There was an egg for just one baby, but then it split into two and was Callyro. 

Callyro means us, and it’s our language with each other. I don’t remember when it began.  
You used to burble at each other on your playmat, Mum tells us. You always talked to each other.  

Saka means good in Callyro. If something’s really, really good, it’s mamasaka. Bad things are choomil. Lacallyro is me and Docallyro is her. 

Mum worries about us talking callyro. She says we can’t do it in school. She tried to get us to stop using it when anyone else is there too. But it’s how we talk to each other.  

Oh my God, you’re twins! people tell us. Oh wow, you’re identical!  

Yes, this is Helen, and Sarah, Mum tells people.  

Ms O’Reilly said could we please wear bracelets or something with the letter of our names. She wanted us to sit at different tables and we didn’t want to, but she talked to Mum and said it was best for our development. She put our names on the tables, Sarah and Helen. She calls us both pet unless we’re sitting in our places. Ms O’Reilly is Tarasu. Tarasu-mamachoomil after she made us go at different tables. Some days I sit at the Sarah place and Sarah sits at the Helen place.  

Lacallyro Docallyro taba? I ask her on the way to school. Will I be Sarah today? 

Caa. Masaka.  She says. Yes, very good.  

You’re two different people, Mum says. You need to be yourselves apart a bit, as well as together. 

We’re each half of a whole. When we get tired of switching places, we just go and sit at the same table. When Ms. O’Reilly tries to get us to move away from each other, we hold hands and chant Rak rak rak nooba, rak nooba, rak rak rak nooba. No, no, no moving. We don’t stop until Ms. O’Reilly says we can stay there today, but she’ll have to see about tomorrow. Her face is red. At home time, Ms. O’Reilly asks if she can have a chat with Mum.  

Alright, girls. Mum’s voice is tired. You can sit beside each other, but no more Callyro in school, okay?  

We go to our room and shout Callyro ha ha Callyro caa! Callyro La-callyro! Callyro Do-callyro! Callyro mamasaka!  

Sam’s mum asks us which is which, sorry girls, you’ll have to remind me. I say I’m Sarah. Sarah says she’s Helen. Sam’s mum is careful to use our names the rest of the time that we’re at Sam’s house. When Mum comes to pick us up, Sam’s mum uses our names, and Mum corrects her. 

Actually, Sinead, that’s Helen in the blue t-shirt.  

Helen? You told me you were Sarah.  

Oh, girls. Says Mum. That’s not very nice.  

On the way home Mum says that when people make an effort to treat us as two people, it’s not good manners to play tricks on them.  

Ura haha saka, mutters Helen. But it’s funny.  

Ma haha saka, I agree. We don’t want people to treat us as two people. 

How are my girls? says Dad.

Call them by their names, says Mum crossly, it’s bad enough people who don’t know them won’t stop calling them the twins. 

I meant all my girls, says Dad, giving Mum a hug, and making a funny face at us behind her back so we laugh. Dad doesn’t care if people call us the twins, and he doesn’t mind callyro.  

We always eat the same meal as each other. We like pasta with cheese, but not tomato sauce. I like bacon, but Helen doesn’t so we don’t eat it. One day I have an idea. 

We get bacon. I tell her in Callyro. Lacallyro eats two bacon. Docallyro doesn’t eat the bacon. 

She thinks about it.  

Saka. She agrees.  

We like bacon now. She tells Mum. We want to have it for dinner. 

We’re having cottage pie for dinner, but you can have bacon tomorrow.  

The next day, Mum serves us our plates, all the same like always. We eat, cutting and chomping. I eat my bacon first, then swap plates with Helen, in a flash. I’m like a conjuror. 

We giggle as I eat Helen’s bacon.  

What’s up with you two? says Mum, but she’s smiling.  

Every time we have bacon, we swap, quick like lightning.  

Helen doesn’t like sausages anymore either, she tells me. I eat both the little snack sausages we get in our lunchboxes. When we have sausages at home, we swap plates. Swapping plates is called Lacallyro magup.  

Helen stops eating meat. Why don’t I stop eating meat too? I ask. We can’t do Lacallyro magup all the time. Mum’ll notice.  
She won’t, says Helen. It’s true, she doesn’t sit down with us to eat  much.  

We’re having pasta with pesto and lots of cheese. Helen picks at it until I’m finished my meal, and she gives me her plate.  
Ura Docallyro rak mag? I say. But Helen doesn’t eat? 

Docally rak go mag, she says. Not hungry. I take the plate, and eat half of the pasta on it.

Not hungry, pet? says Mum when she sees the plate in front of me.  

That’s all I want, thanks.  

Alright, love.  

