Read Online Some Day the Sun Will Shine and Have Not Will Be No More by Brian Peckford - Free Book Online Page A

being on your own is
     always quite a shock, notwithstanding the advice given to you and the things you
     read. New, unique, and strange experiences await and test your youth and
     inexperience.
    The office was a one-room (plus a small waiting room), standalone building with
     a desk, a couple of chairs, a small oil heater, a typewriter, and a filing
     cabinet. My being new and young, it was natural that my first week or so was to
     field a large influx of potential clients who wished to test my mettle. This was
     truly a baptism by fire, and though I began to get my footing, there were a
     number of incidents which, during my stay there, reflect what today would be
     complex social and emotional problems.
    The first to arise concerned a family in Harbour Round, a nearby community
     accessible by road. One of the children of a family there had a serious and, as
     yet, undetected disease. The local nurse and doctor who visited from Baie Verte
     recommended that the child go to St. John’s for further diagnosis and
     assessment. The family could not afford to pay for such a trip and I was brought
     into the situation by the father visiting my office to ask for help. After
     examining the man’s circumstance, it was obvious that the department would have
     to pay for this matter. In the subsequent days I contacted the nurse, and
     arrangements were made for the child to be seen by a specialist at a hospital in
     St. John’s. The appointment date was set for a few weeks hence, and I began the
     transportation and accommodation planning.
    I remember reading a play in high school that told of the chief character
     having scrupulously planned a crime scene, but one variable was still in play
     and thwarted the master plan, to which he exclaimed, “I did not foresee
     it.”
    Such was the case with me when the father appeared at my office
     very early one morning, distraught and frightened.
    “Mr. Peckford, sir, you never told me,” the father stuttered.
    “Told you what?” I queried.
    “That you or the nurse will not be taking my daughter to St. John’s to the
     hospital. I don’t understand,” the nervous father replied.
    “Oh, sorry, I just assumed you would know that the family would have to take
     her. You see, you and your wife are available. You’re not working, and while
     your wife is working at home, if she goes, you can look after the other
     children.”
    The man broke down. “We can’t go. We have never been anywhere . . .”
    I will never forget the look of fright on that man’s face. He was truly afraid
     and became almost incomprehensible.
    An hour or more passed, and although the father had come early, it was now
     after nine o’clock and other people were in the little waiting room, no doubt
     able to hear scraps of the conversation coming from the office.
    “Listen,” I whispered, “there are others outside there now. I don’t want them
     to hear our talk. Tell you what I will do. I will come to Harbour Round tomorrow
     and visit with you and your wife. We’ll have a good chat about this. Don’t
     worry, we will solve this.”
    Slowly, the father gathered his composure as I continued to reassure him that
     everything would work out. I hurriedly escorted him from the office and past the
     growing number of people in the waiting room and those waiting outside the
     building.
    The next morning I rented a car from a local merchant and travelled the ten
     miles to Harbour Round, which, like La Scie, was at first a French fishing
     station since it formed part of what was known as the French Shore. There were
     then a couple hundred people living there. I found the house, parked the car
     nearby, and walked up to the front door. Although it was around 11: 00 a.m. the
     community was quiet—no doubt aware of my arrival.
    It was a one-storey clapboard house of moderate size for the time. I knocked on
     the porch door and was greeted by the mother. Shewas of medium
     height, with reddish hair, and