Jack looked up at his mother as she at reading, it was evening now and the fire warmed the room, Andrew was a sleep in his cot in his bedroom up stairs. Jack wondered as he had since she had returned what his father was like and why he had left. He felt inside these questions festering like a virus inside him. The more he thought about it, the more he wanted to ask her. While she was not there it had been easy to ignore it but now she was back in his life he could not ignore the fact that he must have had one, but why did she not talk of him. Surly any mother should be proud of the man who gave her a son.
Jack stood from where he now sat and moved to the fire place leaning on it he glance over at her he could see she watched him too waiting for the inevitable question she knew he would ask and he would given the right time.
Folding his arms across his chest he slowly turned to face her that time had come and he wanted answers “mother who is my father?” he said coming out right with his question to her , he saw the look on her face as she just looked up at him but then back to her book. He grew annoyed she had chose to ignore his question and walked over taking the book from her closing it an placing it on the table next to her “I will ask again and I want to know, you disappeared leaving me alone in an orphanage I think I should at lest i need to be told that” he stepped back from her waiting for her to speak, to ether deny anything she would tell him or to tell him what he wanted to know so finally he would know who his father was.
by 
