The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society Part 14

From Sidney to Juliet 1st July 1946 July 1946

Dear Juliet,

Don't bundle-them up. I want to come to Guernsey myself. Does this weekend suit you? I want to see you, Kit and Guernsey-in diat order. I have no intention of reading your work while you pace up and down in front of me-I'll bring the ma.n.u.script back to London.

I can arrive Friday afternoon on the five o'clock plane and stay until Monday evening. Will you book me a hotel room? Can you also manage a small dinner party? I want to meet Eben, Isola, Dawsey and Amelia. I'll bring the wine.

Love, Sidney From Juliet to Sidney Wednesday

Dear Sidney,

Wonderful! Isola won't hear of you staying at the inn (she hints of bedbugs). She wants to put you up herself and needs to know if noises at dawn are likely to bother you. That is when Ariel, her goat, arises. Zen.o.bia, the parrot, is a late sleeper.

Dawsey and I and his cart will meet you at the airfield. May Friday hurry up and get here.

Love, Juliet From Isola to Juliet (left under Juliet's door) Friday-close to dawn

Lovey, I can't stop, I must hurry to my market stall. I am glad your friend will be staying with me. I've put lavender sprigs in his sheets. Is there one of my elixirs you'd like me to slip in his coffee? Just nod to me at the market and I'll know which one you mean. x.x.x Isola From Sidney to Sophie 3rd July 1946 July 1946

Dear Sophie,

I am, at last, in Guernsey with Juliet and am ready to tell you three or four of the dozen things you asked me to find out.

First and foremost, Kit seems as fond of Juliet as you and I are. She is a spirited little thing, affectionate in a reserved way (which is not as contradictory as it sounds) and quick to smile when she is with one of her adoptive parents from the Literary Society. She is adorable, too, with round cheeks, round curls and round eyes. The temptation to cuddle her is nearly overwhelming, but it would be a slight on her dignity, and I am not brave enough to try it When she sees someone she doesn't like, she has a stare that would shrivel Medea. Isola says she keeps it for cruel Mr Smythe, who beats his dog, and evil Mrs Gilbert, who called Juliet a nosy parker and told her she should go back to London where she belonged.

I'll tell you one story about Kit and Juliet together. Dawsey (more about him later) dropped in to take Kit to watch Eben's fis.h.i.+ng boat coming in. Kit said goodbye, flew out, then flew back in, ran up to Juliet, lifted her skirt a quarter of an inch, kissed her kneecap, and flew out again. Juliet looked dumbfounded-and then as happy as you or I have ever seen her.

I know you think Juliet seemed tired, worn, frazzled and pale when you saw her last winter. I don't think you realise how harrowing those teas and interviews can be; she looks as healthy as a horse now and is full of her old zest So fall, Sophie, I think she may never want to live in London again-though she doesn't know it yet Sea air, suns.h.i.+ne, green fields, flowers, the ever-changing sky and sea, and most of all the people, seem to have seduced her away from city life. I can easily see why. It's such a welcoming place. Isola is the kind of hostess you always wish you'd come across on a visit to the country but never do. She rousted me out of bed the first morning to help her dry rose petals, churn b.u.t.ter, stir something (G.o.d knows what) in a big pot, feed her goat Ariel and go to the fish market to buy an eel. All this with Zen.o.bia the parrot on my shoulder.

Now, about Dawsey Adams. I have inspected him, as per instructions. I liked what I saw. He's quiet, capable, trustworthy-oh G.o.d, I've made him sound like a dog-and he has a sense of humour. In short, he is utterly unlike any of Juliet's other swains-praise indeed. He didn't say much at our first meeting-nor at any of our meetings since, come to think of it-but let him into a room, and everyone in it seems to breathe a sigh of relief I have never in my life had that effect on anyone; I can't imagine why not Juliet seems a bit nervous of him-his silence is slightly daunting-and she made a dreadful mess of the tea things when he came round to pick up Kit yesterday. But Juliet has always shattered teacups-remember what she did to Mother's Spode?-so that may not signify. As for him, he watches her with dark steady eyes-until she looks at him and he glances away (I do hope you're appreciating my observational skills).

One thing I can say unequivocally: he's worth a dozen Mark Reynoldses. I know you think I'm unreasonable about Reynolds, but you haven't met him. He's all charm and oil, and he gets what he wants. It's one of his few principles. He wants Juliet because she's pretty and 'intellectual'-at the same time, and he thinks they'll make an impressive couple. If she marries him, she'll spend the rest of her life on display at theatres and restaurants and she'll never write another book. As her editor, I'm dismayed by that prospect, but as her friend, I'm horrified. It will be the end of our Juliet.

