When I get to my house, the lights of another car have turned off the main road towards me. I am stuck. The house lights have remained on, and whoever’s in the car would have seen my ute lights arrive, so there’s no point pretending I’m not here. If it’s the big guys returning, they’ve probably got bazookas with them. All I can do is take a secure point and let them come. I grab the shotgun and some shells, run to where I keep the ladder, and take it where I can climb onto the roof that looks over where the car might park. On the roof, I crawl near the edge, lie flat, and look out into the night. The light meanders its way in, and I take a bead on it. Perhaps I should shoot now — scare them, put them off — but I know the shotgun won’t do any damage until they are pretty close. The lights keep coming all the way to the house. I breathe, and take aim. I don’t think I can pull off a shot as good as the calf shot, and the shotgun won’t make a clean hole: it will blow a hole the size of a watermelon.

The driver gets out of the vehicle, and I loop my finger around the trigger. I could blow a foot off from this distance. But only one person gets out of the car, and in the half-dark I see it’s Elaine. Surprisingly, she’s dishevelled — part of her shirt is hanging out, and from here her hair looks like she slept on it. She walks towards the house, steps past the two handguns lying on the grass without reacting to them, and knocks on the door. My thoughts are back in a maelstrom. I leave my gun where it is, and edge my way back off the roof. When my foot finds the ladder, I push my mouth into my jumper and yell out, ‘Coming,’ hoping it doesn’t sound like I’ve been on the roof. When I open the front door, she is smiling calmly, with an expectant look. Expecting what, I wonder.

‘Elaine.’

‘Dave.’

I have left the .22 behind the door, and I can’t think whether I should be reaching for it or not.

‘Sorry to bother you at this hour. It’s just that it’s a bit quiet at my place, and after what happened, I’m really jumpy. I thought, if you wouldn’t mind some company …’

‘Sure. Come in.’ Come in? Where did that issue from?

As she follows me in, I say, ‘I thought you were at your boyfriend’s house.’ I move swiftly to the door between the kitchen and the TV room, and pull it firmly shut. It was a mess even before Buzzcut and his mates got to it.