The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society (23 page)

‘He was a child, Juliet. Just a child—face-up in the dirt. Thin, my God he was thin, wasted and filthy, in rags. He was covered with vermin; they came out from his hair, crawled across his face, crawled over his eyelids. That poor boy didn't even feel them—no flicker, no nothing. All he wanted was a goddamned potato—and he didn't even have the strength to dig it up. To do this to boys!

‘I tell you, I hated those Germans with all my heart. I couldn't bend down to see if he was breathing, but I got my feet off my chair pedals and managed to prod and poke him until his shoulders were turned to me. Now, my arms are strong, and I pulled the boy on to my lap. Somehow, I got us both up my ramp and into the kitchen—there, I let the boy fall to the floor. I built up my fire, got a blanket, heated water; I wiped his poor face and hands and drowned every louse and maggot I picked off him.'

Peter couldn't ask his neighbours for help—they might report him to the Germans. The German Commandant had said that anyone who sheltered a Todt worker would be sent to a concentration camp or shot where they stood. Elizabeth
was coming to Peter's house the next day—she was his nurse and visited once a week, sometimes more. He knew Elizabeth well enough to be pretty certain that she'd help him keep the boy alive, and that she'd keep quiet about it.

‘She arrived around mid-morning the next day. I met her by the door and said I had trouble waiting inside, and if she didn't want trouble she shouldn't come in. She knew what I was trying to say, and she nodded and stepped inside. Her jaw clenched when she knelt by Lud on the floor—he smelt something awful—but she got down to business. She cut off his clothes and burnt them. She bathed him, washed his hair with tar soap—that made a mess, we did laugh, if you can believe it. Either that or the cold water woke him up a bit. He was startled—frightened until he saw who we were. Elizabeth kept speaking softly, not that he could understand a word she said, but he was soothed. She dragged him into my bedroom—we couldn't keep him in my kitchen, the neighbours might come in and see him.

‘Well, Elizabeth nursed him. There wasn't any medicine but she got bones for broth and real bread on the Black Market. I had eggs, and little by little, day by day, he got his strength back. He slept a lot. Sometimes Elizabeth had to come after dark, before curfew. It wouldn't do for anyone to see her coming to my house too often. People told on their neighbours, you know—trying to curry favour, or food, from the Germans.

‘But someone did notice, and someone did tell—I don't know who it was. They told the
Feldpolizei
and they came out on that Tuesday night. Elizabeth had brought some chicken and was feeding Lud. I sat by his bedstead.

‘They surrounded the house, all quiet until they burst in. Well—we was caught, fair and square. Taken that night, all of us, and God knows what they did to that boy.

‘There wasn't any trial, and we was put on a boat to St Malo the next day. That's the last I saw of Elizabeth, led into the boat by one of the guards from the prison. She looked so cold. I don't know where they took her. They sent me to the prison in Coutances, but they didn't know what to do with a prisoner in a wheelchair, so they sent me home again after a week. They told me to be grateful for their lenience.'

Peter said that Elizabeth always left Kit with Amelia when she came to his house. Nobody knew Elizabeth was helping the Todt worker. He believes she let everyone think she was at the hospital.

Those are the bare bones, Sidney, but Peter asked if I'd come back again. I said yes, I'd love to—and he told me not to bring brandy, just myself. He would like to see some picture magazines, if I have any to hand. He wants to know who Rita Hayworth is.

Love,

Juliet

From Dawsey to Juliet
27th July 1946

Dear Juliet,

It will soon be time for me to collect Remy from the hospice, but as I have a few minutes, I will use them to write to you.

Remy seems stronger now than she was last month, but she is very frail yet. Sister Touvier took me aside to caution me—I must see to it that she gets enough to eat, that she stays warm, that she's not upset. She must be with people—cheerful people, if possible.

I've no doubt Remy will get nourishing food, and Amelia will see to it that she's warm enough, but how am I to serve up good cheer? Joking and suchlike is not natural to me. I didn't know what to say to the Sister, so I just nodded and tried to look jolly. I don't think it was very successful, because Sister glanced at me sharply.

Well, I will do my best, but you, blessed as you are with a sunny nature and a light heart, would make a better companion for Remy than I. I don't doubt she will take to you as we all have, these last months, and you will do her good.

Give Kit a hug and kiss for me. I will see you both on Tuesday.

Dawsey

From Juliet to Sophie
29th July 1946

Dear Sophie,

Please ignore everything I have ever said about Dawsey Adams.

