The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society Part 17

Love, Juliet From Isola to Sidney 1st August 1946 August 1946

Dear Sidney,

I am the new Secretary of the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society. I thought you might like to see a sample of my first minutes, being as how you are interested in anything Juliet is interested in. Here they are: 30 30th July 1946, 7.30 p.m. July 1946, 7.30 p.m.

Night cold. Ocean noisy. Will Thisbee was host. House dusted, but curtains need was.h.i.+ng. Mrs Winslow Daubbs read a chapter from her autobiography, Mrs Winslow Daubbs read a chapter from her autobiography, The Life and Loves of Delilah Daubbs The Life and Loves of Delilah Daubbs. Audience attentive-but silent afterwards. Except for Winslow, who wants a divorce. All were embarra.s.sed, so Juliet and Amelia served the pudding, a lovely ribbon cake, on real china plates-which we don't usually run to. Miss Minor then rose to ask if we were going to start being our own authors, could she read from a book of her very own thoughts? Her text is called Miss Minor then rose to ask if we were going to start being our own authors, could she read from a book of her very own thoughts? Her text is called The Common Place Book of Mary Margaret Minor The Common Place Book of Mary Margaret Minor. Everybody already knows what Mary Margaret thinks about everything, but we said 'Aye' because we all like Mary Margaret. Will Thisbee ventured to say that perhaps Mary Margaret will edit herself in writing, as she has never done in talking, so it might not be so bad. I moved we have a specially called meeting next week so I don't have to wait to talk about Jane Austen. Dawsey seconded! All said 'Aye'. Meeting adjourned. I moved we have a specially called meeting next week so I don't have to wait to talk about Jane Austen. Dawsey seconded! All said 'Aye'. Meeting adjourned.

-Miss Isola Pribby, Official Secretary to the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.

Now that I'm Official Secretary, I could swear you in for a member if you'd like to be one. It's against the rules, because you're not an Islander, but I could do it in secret.

Your friend, Isola From Juliet to Sidney 3rd August 1946 August 1946

Dear Sidney,

Someone-and I can't imagine who-has sent Isola a present from Stephens & Stark. It was published in the mid-1800s and is called and is called The New Ill.u.s.trated Self-Instructor in Phrenology and Psychiatry: with Size and Shape Tables and Over One Hundred Ill.u.s.trations The New Ill.u.s.trated Self-Instructor in Phrenology and Psychiatry: with Size and Shape Tables and Over One Hundred Ill.u.s.trations. If that is not enough, there's a subt.i.tle: Phrenology: the Science of Interpreting b.u.mps on the Head Phrenology: the Science of Interpreting b.u.mps on the Head.

Eben had Kit and me, Dawsey, Isola, Will, Amelia and Remy over for supper last night. Isola arrived with tables, sketches, graph paper, a measuring tape, calipers, and a new notebook. Then she cleared her throat and read the advertis.e.m.e.nt on the first page: 'You too can learn to read Head b.u.mps! Stun Your Friends, Confound Your Enemies with Indisputable Knowledge of Their Human Faculties or Lack of Them.'

She thumped the book on to the table. 'I'm going to become an adept,' she announced, 'in time for Harvest Festival.'

She has told Reverend Elstone that she will no longer dress up in shawls and pretend to read palms. No, from now on she will see the future in a scientific way, by reading head b.u.mps! The church will make far more money from head b.u.mps than Miss Sybil Beddoes does with her stall, WIN A KISS FROM SYBIL BEDDOES.

Will said she was absolutely right Miss Beddoes wasn't a good kisser and he for one was tired of kissing her, even for sweet charity's sake.

Sidney, do you realise what you have unleashed on Guernsey? Isola's already read the lumps on Mr Singleton's head (his stall is next to hers at the market) and told him his Love of Fellow Creatures b.u.mp had a shallow trench right down the middle-which was probably why he didn't feed his dog enough. Do you see where this could lead? One day she'll find someone with a Latent Killer Knot, and he'll shoot her-if Miss Beddoes doesn't get her first.

