It was deathly silent for about a half a second before there were the sounds of a scuffle.

“I’ll kill you!” Alexander swore.

“Go fuck yourself!”

A crowd of birds shot up past the kitchen window just as the impact of somebody's body slammed into the side of the house and caused the glass to rattle. Grunts and muttered curses filled my ears. I heard a series of thuds like somebody slamming a raw steak on to a counter top. It took me a second to realise it was the sound of fists pounding flesh.

“Boys! Stop it right now or I’ll tell your father!” Ana screamed as she raced for the door. “Boys! I mean it! Stop it before you hurt each other!”

As I followed her to the door and peered out into the garden. I saw Alexander lift Oliver up from around the waist in a rugby style take down. Ollie was pounding the back of his head with short, rapid blows, as if he were trying to punch his brains through his skull and out by way of his face.

Alexander roared from deep in his throat. They were words that came from him, but to be honest, it sounded like only one. He screamed, “FLABBERDUFT!” as he slammed Oliver on to the concrete and brought his fist down on him.

What he said may have been in Welsh. I don't know, but Ana screamed and there was a terrible crash from the boys’ direction simultaneous to me banging into her in an effort to get out there and save my boyfriend from the murderous hands of his brother. Ana and I both tumbled on to the patio.

“Boys!” Ana was powerless and she knew it. She stood with her arms stuck out at her sides and her mouth in a death cringe, “Oh, no!”

We rushed toward them. For just a second, everything was still. The garbage bins were turned over. Rubbish was scattered everywhere. Oliver was lying flat on his back with hands over his face and his eyes pinched shut. Alexander was leaned over him, his fist still clenched.

“Get up, you little cunt!” He snarled.

“Fuck off!” Oliver’s reply was muffled through his hands. He looked up and stared up into his brother's eyes, but made no move to fight him. Blood oozed around his fingers.

Ana gasped, “Alexander! What did you do to him?”

“I gave him what he had coming!”

Ana dropped down beside her fallen son, “Oliver! Are you hurt?”

“No! Of course I‘m not bloody hurt!” He waved her off, “Step off me, Woman!”

She stood and took a few steps back.

Oliver lowered his hand to reveal a blood smeared face. There was a stream of blood coming out of one nostril. He wiped it across his cheek and looked hard at his brother. For a long moment, he sat and said nothing. Then he finally spoke. “You could’ve hit me harder than that! What are you? Some kind of pansy?”

“I knocked you flat!”

“You hit like a girl!” Oliver pulled on his teeth as if to make sure they were still secure and then licked his lips. He wiped his nose again.

“A girl? Me? You’re the one lying on the ground bleeding!” Alex stood up and cradled his still tender, once broken wrist. He winced.

“Lucky!” Oliver dabbed at his nose again with his sleeve. His top lip was visibly swollen. “If I hadn’t been off balance I would have had you! It’d be you on the ground bleeding!”

“Like hell! I hit you square in the face! I split your lip wide open!”

“Then why is it that my nose is the thing bleeding?”

“It’s your nose and your mouth!”

Oliver climbed to his feet, “No, it’s not!” He swore, even though it was, “It’s just the one side of my nose! You’re a pixie! I swear! Next time you hit somebody hit them hard enough to break something!”

“I’ll hit you again if you like.” Alex offered, rubbing the fingers on his hand that had been taped. I could see the orbit of his right eye beginning to darken and swell.

“You’ll just hurt your ickle witty hand again,” Ollie sneered. He climbed to his feet and pressed a hand up to his ear, shaking his head against it.

“Oh, piss off! “Alexander gave him a shove as he walked past.

“See! Attacking me from the rear, you are!” Oliver looked over at his mother, blood pouring down his handsome face, “Did you see that, Woman? Your son shoving me from the rear? It’s you who raised him to be a…” He turned back to his brother, “A… great…” Oliver seemed to be searching for the proper insult. He shook his head, unable to find it. He settled on, “…cowardly bastard.”

“A great cowardly bastard?” Alex winced and held his ribs with a contorted arm.

“It’s a fair cup!” Oliver replied. “Alexander the Nancy Boy, the Great Cowardly Bastard! Now go put your high heels on and I’ll have Silvia take you dancing!”

Alexander laughed loudly and put his hand on his brother’s back.

“You called me a cunt!” Oliver chuckled as they disappeared together into the house. “I can’t bloody believe it! Filthy gob you have!”

“Sorry. You know I didn’t mean that.”

“It’s all right. I called you a whiney little bitch. We’re even.”

And just like that the problem with them was settled. It was over and done with and the two of them were as good as new, best mates and brothers as always.

I wondered why it hadn’t happened sooner, but I knew the answer. It had a name. Pennyweather.

Ana and I stood staring at each other in the silence that followed their exit. It was at that moment she offered me the best advice she ever would. “Don’t try to make sense of them, Dear,” She patted my shoulder kindly, “Don’t even try. Just accept them both for who they are and have the courage to love them anyway.”

Those were words I lived by for more or less the rest of my life.

The boys and I spent our summer as we had the one before, them working during the week and Oliver and I rushing North and South across Wales to see each other any chance we got. Alexander came and went as he always did and we occasionally caught up with Lucy, who had her own pressing social schedule. When we did the four of us did meet up, we took flight in whatever direction fit our fancy. It was that summer that the twins and I were seventeen and that summer they decided it was time for me to learn to drive a car.

I’d never been behind the wheel of a car before. I didn’t know how to turn on the lamps, much less where the gears were. In fact, I had no idea that cars even had indicators to show which way they were turning. Alex found this extremely entertaining and sat laughing at me for a good ten minutes as the car lurched and died, lurched and died, and just sometimes just plain died.

“Shut up, Alex! You‘re not helping!” Lucy scolded, “You can do it, Silvia! Try again!”

“OK, you’re letting up too fast,” Oliver told me gently, leaning toward me and motioning at the pedals with is hand, “Let up on the clutch slowly until you feel it tug and then accelerate gently...that’s it...all right, now depress the clutch again and shift...good job, Sil! Now let up slowly and accelerate...shift…excellent, Love! Now do it again! Hooray! We’re moving!”

Lucy cheered. Alexander let loose in the back seat with a mighty, “Yeeeeeee-haw!” that sent me into a fit of giggles. But I drove. Without a proper license to be doing it, I drove their mother’s car from Abergavenny to Welshpool, stopping at the park behind their house to switch drivers so that Ana never found out what we’d done.

It was that summer that I developed something in myself that I’d never possessed before. It was confidence, the knowledge and the sincere belief that there wasn’t a thing in the world I couldn’t accomplish. I’d always known that I was bright. I’d always known that I could learn anything and get better marks in school than most, but I’d never been able to actually do anything. I’d never been given the chance to try. I’d honestly never thought to ask if I might try.

That night, Oliver and I went off by ourselves to the park after dark. I sat in front of him, leaned against his chest, and we looked at the stars.