I am an idiot.

I have just received a letter from Dawsey praising the medicinal qualities of my ‘sunny nature and light heart.' A sunny nature? A light heart? I have never been so insulted. Light-hearted is a short step from witless in my book. A cackling buffoon—that's what I am to Dawsey.

I am also humiliated—while I was feeling the knife-edge of attraction as we strolled through the moonlight, he was thinking about Remy and how my light-minded prattle would amuse her. No, it's clear that I was deluded and Dawsey doesn't give a fig for me.

I am too irritated to write more now.

Love always,

Juliet

From Juliet to Sidney
1st August 1946

Dear Sidney,

Remy is here at last. She is petite and terribly thin, with short black hair and eyes that are nearly black too. I had imagined that she would look wounded, but she doesn't, except for a little limp, which shows itself as a mere hesitancy in her walk, and a rather stiff way of moving her neck.

Now I've made her sound waiflike, and she isn't really. You might think so from a distance, but never up close. There is a grave intensity in her that is almost unnerving. She is not cold and certainly not unfriendly, but she seems to be wary of spontaneity. I suppose if I had been through her experience, I would be the same—somewhat removed from everyday life.

You can cross out all the above when Remy is with Kit. At first, she seemed inclined to follow Kit with her eyes instead of talking to her, but that changed when Kit offered to teach her how to lisp. Remy looked startled, but she agreed to take lessons and they went off to Amelia's greenhouse together. Her lisp is hampered by her accent, but Kit doesn't hold that against her and has generously given her extra instructions.

Amelia had a small dinner party the evening Remy arrived. Everyone was on their best behaviour—Isola arrived with a big bottle of tonic under her arm, but she thought better of it once she saw Remy. ‘Might kill her,' she muttered to me in the kitchen, and stuffed it in her coat pocket. Eli
shook her hand nervously and then retreated—I think he was afraid he'd hurt her accidentally. I was pleased to see that Remy gets on well with Amelia—they will enjoy each other's company—but Dawsey is her favourite. When he came into the sitting room—a little later than the rest—she relaxed visibly and even smiled at him.

Yesterday was cold and foggy, but Remy and Kit and I built a sandcastle on Elizabeth's tiny beach. We spent a long time on its construction, and it was a splendid, towering specimen. I had made a Thermos of cocoa, and we sat drinking and waiting impatiently for the tide to come in and knock the castle down.

Kit ran up and down the shore, inciting the sea to rush in further and faster. Remy touched my shoulder and smiled. ‘Elizabeth must have been like that once,' she said, ‘the Empress of the seas.' I felt as if she had given me a gift—even a touch takes trust—and I was glad that she felt safe with me.

While Kit danced in the waves, Remy talked about Elizabeth. She had meant to keep her head down, conserve the strength she had left, and come home as quickly as she could after the war. ‘We thought it would be possible. We knew of the invasion, we saw all the Allied bombers flying over the camp. We knew what was happening in Berlin. The guards could not keep their fear from us. Each night we lay sleepless, waiting to hear the Allied tanks at the gates. We whispered that we could be free the next day. We did not believe we would die.'

There didn't seem to be anything else to say after that—though I thought, If only Elizabeth could have held on for a few more weeks, she could have come home to Kit. Why, why, so close to the end, did she attack the overseer?

Remy watched the sea breathe in and out. Then she said, ‘It would have been better for her not to have such a heart.'

Yes, but worse for the rest of us.

The tide came in then: cheers, screams and no more castle.

Love,

Juliet

From Isola to Sidney
1st 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:

30th July 1946, 7.30 p.m.

Night cold. Ocean noisy. Will Thisbee was host. House dusted, but curtains need washing.

Mrs Winslow Daubbs read a chapter from her autobiography,
The Life and Loves of Delilah Daubbs
. Audience attentive—but silent afterwards. Except for Winslow, who wants a divorce. All were embarrassed, 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
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.

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

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
The New Illustrated Self-Instructor in Phrenology and Psychiatry: with Size and Shape Tables and Over One Hundred Illustrations
. If that is not enough, there's a subtitle:
Phrenology
:
the Science of Interpreting Bumps 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 advertisement on the first page: ‘You too can learn to read Head Bumps! 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 bumps! The church will make far more money from head bumps 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 Bump 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 bumps 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
magazine to Peter. There were photographs of Rita Hayworth—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