One wonderful, unexpected thing did come from your present After pudding Isola began to read the b.u.mps on Eben's head-dictating the measurements for me to write down. I glanced over at Remy, wondering what she would make of Eben's hair standing on end and Isola rummaging through it. Remy was trying to stifle a smile, but she couldn't manage it and burst out laughing. Dawsey and I stopped dead and stared at her! She's so quiet, not one of us could have imagined such a laugh. It was like water. I hope I'll hear it again.

Dawsey and I have not been as easy with each other as we once were, though he still comes often to visit Kit, or to bring Remy over. When we heard Remy laugh our eyes met for the first time for a fortnight But perhaps he was only admiring how my sunny nature had rubbed off on her. I do, according to some people, have a sunny nature, Sidney. Did you know that?

Billee Bee sent a copy of Screen Gems Screen Gems magazine to Peter. There were photographs of Rita Hay worth-Peter was delighted, though surprised to see Miss Hayworth posing in her nightdress! Kneeling on a bed! What was the world coming to? magazine to Peter. There were photographs of Rita Hay worth-Peter was delighted, though surprised to see Miss Hayworth posing in her nightdress! Kneeling on a bed! What was the world coming to?

Sidney, isn't Billee Bee tired of being sent on errands for me?

Love, Juliet From Susan Scott to Juliet 5th August 1946 August 1946

Dear Juliet,

You know Sidney doesn't keep your letters clasped to his heart; he leaves them open on his desk for anyone to see, so of course I read them.

I am writing to rea.s.sure you about Billee Bee's errand-running. Sidney doesn't ask her. She begs to perform any little service she can for him, or you, or 'that dear child'. She all but coos at him and I all but gag at her. She wears a little angora cap with a chin-bow-die kind that Sonja Henie skates in. Need I say more?

Also, contrary to what Sidney thinks, she isn't an angel straight from heaven, she's from an employment agency employment agency. Meant to be temporary temporary, she has dug herself in-and is now indispensable and permanent and permanent. Can't you think of some living creature Kit would like to have from the Galapagos? Billee Bee would sail on the next tide for it-and be gone for months. Possibly for ever, if some animal there would just eat her.

All my best to you and Kit, Susan From Isola to Sidney 5di August 1946

Dear Sidney,

I know it was you who sent The New Ill.u.s.trated Self-Instructor in Phrenology and Psychiatry: with Size and Shape Tables and Over One Hundred Ill.u.s.trations The New Ill.u.s.trated Self-Instructor in Phrenology and Psychiatry: with Size and Shape Tables and Over One Hundred Ill.u.s.trations. It is a very useful book and I thank you for it I've been studying hard, so now I can finger through a whole headful of b.u.mps without peeking into the book more than three or four rimes. I hope to make a mint for the church at Harvest Festival, as who would not desire to have their innermost workings-good and rotten-revealed by the Science of Phrenology? No one, that's who.

It's a real lightning bolt, this Science of Phrenology. I've found out more in the last three days than I knew in my whole life before. Mrs Gilbert has always been a nasty one, but now I know that she can't help it-she's got a big pit in her Benevolence spot She fell into the quarry when she was a girl, and my guess is she cracked her Benevolence and was never the same since.

Even my own friends are full of surprises. Eben is garrulous! I never would have thought it of him, but he's got bags under his eyes and there's no two ways about it. I broke it to him gently. Juliet didn't want to have her b.u.mps read at first, but she agreed when I told her that she was standing in the way of Science. She's awash in Amativeness, is Juliet Also Conjugal Love. I told her it was a wonder she wasn't married, with such great mounds.

Will cackled, 'Your Mr Stark will be a lucky man, Juliet!' Juliet blushed red as a tomato, and I was tempted to say he didn't know much because Mr Stark is a h.o.m.os.e.xual, but I pulled myself together and kept your secret like I promised.

