The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society

Two hours of lively discussion on Original Sin and Predestination followed. Finally, Remy stood to speak—she’d never done so before, and the room fell silent. She said softly, “If there is Predestination, then God is the devil.” No one could argue with that—what kind of God would intentionally design Ravensbruck?

Isola is having several of us to supper tonight, with Billee Bee as guest of honor. Isola said that though she doesn’t like rifling through a stranger’s hair, she will read Billee Bee’s bumps, as a favor to her dear friend Sidney.

Love,

Juliet

Telegram from Susan Scott to Juliet

24th August, 1946

DEAR JULIET: AM APPALLED BILLEE BEE ON GUERNSEY TO COLLECT LETTERS. STOP! DO NOT—I REPEAT—DO NOT TRUST HER. DO NOT GIVE HER ANYTHING. IVOR, OUR NEW SUB-EDITOR, SAW BILLEE BEE AND GILLY GILBERT (HE OF THE LONDON HUE AND CRY AND LATE VICTIM OF YOUR TEAPOT THROWING) EXCHANGING LONG, LOOSE-LIPPED KISSES IN THE PARK. THE TWO OF THEM TOGETHER BODES ILL. SEND HER PACKING, WITHOUT THE WILDE LETTERS. LOVE, SUSAN

From Juliet to Susan

25th August, 1946

2:00 a.m.

Dear Susan,

You are a heroine! Isola herewith grants you an honorary membership in the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, and Kit is making you a special present that involves sand and paste (you’ll want to open that parcel outdoors).

The telegram came in the nick of time. Isola and Kit had gone out early to collect herbs, and Billee Bee and I were alone in the house—I thought—when I read your telegram. I bolted up the stairs and into her room—she was gone, her suitcase was gone, her handbag was gone, and the letters were gone!

I was terrified. I ran downstairs and telephoned Dawsey to come quick and help hunt for her. He did, but first he called Booker and asked him to check the harbor. He was to stop Billee Bee from leaving Guernsey—at any cost!

Dawsey arrived quickly and we hurried down the road toward town.

I was half-trotting along behind him, looking in hedgerows and behind bushes. We had drawn even with Isola’s farm when Dawsey suddenly stopped short and began to laugh.

There, sitting on the ground in front of Isola’s smokehouse, were Kit and Isola. Kit was holding her new quilted ferret (a gift from Billee Bee) and a big brown envelope. Isola was sitting on Billee Bee’s suitcase—a Portrait of Innocence, the both of them—while an awful squawking was coming from inside the smokehouse.

I rushed to hug Kit and the envelope to me, while Dawsey undid the wooden peg from the smokehouse hasp. There, crouched in a corner, cursing and flailing, was Billee Bee—Isola’s parrot, Zenobia, flapping around her. She had already snatched off Billee Bee’s little cap, and pieces of angora wool were floating through the air.

Dawsey lifted her up and brought her outside—Billee Bee screaming all the while. She’d been set upon by a crazed witch. Assaulted by her Familiar, a child—clearly one of the Devil’s Own! We’d regret it! There’d be lawsuits, arrests, prison for the lot of us! We’d not see daylight again!

“It’s you who won’t see daylight, you sneak! Robber! Ingrate!” shouted Isola.

“You stole those letters,” I screamed. “You stole them from Isola’s biscuit tin and tried to sneak off with them! What were you and Gilly Gilbert going to do with them?”

Billee Bee shrieked, “None of your business! Wait till I tell him what you’ve done to me!”

“You do that little thing!” I snapped. “Tell the world about you and Gilly. I can see the headlines now—‘Gilly Gilbert Seduces Girl to Life of Crime!’ ‘From Love-Nest to Lock-up! See Page Three!’ ”

That shushed her for a moment and then, with the exquisite timing and presence of a great actor, Booker arrived, looking huge and vaguely official in an old army coat. Remy was with him, carrying a hoe! Booker viewed the scene and glared so fiercely at Billee Bee, I was almost sorry for her.

He took her arm and said, “Now, you’ll collect your rightful belongings and take your leave. I’ll not arrest you— not this time! I will escort you to the harbor and personally put you aboard the next boat to England.”

Billee Bee stumbled forward and gathered up her suitcase and handbag—then she made a lunge for Kit and yanked the quilted ferret out of her arms. “I’m sorry I ever gave it to you, you little brat.”

How I wanted to slap her! So I did—and I feel sure it jarred her back teeth loose. I don’t know but what island living is getting to me.

My eyes are falling shut on me, but I must tell you the reason for Kit and Isola’s early-morning herb collecting. Isola felt Billee Bee’s head bumps last night and didn’t like her reading at all. B.B.’s Duplicitous Bump was big as a goose egg. Then—Kit told her she’d seen Billee Bee in her kitchen, prowling through the shelves. That was enough for Isola, and they set their surveillance plan in motion. They would shadow Billee Bee today and see what they would see!

They rose early, skulked behind bushes, and saw Billee Bee tiptoeing out of my back door with a big envelope. They followed her a bit, until she passed by Isola’s farm. Isola pounced and manhandled her into the smokehouse. Kit gathered all of Billee Bee’s possessions from the dirt, and Isola went to get her claustrophobic parrot, Zenobia, and threw her into the smokehouse with Billee Bee.

But, Susan, what on earth were she and Gilly Gilbert going to do with the letters? Weren’t they worried about being arrested for thieving?