Letter from Chicago. Cathy Kelly

school. They went to parties in big cars and bought expensive clothes. Kim buttoned up the pink blouse she had bought for twenty euros. Still, she was happy.

      The twins listened to their new Lady Gaga CD and put on their make-up. The principal might not like students to wear make-up, but Emer and Laura didn’t care.

      Emer closed one eye as she put on black eyeliner.

      ‘Mum will kill you if she sees you wearing that much,’ Laura said.

      Laura was generally considered to be the more sensible twin, but it was a limited distinction.

      ‘She’ll get over it,’ said Emer confidently. She did the other eye. ‘Do I look like Gaga?’ she asked.

      ‘You’d need more than that!’ said her sister, laughing.

      Emer grinned.

      ‘I wish we didn’t have a test in Irish today,’ Laura said. ‘I know I’ll fail.’

      ‘It’ll be easy,’ said Emer. She was good at Irish. She didn’t understand how Laura wasn’t good at it. Twins were supposed to be the same at everything. But then, Laura had no interest in clothes. She didn’t get excited by the thought of a sale in Top Shop. And she didn’t seem that keen on guys either. Not really, anyway. She agreed that Hugh O’Regan in the year above was handsome. But she’d never dream of chatting him up. Emer smiled at him for all she was worth every morning at assembly.

      ‘Girls, come down for breakfast!’ shouted their mother.

      Emer sighed. She put on another bit of eyeliner for luck and blended it in till it was blackly smudgy. When she was sixteen, she was going to dye her hair blonde. She was fed up with brown hair. She fancied bright blonde, the sort of hair that exquisite women from Sweden had. Boys loved blondes. Emer thought of Hugh and smiled to herself. Perhaps she wouldn’t wait until she was sixteen.

      Tom McDonnell didn’t sit at the kitchen table for breakfast. He ate a piece of toast standing up. He had a rewiring job in Rathfarnham at half nine. The traffic would be mad at this time of the morning. His mother-in-law usually gave out to him when he didn’t eat a proper breakfast. Today, she said nothing but stared into the distance. He ate his toast and wondered if she was sick.

      At ten to eight, he was ready to leave the house. ‘Bye, love,’ he said to Kim and kissed her. ‘Bye, Elsie, bye, girls.’

      ‘Bye, Dad,’ answered the girls.

      Elsie didn’t speak. She had to be sick, Tom thought. Elsie never stopped talking usually. Elsie had lived with them for two years, since she’d been widowed. She talked about the neighbours, about bingo and about her sister in America. Tom had learned not to listen. He loved Elsie, but she talked enough for four people.

      He shut the front door and thought it could do with a lick of paint. The whole house could do with a lick of paint. There just weren’t enough hours in the day, Tom decided as he got into the van. McDonnell’s Electrical Services said the writing on the side. It had been a big step to set up his own business. That was five years ago. Now, he was always busy. But money was still tight. Every time he looked, the twins needed new clothes or new shoes. Kim’s car needed replacing. It would fall apart one of these days. He might buy a lottery ticket with his lunch.

      ‘What’s wrong, Mother?’ asked Kim when Tom was gone.

      She knew that something was wrong with her mother. Elsie’s face was white under its dusting of pinky face powder. She had said no to a second cup of tea, an unheard of happening. She had stared into space for ages. Even worse, she hadn’t given out to the twins about their loud music. Rows about music made up most of the arguments in the house.

      ‘Nothing’s wrong,’ said Elsie. She drained the rest of her cold tea.

      ‘Mother,’ warned Kim, ‘I’m not blind. Please tell me what’s wrong.’

      Elsie knew it was time to be honest. ‘This came this morning.’ She handed the letter to her daughter.

      Kim read it carefully. Her face got grimmer with each word. ‘Aunt Maisie has a nerve!’ she said when she had finished. She was furious. There was no room in their house for two American visitors. There was no room for any visitor. They only had three bedrooms. Where did Aunt Maisie think the Americans would sleep? In the garden? On the roof with next-door’s ginger cat?

      ‘What’s wrong?’ asked Laura, her mouth full of muesli.

      Kim’s voice was furious. ‘Your aunt Maisie in Chicago has told us that Charlene is coming to stay. In late August, and with a friend.’

      ‘Cool!’ said Emer. She had never met her American cousin. She wondered if Charlene would look like a movie star. American teenagers on television all looked like movie stars. They never seemed to have spots or puppy fat, and they all had long legs and tanned skin. Emer dreamed about having long, long legs and tanned skin instead of pale Irish skin.

      ‘Where will they sleep?’ asked Laura. She was the practical one.

      ‘I don’t know where they’ll sleep!’ Kim was still angry. ‘This is a small house. Why does Aunt Maisie think we have room for two guests?’

      Elsie bit her lip.

      ‘I think that’s my fault,’ Elsie said in a small voice.

      The eight o’clock news began on the radio.

      ‘Blast. We’re going to be late,’ said Kim crossly. She always left before the news. ‘Come on, girls, you’ll be late too if you don’t get a move on.’ Kim quickly shoved the breakfast dishes in the sink. ‘I’ll do them tonight,’ she told her mother. ‘And then you can tell me what this is all about.’

      The school where she worked was very near the twins’ school, so she dropped them off every morning. Emer and Laura always fought about who sat in the front of the car. The Mini was nearly twenty years old and the back seat was uncomfortable. This morning, they didn’t discuss where they’d sit. They knew that their normally easygoing mother was in a rare temper. Laura hopped quietly in the back.

      ‘I bet your grandmother has been inviting Maisie’s family to stay with us for years, without telling me!’ Kim raged. ‘I don’t want them turning up here. I’ve never met them in my life! We can do without rich relatives landing here.’

      The twins said nothing.

      Laura wondered what it must be like for Gran to have a sister she hadn’t seen for over forty years. Gran had told her about growing up on the farm in Leitrim. She and Maisie had been the youngest in a big family. There was a year between them, so they were almost like twins.