Dawsey up and left then, so I never got to his lumps but I'll pin him down soon. I think I don't understand Dawsey sometimes. For a while there he was downright chatty, but these days he doesn't have two words to rub together.

Thank you again for the fine book.

Your friend, Isola Telegram from Sidney to Juliet 6th August 1946 August 1946

Bought a small bagpipe for Dominic at Gunther's yesterday stop stop Would Kit like one Would Kit like one stop stop Let me know soonest as they have only one left Let me know soonest as they have only one left stop stop How's the writing How's the writing stop stop Love to you and Kit Love to you and Kit stop stop Sidney Sidney From Juliet to Sidney 7th August 1946 August 1946

Dear Sidney,

Kit would love a bagpipe. I would not.

I think the work is going splendidly, but I'd like to send you the first two chapters-I won't feel settled until you've read them. Do you have time?

Every biography should be written within a generation of its subject's life, while he or she is still in living memory. Think what I could have done for Anne Bronte if I'd been able to speak to her neighbours. Perhaps she wasn't really meek and melancholy-perhaps she had a screaming temper and dashed crockery to the floor regularly once a week.

Every day I learn something new about Elizabeth. How I wish I had known her myself! As I write, I catch myself thinking of her as a friend, remembering things she did as though I'd been there-she's so full of life that I have to remind myself that she's dead, and then I feel the wrench of losing her again.

I heard a story about her today that made me want to lie down and weep. We had supper with Eben this evening, and afterwards Eli and Kit went out to dig for worms (a task best done by the light of the moon). Eben and I took our coffee outside, and for the first time he chose to talk about Elizabeth to me.

It happened at the school where Eli and the other children were waiting for the Evacuation s.h.i.+ps. Eben wasn't there, because the families were not allowed, but Isola saw it happen, and she told him about it that night.

She said that the room was full of children, and Elizabeth was b.u.t.toning up Eli's coat when he told her he was scared of getting on the boat-leaving his mother and his home. If their s.h.i.+p was bombed, he asked, who would he say goodbye to? Isola said that Elizabeth took her time, as if she was studying his question. Then she pulled up her jumper and unpinned samething from her blouse. It was her father's medal from the first war and she always wore it.

She held it in her hand and explained to him that it was a magic badge, that nothing bad could happen to him while he wore it. Then she got Eli to spit on it twice to call up the charm. Isola saw Eli's face over Elizabeth's shoulder and told Eben that it had that beautiful light children have before the Age of Reason gets at them.

Of all the things that happened during the war, sending children away to try to keep them safe was surely the most terrible. I don't know how the parents endured it. It defies the animal instinct to protect your young. I see myself becoming bearlike around Kit Even when I'm not actually watching her, I'm watching her. If she's in any sort of danger (which she often is, given her taste in climbing), my hackles rise-I didn't even know I had hackles before-and I run to rescue her. When her enemy, the Vicar's nephew, threw plums at her, I roared at him. And through some queer sort of intuition I always know where she is, just as I know where my hands are-and if I didn't, I'd be ill with worry. This is how the species survives, I suppose, but the war put a spanner in all that How did the mothers of Guernsey live, not knowing where their children were? I can't imagine.

Love, Juliet

P. S. What about a flute?

From Juliet to Sophie 9th August 1946 August 1946

Darling Sophie,

What marvellous news-a new baby! Wonderful! I do hope you won't have to eat dry biscuits and suck lemons this rime. I know you two don't care which/what/who you have, but I would love a girl. To that end, I am knitting a tiny matinee jacket and hat in pink wool. Of course Alexander is delighted, but what about Dominic?

I told Isola your news, and I'm afraid she may send you a bottle of her Pre-Birthing Tonic. Sophie-please don't drink it, and don't dispose of it where the dogs might find it. There may not be anything actually poisonous in tonics, but I don't think you should take any chances.

