Amérique du Nord, juin 2005, séries ES et S, LV1: Graham Swift, The Light of Day, 2003.

« Sujet 9 ♦ Amérique du Nord, juin 2005, séries ES et S, LVI You can sniff an atmosphere straight away, you know when something funny's going on.

Off duty? Maybe, maybe not.

I sat at a table by the window.

The shower had turned into a downpour.

A waitress with a strange, hounded look seemed only too pleased to serve me.

Three tables along, a big man (Marco?- l'll never know) was standing, towering over a girl who was sitting facing me s but not looking at me, looking hard at her hands, one of which held a just-lit cigarette.

The big man was speaking -under his breath but as if he might suddenly bellow -and she was ignoring what he was saying.

He jabbed a finger towards the door.

She wore a raincoat - unbuttoned, dry- but looked like she didn't mean to budge.

He wore a grubby T-shirt, a tea towel tucked into his belt.

10 She took a drag on her cigarette, blew the smoke quickly and straight up, tilting up her chin.

And I got it all straight away.

Ten out of ten for detection (and for that other thing that goes with it, sometimes: intuition).

A waitress too.

But she'd just been given her marching orders.

For something she'd done, in the kitchen perhaps, just moments before -or hadn't done.

Something he'd done (the details would get filled in later), and she hadn't complied.

You have to put yourself is in the scene.

There was a waitress's apron hanging untidily from one of the hooks by the entrance to the kitchen, as if it had been flung there in a hurry.

So: she'd been ail ready to storm out.

Stuff your job.

But then the rain had started outside and she'd had a better, angrier, braver idea.

She'd sat down at the table.

20 If she didn't work here any more, she could be a customer, couldn't she? She could order a coffee, couldn't she? And he could damn well bring it.

Brave, angry girl.

She looked straight ahead without even seeing me.

Brave, angry, blonde girl.

He leant over her, his voice rising.

His hands gripped the edge of the table as ifhe might tip it up.

I don't remember my decision, I don't remember getting up, but one moment I was sitting at my 2s table, the next I was standing by hers, saying, "What's the trouble here?" And the next moment I was sitting down opposite her, but looking at him, and saying, "I think this lady would like a coffee ...

".

The nerve.

But who knows what l'd have done without my fall-back, my invisible shield? The ID in my breast pocket and the word waiting ready, which, as it happens, I didn't have to use: Police.

30 " ••• and l'd like to buy it for her." She looked at me.

I could almost hear her think: Now what? What now? Who was this bloke from nowhere? He glared.

A moment's stand-off.

Then he turned (l'd done it!), whipping the tea towel from his belt, back to the kitchen.

More words under his breath.

A sudden certainty inside me.. »