In school, I eat what I want from both our lunchboxes. I eat the sandwiches in my lunchbox. I eat the yoghurt in my lunchbox and the one in Helen’s. I eat the apple in mine. Helen eats the apple from hers. She throws half of the sandwiches left in her lunchbox in the bin, and divides the other half between our two lunchboxes. We’ve always had everything the same.  
At Anita’s birthday party, there are cupcakes and rice crispie treats and crisps. We both take a packet of crisps. We open them. I eat mine, and Helen holds her bag and pretends to eat some. When I finish she takes the empty bag, and hands me her bag. She goes to put the crisp bag in the bin. She takes a cupcake from the table. It has swirls of yellow icing, with little star-shaped sprinkles. Yum, Helen says. Anita’s mum smiles at her. Helen comes back to me. She carefully peels off the paper around the cupcake and tastes the icing. Mmm, so good! She says loudly. Anita’s mum is pouring cordial out. Helen gives me the cupcake. Callyro ha ha. 

Ha ha callyro, I say, because I always do. But I didn’t want a cupcake with the icing licked. Not even by Helen. I can’t put it in the bin, because Anita’s mum will see me. I eat the cupcake. It would taste better if it was just mine.  

This game is not fun anymore.  

They really liked the cupcakes, says Anita’s mum, when Mum comes to pick us up.  

At dinner when I’ve eaten my food, Helen says Lacallyro magup? And gets ready to swap plates.  

Rak. I say Rak taba. No. Not today. I hold onto my plate.  

Helen just smiles. She quickly picks up her plate and tips half her food onto mine. A potato rolls onto the floor. Mum sees the potato fall, but not the change of food. 

That goes in the compost, girls, she calls. She doesn’t ask which of us let it fall. 

Helen picks up the potato from the floor and puts it in the little green compost bin next to the sink. 

 I eat the other potato on my plate, and the piece of chicken. I leave the broccoli. I already ate my piece of broccoli. 

On Sunday we go to Granny and Grandad’s for lunch. Granny makes a big roast beef lunch with Yorkshire pudding and gravy and peas and cabbage. We all eat around the big table. At Willow Avenue you have to eat everything on your plate including vegetables or you don’t get any dessert. Granny says My house, my rules. We get small amounts of peas and cabbage. We love crispy roast potatoes and the meat with gravy. Nobody notices that Helen just eats some of the peas really slowly. Grandad is telling everyone about the neighbour who died because he got a stroke. Everyone is looking at him. Helen pushes our plates together and spoons her potatoes over. She carefully picks up her slice of meat, gooey with gravy, and lets it down on my side. Mum spots her doing it. I freeze, but Mum smiles. She thinks Helen is sharing with me because I like meat more. We used to share back and forth like that. Helen eats her cabbage. 

Come on, Sarah, says Granny, as I eat the second slice of meat. Everybody’s finished, and there’s chocolate cake for after. 

Take your time, darling, says Mum. 

Helen nibbles at her slice of chocolate cake, then says she’s full.  

Fine then, says Granny, annoyed. Helen can have your cake. 

That is Helen, says Mum, more annoyed. I think Sarah’s had enough.  

Granny looks like she’s going to say something about why don’t we each have a colour that we wear. Grandad says that the weather’s been very changeable the last while and he thinks he put the nasturtium seedlings out too early.  Mum stops looking at Granny, and turns to Grandad.  

Yes, it’s been really unpredictable, I don’t know how to dress Helen and Sarah every morning. 

Grandad gives us each a bag of jelly sweets when we’re going home, and gives us a wink. 

Danda masaka. I say to Helen when we’re in our seats in the car. Danda mamasaka she agrees, but she gives me her bag of sweets. 

We get big baggy jumpers that we ask for. We have to cover up so nobody notices that Helen is skinnier than me now. We were always been exactly the same; now there are little differences. The bones in her neck stand out. We tell Mum we don’t want her to come in when we’re in the bath anymore because we’re big girls. If we stand and look in the mirror now, we don’t see the same as if we turn to each other. Not really Callyro, two halves of the whole. I don’t like it.  

Helen tries to give me her lasagne and I hunch over my plate, not letting her do it. She drops the lasagne on my arms and I yelp. I can feel sticky sauce above my eyebrow. 

What’s going on?  

I don’t want her lasagne, I say. Helen gives me a furious look.  

Don’t throw food, Helen. Mum looks as though she’s going to let it go. 

She doesn’t eat her food, I say. She never eats her food anymore. She gives it to me. She can’t give it to me anymore. I start to cry. 

Mum looks confused. Helen screams, a thin high wail that we’ve never made before. I keep crying.  

She doesn’t eat lunch. She didn’t eat any cupcakes or crisps at the birthdays. I shout it through sobs.  

What?  

Helen is still screaming like I’ve stabbed her. We have never been on different sides before.  

Mum doesn’t know what to do. She picks Helen up gently, and tries to cuddle her in her lap, but Helen resists and runs out of the kitchen. We hear the slam of our bedroom door. 

Mum picks me up and hauls me into her lap. I stay there and snuggle. I have hiccups from crying. Mum puts her arms around me, and lifts me a little in her lap, then puts me down.  

She holds me tight in her arms and makes a little sound like uuh, a little scared cry. After a few minutes holding me, she takes her arms away, and looks at me. 

What did you say before, love? About Helen eating? 

Everything changes after that. Helen forgives me eventually, but we never speak Callyro again.