Every Seven Years Read Online Free PDF

of me, is a worktop
with a large knife block on it. A lot of
knives, maybe fifteen knives, all sizes, and
the wooden handles are pointing straight
towards the front of my hand. I can reach
out and be holding one in a second.
    Karen’s mouth is hanging open. Tam’s
face is a glowering cloud of bitterness behind
her shoulder.
    I say, Hello, Karen.
    No one knows what to do for a moment.
We all stand still.
    Hello, Else, says Karen.
    If I was at home, in London, and a person
I had been at school with seven years
ago fell through my kitchen door I might
have a lot questions for them. Karen just
looks around the floor in front of her and
says, Cuppa?
    It takes a moment to compute. Cuppa?
Cup of tea? Hot cup of tea for you?
    Actually, I say, looking at Tam who is
getting more and more red in the face, A
cuppa would be lovely, Karen, thanks.
    Expertly, as if she is used to doing it,
Karen twists her elbow to snake it out of
Tam’s grasp and steps away. She picks the
kettle up off the range. She turns to look
at both of us, thinking about something
or other, and then she says, Well, I might
as well make a pot of tea.
    No one answers. It’s the action of the
elbow that makes me realize my gut was
right. Tam has held her by that elbow before.
And Karen has freed herself from
that grip many times. He knew she wasn’t
in school today. I remember his look at me
last night, the laughing-eyed assessment
of me as he sat at the table.
    She has her back to us as she fills it from
the tap. Tam nods me towards the knife
block. There it is, his face says, over there.
    And my face says, What? What are you
saying? Oh! There? The knives! Oh, yes! I
forgot about a knife! Okay then! But inside
I’m saying something quite different.
It’s not his fault. It’s understandable because
I’m in a lot of crap on telly. Tam
doesn’t know I’m a good actor.
    Karen gets some mugs down and a
packet of biscuits. She’s talking. To me.
    Else, she says, I heard that your mum
died. And I know that she died before you
came to the school yesterday.
    We look at each other and I see that she
is welling up. I’m so sorry, she says and I
wonder if she means about the book. But
she doesn’t. About the talk, she says. You
must have felt that you couldn’t cancel. Or
you were too shocked, I don’t know, but
I’m sorry.
    And then she puts her hand on my
forearm. I can see in her eyes that she is
really sorry, for my loss, for my mum, and
for the sorrows of all daughters and mothers
and I start to cry.
    Karen’s arms are around me, warm and
safe, and I hear her tut into my ear and say
Oh no, oh no, oh dear. She whispers to
me, I hope you like the book. I’m sobbing
too hard to pull away and she adds, Tam
remembered you liked it back then.
    I don’t think Tam can hear her. He
thinks we are whispering lady things. We
stand in this grief clinch for quite a long
time, until the whistle of the kettle calls an
end to the round.
    She sits me down at the table and I
gather myself, wipe my face, and look at
Tam. Tam is staring hard at the table,
frowning furiously. He has given up making eye contact with me or nodding at
knives or anything. He hasn’t heard it but
he has realized that I’m not going to stab
her and never was. He doesn’t know what
to do now. Karen puts a plate of sugary
biscuits in front of me and gives me a cup
of tea.
    And I’ve put sugar in that for you. I
know you don’t take sugar probably, but
there’s sugar in that because you’ve probably
had a bad shock.
    Karen sits down, her knees towards me.
She picks up her mug and flicks a finger
out at him without looking.
    Did he tell you?
    I sniff, What?
    She smiles, Us , she says, a wry curl
twitching at the side of her mouth.
    I shake my head, baffled.
    She glances at him. He is staring hard
at her but she says it anyway: Married .
    I lift my sugary tea, for the shock, and
drink it though it is too hot. When I