Your enquiries about Dawsey are misdirected. Send them to Kit-or Remy. I hardly see the man any more, and when I do, he's silent. Not silent in a romantic, brooding way, like Mr Rochester, but in a grave and sober way that indicates disapproval. I don't know what the matter is, I really don't. When I arrived in Guernsey, Dawsey was my friend. We talked about Charles Lamb and we walked all over the Island together. I enjoyed his company as much as that of anyone I've ever known. Then, after that appalling night on the cliffs, he stopped talking-to me, anyway. It's been a terrible disappointment. I miss the sense that we understood each other, but I'm beginning to think that was only my delusion all along.

Not being silent myself, I am wildly curious about people who are. As Dawsey doesn't talk about himself-doesn't talk at all to me-I was reduced to questioning Isola about his head b.u.mps in order to find out about his past But Isola is beginning to fear that the b.u.mps may lie after all, and she offered as proof the fact that Dawsey's violence-p.r.o.ne node isn't as big as it should be, given that he nearly beat Eddie Meares to death!!! Those exclamation marks are mine. Isola seemed to think nothing of it.

It seems that Eddie Meares was big and nasty and gavetradedsold information to the German authorities in exchange for favours. Everyone knew, which didn't seem to bother him, since he'd go to a bar to show off his new wealth: a loaf of white bread, cigarettes, silk stockings-which, he said, any girl on the Island would be grateful for.

A week after Elizabeth and Peter were arrested, he was showing off a silver cigarette case, hinting that it was a reward for reporting some goings-on he'd seen at Peter Sawyer's house. Dawsey heard about it and went to Mad Bella's the next night Apparently, he walked up to Eddie Meares, grabbed him by the s.h.i.+rt collar, lifted him up off his stool and began banging his head on the bar. He called Eddie a lousy little s.h.i.+t, pounding his head down between each word. Then they set to it on the floor.

According to Isola, Dawsey was a mess: nose, mouth bleeding, one eye swollen shut, one rib cracked-but Eddie Meares was a bigger mess: two black eyes, two ribs broken, and st.i.tches. The Court sentenced Dawsey to three months in the Guernsey jail, though they let him out after one. The Germans needed the s.p.a.ce for more serious criminals-like Black Marketeers and the thieves who stole petrol from army lorries. 'And to this day, when Eddie Meares spies Dawsey coming through the door of Mad Bella's, his eyes go s.h.i.+fty, he spills his beer and not five minutes later, he's darting out the back door,' Isola concluded.

Naturally I was agog and begged for more. As she's disillusioned with b.u.mps, Isola moved on to actual facts. Dawsey didn't have a very happy childhood. His father died when he was eleven, and Mrs Adams, who'd always been sickly, grew odd. She became fearful, first of going into town, then of going into her own garden, and finally she wouldn't leave the house at all. She would just sit in the kitchen, rocking and staring out at nothing Dawsey could ever see. She died shortly after the war began. Isola said that what with all this-his mother, farming, and stuttering so badly-he'd always been shy, and never, except for Eben, had any ready-made friends. Isola and Amelia were acquainted with him, but that was about all.

That was how it was until Elizabeth came-and made him be friends. Forced him, really, into the Literary Society. And then, Isola said, how he blossomed! Now he had books to talk about instead of swine fever-and friends to talk to. The more he talked, the less he stuttered.

He's a mysterious creature, isn't he? Perhaps he is like Mr Rochester, and has a secret sorrow. Or a mad wife down in his cellar. Anything is possible, I suppose, but it would have been difficult to feed a mad wife on one set of ration coupons during the war. Oh dear, I wish we were friends again. (Dawsey and I, not the mad wife.) I meant to have done with Dawsey in a terse sentence or two, but I see that he's taken several sheets. Now I must rush to make myself presentable for tonight's meeting of the Society. I have one decent skirt to my name, and I have been feeling dowdy. Remy, for all she's so frail and thin, manages to look stylish at every turn. What is it about French women?

More anon.

Love, Juliet From Juliet to Sidney 11th August 1946 August 1946