically.
She watched as he downed what was left in the glass then crossed to the wooden sideboard and refilled the tumbler.
There was a photo perched on top of the mahogany cabinet.
A wedding photo.
Neville picked it up and studied the figures in it.
Himself and Julie. So long ago. How long? He could barely remember.
Neville in his uniform. Julie resplendent in a knee-length blue dress.
Nine, ten years ago.
Jesus, where had the time gone?
The photo had been taken outside Camden Register Office. There'd been fewer than a dozen people there. Family, what little they had. Friends, those who'd bothered to turn up.
Neville replaced the photo.
'It hasn't all been bad, has it?' he asked softly, eyes still fixed on the picture.
'What?'
'Our life together.'
'No. We've got Lisa.'
'We just never had each other, did we?' he said, his tone hardening rapidly.
'You were never here, Bob.'
'I was doing a job, for Christ's sake. You knew what I did when you met me. You knew I was in the army.' He turned to face her.
'You were different then,' she told him.
'Bullshit.'
'We were both different people, Bob.' She opened her mouth to speak again but he held up a hand to silence her, his ears attuned to the slightest noise.
He moved across the room, towards the living-room wall, then he cupped a hand to it and listened.
Movement on the other side.
He leaned closer, trying to distinguish the sounds.
Then, silence.
He wondered if the noise had come from the front of the house, but something told him his initial instinct had been correct.
Sounds of movement from the house next door?
Neville retreated from the living room for a moment.
When he returned he was carrying the MPi 69, his face set in a stern expression.
Julie looked at the automatic weapon and shuddered involuntarily.
Neville slipped off the safety catch.
It seemed the waiting was over.