The woman’s voice yelling from behind the door of one of the flats echoed through the entire stairwell.
At that moment Lucy and James were heading up the stairs. They stopped short as if they had run into a brick wall. Their eyes met for a second and no words were needed. Both knew straight away it was best to turn back. They let out matching sighs, spun around and slipped away from the building without a sound. There was no chance they were heading home that night.
Nobody wants to sit through another evening of parents rowing non-stop. The pair strode straight to the next block where their gran Elizabeth lived. Her place had turned into their bolt hole. What used to be weekend visits had become almost nightly stays.
Things at home had become impossible to bear. The parents seemed to have forgotten everything else and just shouted at each other without pause. Worst of all they kept trying to drag the children into the middle of it.
Mum would spin round to Lucy and demand to know if she was right. Dad would cut in before any answer came and ask James to back him up instead. The twins stayed quiet. They had no interest in picking sides or getting pulled into the endless rows. All they wanted was a bit of quiet and warmth, the sort they only found at gran’s.
The same pattern played out every day like a stuck record nobody would switch off. The children had learned to spot the warning signs from the tone of voice or the way a door slammed. Any talk could flip into a blazing row in seconds. No child wants to live waiting for the next explosion.
They still could not work out what had set the whole thing off. The family had never been picture perfect but the parents used to talk things through. Rows happened now and then yet they ended with calm chats over tea and plans for the weekend. That all stopped about two years back. It felt as if someone had swapped the old mum and dad for new versions who picked fights over nothing. A mug left on the table became a lecture on respect. A shirt on the wrong peg turned into a speech about order. A spoon in the sink was treated like a crime.
One evening Lucy sat at the kitchen table at gran’s stirring her tea. She watched the swirls in the cup for a long time before she spoke.
“How did it get like this, gran? It all started after their holiday together. What went wrong?”
Elizabeth set her own cup down and rested a hand on Lucy’s arm. She had her own guesses about the split and none of them were cheerful.
“Adults sort these things out in their own time,” she said gently. “Sometimes folk need space to decide what comes next.”
Lucy nodded but the doubt stayed in her eyes. She knew gran was holding something back yet she let it drop. There was no point pushing when they still saw her as a kid.
“We can’t stand the shouting any longer,” James burst out. “Can’t finish homework or read in peace. I can’t even remember the last time we ate together as a family. If they can’t stand each other they should split up and be done with it.”
The words came out raw but they matched exactly how things had been for months. James spoke for both of them. Home had lost all peace. One sharp word from mum and dad would snap back and another row would fill every corner.
“James,” Elizabeth said, setting her knitting aside. She looked at him hard. “Have you thought what happens after a divorce? You two would be split up. Are you ready to live apart from your sister?”
“We’ll stay with you,” Lucy answered at once, eyes pleading. “We’re here most of the time already. You don’t mind, do you?”
Elizabeth went still. She saw how worn out they both were and how badly they needed calm. Having them here would keep them safe with quiet for schoolwork and no fear of raised voices. She loved them fiercely and would give them that. Yet she also wondered how to explain it to their parents and whether it would drive a permanent wedge between them all.
“Let’s not decide in a rush,” she said after a long breath. “You know you’re always welcome. First let’s try talking to your mum and dad. Maybe the four of us can find a better way.”
“Don’t worry, we’ll speak to them,” Lucy said, brightening. “Just don’t turn us down. We really can’t stay there. And it would be kinder if they lived apart before one of them actually hurts the other. I saw dad raise his hand at mum yesterday. He didn’t hit her but he came close.”
She stopped, seeing the kitchen doorway again. Dad’s arm had jerked up, mum had flinched, and that frozen second had felt endless.
“Gran please say yes,” James added, taking her hand. “We’ll help with everything around the house. Just don’t send us back. They don’t even notice us. Yesterday I told dad about a parents’ evening and he said go ask mum. So I did. Mum told me to go ask dad. Then they spent two hours yelling across the hallway about who should go while I just stood there.”
“I asked them both to sign a form for a school trip,” Lucy said, twisting her sleeve. “Now I’m the only one in class who can’t go because neither signed it. Instead they argued whose job it was.”
Elizabeth watched the pair and saw the deep tiredness in them, the kind that comes from month after month of tension instead of comfort.