It's hard to say what Juliet is thinking about Reynolds, if anydiing. I asked her if she missed him, and she said, 'Mark? I suppose so,' as if he were a distant uncle, and not even a favourite one at that I'd be delighted if she forgot all about him, but I don't think he'll allow it.

To return to minor topics like the Occupation and Juliet's book, I was invited to accompany her on visits to several Islanders this afternoon. Her interviews were about Guernsey's Day of Liberation on 9 May last year. What a morning that must have been! The crowds were lined up along St Peter Port's harbour. Silent, absolutely silent ma.s.ses of people looking at the Royal Navy s.h.i.+ps sitting just outside the harbour. Then when the Tommies landed and marched ash.o.r.e, all h.e.l.l broke loose. Hugs, kisses, crying, shouting. So many of the soldiers landing were Guernsey men. Men who hadn't seen or heard a word from their families for five years. You can imagine their eyes searching the crowds for family members as they marched-and the joy of their reunions.

Mr LeBrun, a retired postman, told us the most unusual story of all. Some British s.h.i.+ps took leave of the fleet in St Peter Port and sailed a few miles north to St Sampson's Harbour. Crowds had gathered there, waiting to see the landing craft crash through the German anti-tank barriers and come up on to the beach. When the doors opened, out came not a platoon of uniformed soldiers but one lone man, got up as a caricature of an English gent in striped trousers, a morning coat, top hat, furled umbrella, and a copy of yesterday's Times Times in his hand. There was a split-second of silence before the joke sank in, and then the crowd roared. He was mobbed, clapped on the back, kissed, and put on the shoulders of four men to be paraded down the street Someone shouted, 'News-news from London itself,' and s.n.a.t.c.hed the in his hand. There was a split-second of silence before the joke sank in, and then the crowd roared. He was mobbed, clapped on the back, kissed, and put on the shoulders of four men to be paraded down the street Someone shouted, 'News-news from London itself,' and s.n.a.t.c.hed the Times Times out of his hand! Whoever that soldier was, he deserves a medal. out of his hand! Whoever that soldier was, he deserves a medal.

When the rest of the soldiers emerged, they were carrying chocolates, oranges, cigarettes to toss to the crowd. Brigadier Snow announced that the cable to England was being repaired, and soon they'd be able to talk to their evacuated children and families in England. The s.h.i.+ps also brought in food, tons of it, and medicine, paraffin, animal feed, clothes, cloth, seeds and shoes!

There must be enough stories to fill three books-it may be a' matter of culling. But don't worry if Juliet sounds nervous from time to time-she should. It's a daunting task.

I must stop now and get changed for Juliet's dinner party. Isola is swathed in three shawls arid a lace tablecloth-and I want to do her proud.

Love to you all, Sidney From Juliet to Sophie 7th July 1946 July 1946

Dear Sophie,

Just a note to tell you that Sidney is here and we can stop worrying about him-and his leg. He looks wonderful: tanned, fit, and without a noticeable limp. In fact, we threw his cane in the sea-I'm sure it's halfway to France by now.

I had a small dinner party for him-cooked by me, and edible, too. Will Thisbee gave me The Beginner's Cook Book far Girl Guides The Beginner's Cook Book far Girl Guides. It was just the thing; the writer a.s.sumes you know nothing about cookery and gives useful hints: 'When adding eggs, break the sh.e.l.ls first'

Sidney is having a lovely time as Isola's guest. Apparently they sat up late talking last night. Isola doesn't approve of small talk and believes in breaking the ice by stamping on it.

She asked him if he and I were engaged to be married. If not, why not? It was plain to everyone that we doted on each other. Sidney told her that indeed he did dote on me; always had and always would, but that we both knew that we could never marry-because he was a h.o.m.os.e.xual. Isola neither gasped, fainted, nor blinked. She fixed him with her fish eye and asked, 'And Juliet knows?' When he told her yes, I had always known, Isola jumped up, swooped down, kissed his forehead, and said, 'How nice-just like dear Booker. I'll not tell a soul; you can rely on me.'

Then she sat back down and began to talk about Oscar Wilde's plays. Weren't they a laugh? Sophie, wouldn't you have loved to have been a fly on the wall? I would.

Sidney and I are going shopping now for a present for Isola. I said she would love a warm, colourful shawl, but he wants to get her a cuckoo clock. Why???

Love, Juliet

P. S. Mark doesn't write, he telephones. He rang me up only last week. It was one of those terrible connections that force you constantly to interrupt one another and bellow 'WHAT?' However, I managed to get the gist of the conversation-I should come home and marry him. I politely disagreed. It upset me much less than it would have done a month ago.

