Some Day the Sun Will Shine and Have Not Will Be No More by Brian Peckford

of tea and come sit at the table so we can have a
     chat,” I implored.
    “A chat,” Mary repeated, bewildered. “A chat about what?”
    As she got herself some tea, I responded, “Just a chat—that’s all.”
    I knew I was now pushing my luck. I really hadn’t thought I would get this far.
     I could hear Bert and George coming up the path; there was a lot of heated
     conversation as Bert tried to delay George’s arrival. George’s voice was rising.
     Mary sat down with her tea.
    “So, Mary, it’s just you and George in the house? Is that right?”
    Mary gave me a haunted look, her face strained, eyes flitting to and fro,
     waiting, no doubt, for George to arrive any second. “We got married fourteen
     years ago,” she stuttered. “We have been fishing in this cove every year since
     then.”
    George burst through the doorway with Bert close behind. Standing in the middle
     of the kitchen, George fumed. “Now, get out of here! You have said hello to Mary
     and me, so go—go now!” He was almost spitting as he spoke, looking both angry
     and confused.
    “Now, George, I am just having a cup of tea with Mary, that’s all— and then I
     will be gone.”
    “George, sit down,” Bert said. “Mr. Peckford is not here to cause
     trouble.”
    George grabbed a chair and sat down.
    “George, boy, Mary tells me you have been here for fourteen summers. It’s a
     nice place—nice and peaceful.”
    “Yeah,” George growled. “We works hard and we have never had anything to do
     with the government.”
    “Yes, that’s something to be proud of, George. My grandfather was a fisherman
     for fifty years and he was proud like you. Nothing to do with government,
     nothing. And he went to the front, seal fishing for forty-nine years,” I
     said.
    Mary put a mug of tea by George. “Would you like a cup of tea . . . Bert, is
     that your name?”
    “Well, I will in a little while, Mary, but I better go check on the boat. I
     think I put her on the wrong side of the stage. A little breeze is coming up, so
     I better check.”
    What’s Bert doing , I asked myself, leaving me here alone with this
     fragile situation? He can’t be thinking. And then like a flash, I knew:Bert was taking a calculated risk; he figured if George and
     Mary were going to talk, it would likely be when they were alone with me. Bert
     crossed the kitchen and went out the door.
    I had to make the best of it. I looked at George straight in his eyes, holding
     his gaze for a few seconds, then Mary’s. “Listen. I am only here for the summer.
     I am going to university in St. John’s and it is almost for sure I will never
     see you again. So I started thinking, perhaps I can help . . .”
    “Help, what do you mean help?” George sputtered. “The fish is good—we work
     hard. We don’t need no help.” He started to get up.
    “No,” Mary said, water forming in her eyes. “Wait, George. Let the man
     finish.”
    “Listen, George.” I lowered my voice to almost a whisper. “I don’t mean help
     the way you mean it. You don’t need a food order. But the government can help in
     other ways—when people are sick or disabled or with other problems. It is not
     like it used to be, George. It is different now.”
    Mary, still sitting, trembled as tears flowed down her strained face. George
     began to stutter under his breath. With every ounce of compassion I could
     muster, I whispered to George with my hand on his arm. “Are there three people
     in this house, George?”
    George looked at Mary, at me, back at Mary. She sobbed. “Yes, George, we have
     to tell . . .”
    With a gush of emotion, trembling in his chair and his head in his hands,
     George mumbled, “Yes, there are three of us!”
    The emotion was intense, the crying almost unbearable—and all three of us
     sobbed together for a long time. Finally, George got up and took Mary’s hand.
     “Come with us,” he said.
    We walked through their bedroom, and in the farthest wall