“It’s always the same,” James muttered, shoulders dropping. “Anything we ask turns into another fight. We don’t even want to come home. The other night we got in at eleven and they just told us to go to bed without asking where we’d been. Later they blamed each other for bad parenting.”
The twins sighed together. Lately they had started to think divorce was the only escape. Yet the idea of being separated scared them just as much. One would end up with mum, one with dad, and the closeness they had always shared would shrink to weekend visits.
They had gone over every option in whispers at night. Once James joked about grabbing bags and running away. Lucy took it seriously for a moment and said maybe they should, even for a couple of days. That was when they both realised how bad things had got. Then the idea hit them at the same time: move in with gran. Her place was calm, she never shouted, and there would be room. They pictured quiet breakfasts, homework without interruption, and board games in the evening. No more hiding from rows. For the first time in ages they felt a flicker of hope. Let the parents fix their own mess. The twins would have peace at last.
“Mum, dad, we need to talk properly,” the twins said together when both parents were home. They had waited until evening and walked into the living room. Lucy kept hold of James’s hand for steadiness. “But promise you’ll hear us out before you say anything.”
Michael set his phone down and stared. Sarah stopped folding laundry and sat up straight.
“This is your fault,” she snapped at Michael. “The children are giving us orders now.”
“Listen to yourself,” he shot back. “I’m out working all day to keep this family going. You were here with them. Look what they’ve learned.”
The twins glanced at each other. They had expected the usual blame game but they held their ground.
“Stop it,” Lucy said, voice tight. “We’ve decided you two should get divorced.”
The room went dead quiet. Sarah’s mouth stayed open. Michael rose slowly from the sofa.
“This is new,” she said in a hard voice. “Lucy you’re far too young to tell us how to run our lives. What else have you planned? Split the flat while you’re at it?”
“If you don’t divorce we’ll go to social services,” James said, gripping his sister’s hand. “Dad, you could lose your job over the scandal. You always said reputation matters at the firm.”
“And you, mum,” Lucy went on, looking straight at her, “the neighbours will stop talking to you once they hear the full story.”
“They’re threatening us,” Sarah said, looking from one to the other. “These are our children. How can they speak to us like this?”
“We’re not threatening,” James answered. “We’re just tired of the shouting and of being ignored. Simple requests turn into wars. We want out.”
“You’ll divorce and move apart,” they said together. “We’ll live with gran. It’ll be better for everyone. We won’t be stuck in the middle any more.”
For once the parents had no quick reply. They usually jumped straight into accusations but now both sat stunned. Their thirteen-year-old twins stood hand in hand and spoke about things the adults had tried to ignore. Michael and Sarah had thought about divorce themselves but always stopped at the question of who would take the children. Splitting the twins felt wrong. They were always together. The idea of gran had never crossed their minds until now. Maybe it was the answer. Gran loved them, her flat was big, and she would keep them safe.
“I’ll ring my mother,” Michael said at last. “If she agrees…”
Sarah cut in before he finished. Weariness filled her voice. “Then we can stop hurting each other. Call her. I’ll be glad not to see your face every morning.”
The words hung there. She had not meant to sound so sharp but years of hurt had pushed them out.
“And I’ll be glad too,” Michael answered with a tired half-smile that hid the sting.
He pulled out his phone and dialled. Neither looked at the other while it rang. They both sensed something had shifted and there might be no going back.
That day the Bennett family reached a turning point. It began with Michael’s long talk with his mother. Elizabeth listened without interrupting, only asking a few questions. When he finished she took a deep breath.
“If you both believe this is best for the children then I agree. They’ll be safe here and I’ll look after them.”
By evening Michael and Sarah sat in the kitchen without shouting for the first time in ages. They talked through the details and agreed divorce was the only sensible step. The twins would move to gran’s and the parents would send money each month for their keep. Both promised to visit on alternate weekends so the children would not feel abandoned. They would keep contact between themselves to a minimum and never argue in front of the kids.
“We’re still their parents,” Michael said. “That doesn’t change.”
Time proved the choice worked. The twins finally relaxed. Lucy joined an art club she had always wanted. James took up football and made new mates. They walked the city, went to films and talked about school without waiting for the next row to start. Schoolwork improved because they had quiet space to concentrate. Teachers noticed and said they seemed far more focused.
