I followed my son out of my consulting room and into the kitchen, where Louisa was seated at the table, sipping a cup of tea. Her worried eyes flicked first to James and then settled on me.

"How is he?" she asked.

"Lucky. Some contusions and abrasions and of course the black eye. Nothing that won't heal completely in a week or so."

She sighed loudly. "Thank goodness."

I too was relieved. Not only had our son escaped serious injury but, according to Mr. Gladstone, so had the other boy. I'd seen more than a few schoolyard fistfights result in concussions, broken bones, and deep lacerations that required sutures. And, even worse, fights where one or both parties decided to pull a knife.

I pointed James to a chair. "Take a seat." I nodded at Louisa, letting her know that she should take the lead, before sitting down next to her, both of us facing our son.

"James," Louisa started, "why were you fighting with Ben Carstairs?"

As she spoke, I tried to remember Ben Carstairs. The name was familiar as a patient but I couldn't pick him out in my mind from of the dozens of boys who'd made their way through my surgery at one time or another.

James shook his head sullenly. "I don't want to talk about it."

"Well, we're going to talk about it, young man," Louisa said. "Mr. Gladstone said you started the fight. Why James? Did Ben say or do something to you?"

I noted that Louisa was doing her best to remain calm when I knew that, inside, she was hurt and angry and frustrated. We both were. Until now, James had amassed an exemplary record in school. There'd been a handful of minor infractions for things such as chewing gum in class and, once, for talking back to his teacher. Louisa had assured me this was normal for boys his age.

But never anything like this. Not only had he gotten himself involved in an altercation with another student, but from what Louisa had learned, it appeared our son had actually initiated the fight.

James remained stubbornly silent.

"James, answer your mother," I said, giving him a stern look.

He shook his head. "It doesn't matter why I did it. I'm going to get in trouble no matter what."

While our son's assessment of the situation was probably accurate, we both knew that it was important to understand why our normally well-behaved child had suddenly decided to use his fists to sort out some disagreement. That conduct couldn't continue and, until we learned what had precipitated his actions today, we'd have little chance to prevent the situation from recurring.

Louisa tried again. "Something obviously upset you enough to hit one of your friends."

"Ben's not my friend! Not anymore."

"Why not, James? He used to be one of your best friends. What happened today?"

Our son continued to remain quiet, staring down at his bandaged hand. Louisa and I exchanged a look that said this wasn't going at all well. I gave her a slight shrug to indicate that I'd take a shot at getting him to talk.

"James Henry, the way you acted today is not how we've raised you to behave. What you did goes against all that your mother and I have taught you. So I think we're entitled to an explanation, don't you?"

James raised his head and stared straight through me and I couldn't help but notice how his hair stuck up awkwardly in front like mine had at his age.

"Ben said something to me," he said. "Something I didn't like, all right?" He slammed his bandaged hand onto the table and immediately winced in pain.

Louisa rolled her eyes. "How many times have we told you that words are just words? They can't hurt you."

I wanted to tell her that the comment really wasn't helpful. Whatever this Ben character had said to James, those words had indeed hurt our son. Hurt him enough to respond with his fists.

"What did Ben say?" I asked.

James looked away. "It's not important."

"Yes it is," Louisa said.

I shot her a look that suggested it might be better if I took over the questioning for a bit. I knew from experience that one of the main reasons for a boy to lead with his fists was when a peer insulted his mother. If that had happened here, James Henry might find it easier to share that fact with me.

Louisa's mouth turned into a pout and, with a small sigh, she sat back in her seat.

I kept my eyes on my son. "Whatever the other boy said, it must have made you very angry."

"Yeah," James replied and I could see from the tension in his face that he was starting to relive the moment.

"What did he say?"

"Nothing."

I did my best to keep my expression and my voice non-judgmental. "James."

"All right. If you must know, he said something about Mum." He paused for a half-second. "And about you."

I wasn't surprised. Young boys in the schoolyard with too much time on their hands obviously hadn't changed much since my day. I still wanted to know what had provoked James as we couldn't have him fighting every time another child made an inappropriate comment. A quick glance at Louisa showed that she also seemed to have expected something along these lines. Having been a head teacher for years, she too had considerable experience with energetic young boys.

"Tell me what he said," I said.

James shook his head and squeezed his eyes shut. "I can't."

"Yes you can," I encouraged. I was prepared to wait as long as it took to get an answer from him, something I was sure James well knew.

After a long minute, he let loose a long breath. "All right. If you must know, he said Mum got knocked up with me. And that you didn't want to marry her."

Beside me, Louisa gasped. I, on the other hand, didn't react. James Henry already knew that Louisa and I had married long after he was born. Which meant that the boy's comments, while offensive, didn't seem sufficiently provocative to cause our normally calm son to take a shot at his classmate.

"What else did he say?" I prodded.

James swallowed hard, still refusing to meet my eyes. "He said that you didn't want me or Mum. That you were going to leave us here and move to London."

Beside me, Louisa visibly stiffened in her chair and I pressed my lips together.

"And?" I asked, knowing there was still more to come and knowing neither Louisa nor I was going to like what our son was about to tell us.

He squeezed his eyes shut and bit down on his lower lip.

"James?"

"Ben said the reason you didn't want me was that Mum got knocked up by someone else. He said that you weren't my real dad."