From Isola to Sidney 8th July 1946 July 1946

Dear Sidney,

You are a very nice guest. I like you. So does Zen.o.bia, or she would not have flown on to your shoulder and perched there so long.

I'm glad you like to sit up late and talk. I like that myself of an evening. I am going to the manor now to find the book you told me about How is it that Juliet and Amelia never made mention of Miss Jane Austen to me?

I hope you will come and visit Guernsey again. Did you like Juliet's soup? Wasn't it tasty? She will be ready for pastry and gravy soon-you must go at cooking slowly, or you'll just make shops.

I was lonely after you left, so I invited Dawsey and Amelia to tea yesterday. You should have seen how I didn't utter a word when Amelia said she thought you and Juliet would get married. I even nodded and slitted my eyes, like I knew something they didn't, to throw them off the scent.

I do like my cuckoo clock. How cheering it is! I run into the kitchen to watch it. I am sorry Zen.o.bia bit the little bird's head off-she has a jealous nature-but Eli said he'd carve me another one, as good as new. His little perch still pops out on the hour.

With fondness, your hostess, Isola Pribby From Juliet to Sidney 9th July 1946 July 1946

Dear Sidney,

I knew it! I knew you'd love Guernsey. The next best thing to being here myself was having you here-even for such a short visit I'm happy that you know all my friends now, and they you. I'm particularly happy you enjoyed Kit's company so much. I regret to tell you that some of her fondness for you is due to your present, Elspeth the Lisping Bunny Elspeth the Lisping Bunny. Her admiration for Elspeth has caused her to take up lisping, and I am sorry to say she is very good at it Dawsey has just brought Kit home-they have been visiting his new piglet Kit asked if I was writing to Thidney. When I said yes, she said, 'Thay I want him to come back thoon.' Do you thee what I mean about Elspeth? That made Dawsey smile, which pleased me. Fm afraid you didn't see the best of Dawsey this weekend; he was extra-quiet at my dinner party. Perhaps it was my soup, but I think it more likely that he is preoccupied with Remy. He seems to think that she won't get better until she comes to Guernsey.

I am glad you took my pages home to read. G.o.d knows, I am at a loss to divine just what exactly is wrong with them. I only know something is.

What on earth did you say to Isola? She dropped in on her way to pick up Pride and Prejudice Pride and Prejudice and to berate me for never telling her about Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy. Why hadn't she known that there were love stories not riddled with ill-adjusted men, anguish, death and graveyards! What else had we been keeping from her? and to berate me for never telling her about Elizabeth Bennet and Mr Darcy. Why hadn't she known that there were love stories not riddled with ill-adjusted men, anguish, death and graveyards! What else had we been keeping from her?

I apologised for such a lapse and said you were absolutely right Pride and Prejudice Pride and Prejudice was one of the greatest love stories ever written-and she might actually die of suspense before she finished it. was one of the greatest love stories ever written-and she might actually die of suspense before she finished it.

Isola said that Zen.o.bia is pining for you-she's off her feed. So am I, but I'm so grateful you could come at all.

Love, Juliet From Sidney to Juliet 12th July 1946 July 1946

Dear Juliet,

I've read your chapters several times, and you're right-they won't do. Strings of anecdotes don't make a book.

Juliet, your book needs a centre. I don't mean more interviews. I mean one person's voice to tell what was happening all around her. As written now, the facts, as interesting as they are, seem like random scattered shots.

It would hurt like h.e.l.l to write this letter to you, if it wasn't for one thing: you already have the core-you just don't know it yet.

I'm talking about Elizabeth McKenna. Have you noticed that everyone you've interviewed sooner or later mentions Elizabeth? Lord, Juliet: who painted Booker's portrait and saved his life and danced down the street with him? Who thought up the lie about the Literary Society-and then made it true? Guernsey wasn't her home, but she adapted to it and to the loss of her freedom. How? She must have missed Ambrose and London, but she never, I gather, whined about it. She went to Ravensbriick for sheltering a slave worker. Look at how she died, and why.

Juliet, how did a girl, an art student, who had never had a job in her life, turn herself into a nurse, working six days a week in the hospital? She did have dear friends, but she had no one to call her own. She fell in love with an enemy officer and lost him; she had a baby alone during wartime. It must have been terrifying, despite all her good friends. You can only share responsibilities up to a point.

I'm returning the ma.n.u.script and your letters to me-read them again and see how often Elizabeth's name crops up. Ask yourself why. Talk to Dawsey and Eben. Talk to Isola and Amelia. Talk to Mr Dilwyn and to anyone else who knew her well. You live in her house. Look around you at her books, her belongings.

I think you should focus your book on Elizabeth. I think Kit would greatly value a story about her mother-it would give her something to hang on to, later. So, either give up altogether-or get to know Elizabeth well.