Life settled into something steady if not perfect. The children stopped flinching at every noise and simply got on with being teenagers who had found a safe place.
Five years on the Bennett household ran on an even keel. Lucy and James were used to the routine of college, clubs and evenings with gran. The parents still visited on separate days with presents but no complaints. Over time they had learned to speak politely when they did meet.
The first real contact between the former couple came at the twins’ graduation. Both turned up and sat apart at first. During the dancing Michael walked over to Sarah.
“Shall we have one dance for old times?”
She paused then nodded. Afterwards they sat in the school yard watching the others and the talk flowed easily from the children to old memories. They kept it civil and focused on good times. Lucy and James watched from a distance and felt relief mixed with old pain.
The next day the parents asked the twins to a café. Over tea they held hands and Michael smiled.
“We’ve decided to remarry. We still love each other and want to try again.”
Lucy and James looked at one another. Their faces closed up. The same mistakes all over again. Could the parents really live together without fighting?
“Are you serious?” Lucy asked.
“Completely,” Michael said. “We’ve changed. We want to give it another go.”
The twins stayed silent. Part of them hoped it might work, part feared the old pain returning. They offered no comment. Sarah looked hurt.
“Aren’t you pleased? We thought you’d be happy.”
The twins just shrugged. There was nothing safe to say. The rest of the meal stayed awkward and on the way home Lucy murmured to James that she hoped the parents knew what they were doing. James only sighed.
“So we’re heading to London?” Lucy said, opening her laptop to check university sites. “Far enough away from all this. I can already picture how it will end.”
“Of course we are,” James answered. Tiredness beyond his years showed in his voice. “They’ll manage a month or two at most. Then the shouting and door slamming will start again. I won’t be caught in their rows any longer. I don’t want to wake up every morning wondering whose turn it is to be blamed.”
He paced the room gathering books. The same thought kept circling: why do adults who should know better keep repeating the same mistakes instead of fixing things?
“We need to get out,” he said at the window as dusk turned the city orange. “Far enough that their fights can’t touch us. Let them deal with it. We’re not their go-betweens any more. We have our own lives and dreams and I won’t let them wreck them.”
“When are we sending the forms?” Lucy asked.
“Tomorrow,” James said at once. “Before we change our minds.”
She nodded and kept scrolling through London university pages. Lists of courses, halls and job chances filled her notebook.
“The main thing is to study without their dramas getting in the way,” she said. “Good we’ll be so far off.”
“Exactly,” James agreed. “When they start blaming each other again we won’t even hear the calls. They can try to drag us into another family summit but we’re done. Their second chance is their business, not ours.”
Sarah and Michael did remarry in a quiet registry office ceremony followed by a small dinner with close family and friends. No big fuss. In the photos they looked content, holding hands and smiling. The twins wondered if this time might be different.
It was not. The first weeks were calm but old habits crept back within a month. Quiet digs turned into open rows over wet towels or forgotten shopping. Voices rose and pauses between fights grew shorter. Two months later an argument about groceries ended with Michael flinging a cup at the wall and Sarah smashing a plate on the floor.
Afterwards the parents rang the twins in tears to complain. Lucy and James learned to cut the calls short with polite excuses about lectures or work. The calls grew rarer and the twins felt no guilt. They were protecting their own peace.
They built lives that had nothing to do with the old rows. Lucy studied psychology and volunteered with teenagers from difficult homes, giving them the support she had once needed. James threw himself into programming, joined hackathons and took a part-time job at a small tech firm where he did well. They talked about Lucy opening a counselling practice and James starting his own company. Over tea they made plans and felt they finally had something that belonged only to them.
When the parents tried again to pull them into their troubles the twins answered together.
“Sort it out between yourselves,” Lucy said. “You have your life and we have ours.”
“But we’re your parents,” Sarah cried. “You should stand by us.”
“If you acted like adults instead of children we might,” James replied. “You chose to remarry and now you keep hurting each other. You can’t live together so stop making yourselves and everyone else miserable. Get divorced and live apart.”
The words were blunt but the brother and sister simply wanted calm.
