Letter from Chicago. Cathy Kelly

       To Mum With love

      Chapter One

      Elsie loved letters from Chicago. She adored the fat envelopes with their colourful American stamps. Even the postmarks looked exotic and exciting.

      On the first Monday in March, the postman arrived early with a letter from Chicago. As usual, Elsie was the first person up in the McDonnell house. She was making a cup of tea in the kitchen when she heard the postman.

      She put down the milk carton and went slowly into the hall to collect the post. Elsie went everywhere slowly. She was sixty-five and had arthritis. Sometimes, every part of her body ached. This morning, only her hands were sore. It had taken her ages to turn on the tap to fill the kettle. Tom, her son-in-law, said he’d get her a special yoke to help her turn the tap on. But Elsie had said no. She wasn’t an invalid. She didn’t want to be treated like one.

      There was only one letter on the mat in the hall and it was for her.

      Smiling, she went back into the kitchen. She sat at the kitchen table to read her letter. From upstairs, she could hear the Monday morning sounds of everyone else getting up.

      Kim was begging the twins to get out of bed.

      ‘I won’t let you watch television on Sunday nights if you can’t get up for school next morning,’ she warned.

      She said the same thing every Monday morning. She was too soft on those girls, Elsie thought.

      But then, Kim was soft on everyone. Elsie had no idea how Kim managed to keep a class of eight-year-olds under control in St Mary’s Primary School.

      Elsie heard Tom stomping into the bathroom. He was a big man and made as much noise as an elephant.

      Next, the twins turned their CD player on. Loud music could be heard all over the house.

      ‘Turn that music down!’ roared Tom. ‘I have a headache!’

      Emer roared back that it wasn’t loud at all. Didn’t he like The Corrs?

      Satisfied that everything was normal in the McDonnell house, Elsie began to read the letter from her sister in Chicago. Maisie had gone to America forty-five years before. But she wrote home every month. They talked about their families in the letters. Elsie loved hearing about Maisie’s two children and her four grandchildren. In turn, she wrote happily about her three children. She had six grandchildren, two more than Maisie. Elsie was pleased about that.

      Dear Elsie,

      I have the most amazing news for you. Charleen is going to visit you in Ireland in the last week of August. Isn’t that exciting? She wants to meet all the family. I can’t tell you how happy I am that my granddaughter is going to visit Dublin.

      I told Charleen she’d be welcome to stay with you. Her friend is going with her as they are only eighteen. I hope I did the right thing …

      Elsie stopped reading and took a shaky sip of tea. She was stunned. No, it was worse than that. She was shocked, really shocked. What ever was she going to do?

      Kim McDonnell was the last person to get into the bathroom. That was the routine. Tom used it first. He left towels on the floor no matter what Kim said. He didn’t mean to, she knew that. It was his upbringing. Tom had been born into a house with four older sisters and an adoring mother. When he’d married Kim, he’d never washed up after a meal in his life. He had to be told how to use the washing machine. He still thought you could wash black clothes with white clothes.

      The twins used the bathroom after Tom. They left more towels on the floor and forgot to close the shampoo bottle properly. They wasted loads of shampoo that way.

      ‘Ah Mum, don’t nag,’ they would say when she complained.

      They were studying for their exams. As a teacher, Kim knew that it was important not to upset kids before big exams.

      ‘Young people doing exams need to have a calm home life,’ said all the experts.

      Kim liked a calm home life herself. It wasn’t easy to feel calm with two fifteen-year-olds in the house. The exams were in three months and Kim couldn’t wait for them to be over. In August, the whole family was going to Brittas to stay in a mobile home for three weeks. Kim thought about relaxing in the sun and not having to go to work. She thought about nice meals on the deck outside the mobile home and no screaming children to teach. Roll on August.

      She had a quick shower and washed her long, dark hair. She didn’t bother drying it. Instead, she brushed it neatly and tied it back with a band. She put on a bit of lipstick and mascara. Kim never used much make-up.

      Tom said she didn’t need it.

      ‘You’re lovely as you are,’ he’d say, kissing her.

      Tom was an awful liar, Kim thought with a smile. She wasn’t bad looking. She had big dark eyes, creamy pale skin and nice hair. But she wasn’t Julia Roberts.

      People who looked like Julia Roberts didn’t have to work long hours to pay the mortgage. They didn’t worry about money or about the children doing well at school. They went to parties in big cars and bought expensive clothes. Kim buttoned up the pink blouse she had bought in Dunnes for twenty-five euro. Still, she was happy.

      The twins listened to their new Corrs

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