The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

Telegram from Billee Bee to Juliet

20th August, 1946

DEAR MR. STARK CALLED SUDDENLY TO ROME. ASKED ME TO COME AND COLLECT LETTERS THIS THURSDAY. PLEASE WIRE IF THIS SUITS; LONGING FOR PETITE VACANCE ON DARLING ISLAND. BILLEE BEE JONES

Telegram from Juliet to Billee Bee

I’D BE DELIGHTED. PLEASE LET ME KNOW ARRIVAL TIME, AND I’LL MEET YOU. JULIET.

From Juliet to Sophie

22nd August, 1946

Dear Sophie,

Your brother is becoming altogether too august for my taste—he has sent an emissary to retrieve Oscar Wilde’s letters for him! Billee Bee arrived on the morning mail boat. It was a very rough voyage so she was shaky-legged and green-faced—but game! She couldn’t manage lunch, but she rallied for dinner and made a lively guest at tonight’s Literary Society meeting.

One awkward moment—Kit doesn’t seem to like her. She backed away and said, “I don’t kiss,” when Billee attempted one. What do you do when Dominic is rude—chastise him on the spot, which seems embarrassing for everyone, or wait until later for privacy? Billee Bee covered beautifully, but that shows her good manners, not Kit’s. I waited, but I’d like your opinion.

Ever since I learned that Elizabeth was dead and Kit an orphan, I have worried about her future—and about my own future without her. I think it would be unbearable. I’m going to make an appointment with Mr. Dilwyn when he and Mrs. Dilwyn return from their holiday. He is her legal guardian, and I want to discuss my possible guardianship/adoption/fosterparenting of Kit. Of course, I want outright adoption, but I’m not sure Mr. Dilwyn would consider a spinster lady of flexible income and no fixed abode a desirable parent.

I haven’t said a word about this to anyone here, or to Sidney. There is so much to dither over—What would Amelia say? Would Kit like the idea? Is she old enough to decide? Where would we live? Can I take her away from the place she loves for London? A restricted city life instead of going about in boats and playing tag in cemeteries? Kit would have you, me, and Sidney in England, but what about Dawsey and Amelia and all the family she has here? It would be impossible to replace or replicate them. Can you imagine a London nursery-school teacher with Isola’s flair? Of course not.

I argue myself all the way to one end of the question and back again several times a day. One thing I am sure of, though, is that I want to take care of Kit forever.

Love,

Juliet

P.S. If Mr. Dilwyn says no, not possible—I might just grab Kit up and come hide out in your barn.

From Juliet to Sidney

23rd August, 1946

Dear Sidney,

Called suddenly to Rome, were you? Have you been elected Pope? It had better be something at least that pressing, to excuse your sending Billee Bee to collect the letters in your stead. And I don’t know why copies won’t do; Billee says you insist on seeing the originals. Isola would not countenance such a request from any other person on earth, but for you, she’ll do it. Please do be awfully careful with them, Sidney—they are the pride of her heart. And see that you return them in person.

Not that we don’t like Billee Bee. She’s a very enthusiastic guest—she’s outdoors sketching wildflowers this minute. I can see her little cap among the grasses. She thoroughly enjoyed her introduction to the Literary Society last night. She made a little speech at the end of the meeting and even asked Will Thisbee for the recipe of his delicious Apple Puff. This may have been carrying good manners too far—all we could see was a blob of dough that didn’t rise, covering a yellowish substance in the middle and all peppered through with seeds.

I am sorry you weren’t in attendance, for the evening’s speaker was Augustus Sarre, and he spoke on your favorite book, The Canterbury Tales. He chose to read “The Parson’s Tale” first because he knew what a Parson did for a living—not like those other fellows in the book: a Reeve, a Franklin, or a Summoner. “The Parson’s Tale” disgusted him so much he could read no more.

Fortunately for you, I made careful mental notes, so I can give you the gist of his remarks. To wit: Augustus would never let a child of his read Chaucer, it would turn him against Life in general and God in particular. To hear the Parson tell it, life was a cesspool (or as near as), where a man must wade through the muck as best he could; evil ever seeking him out, and evil ever finding him. (Don’t you think Augustus has a touch of the poet about him? I do.)

Poor old man must forever be doing penance or atoning or fasting or lashing himself with knotted ropes. All because he was Born in Sin—and there he’d stay until the last minute of his life, when he would receive God’s Mercy.

“Think of it, friends,” Augustus said, “a lifetime of misery with God not letting you draw one easy breath. Then in your last few minutes—POOF!—you’d get Mercy. Thanks for nothing, I say.

“That’s not all, Friends: man must never think well of himself—that is called the sin of Pride. Friends, show me a man who hates himself, and I’ll show you a man who hates his neighbors more! He’d have to—you’d not grant anyone else something you can’t have for yourself—no love, no kindness, no respect! So I say, Shame on the Parson! Shame on Chaucer!” Augustus sat down with a thump.