The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society by Mary Ann Shaffer Read Free Book Online Page A

child—with an unusual bent for integrity in one so young.
    I will tell you of one incident when she was ten years old. Juliet, while singing the fourth verse of ‘His Eye Is on the Sparrow’, slammed her hymnal shut and refused to sing another note. She told our choir master that the words cast a slur on God’s character. We should not be singing it. He (the choir master, not God) didn’t know what to do, so he escorted Juliet to my study for me to reason with her.
    I did not fare very well. Juliet said, ‘Well, he shouldn’t have written, “His eye is on the sparrow”—what good was that? Did He stop the bird dying? Did He just say, “Oops”? It makes God sound like He’s off bird-watching when real people need Him.’
    I felt compelled to agree with Juliet on this matter—why had I never thought about it before? The choir has not sung ‘His Eye Is on the Sparrow’ since then.
    Juliet’s parents died when she was twelve and she was sent to live with her great-uncle, Dr Roderick Ashton, in London. Though not an unkind man, he was so mired in his Greco-Roman studies he had no time to take any notice of the girl. He had no imagination, either—fatal for someone bringing up a child.
    She ran away twice, the first time making it only as far as King’s Cross Station. The police found her waiting, with a packed canvas bag and her father’s fishing rod, to catch the train to Bury St Edmunds. She was returned to Dr Ashton—and she ran away again. This time, Dr Ashton telephoned me to ask for my help in finding her.
    I knew exactly where to go—to her parents’ former farm. I found her opposite the farm’s entrance, sitting on a little wooded knoll, impervious to the rain—just sitting there, soaked—looking at her old (now sold) home.
    I sent a telegram to her uncle and went back with her on the train to London the following day. I had intended to return to my parish on the next train, but when I discovered her fool of an uncle had sent his cook to fetch her, I insisted on accompanying them. I invaded his study and we had a vigorous talk. He agreed that a boarding school might be best for Juliet—her parents had left ample funds for such an eventuality.
    Fortunately, I knew of a very good school—St Swithin’s. Academically fine, and with a headmistress not carved from granite. I am happy to tell you Juliet thrived there—she found her lessons stimulating, but I believe the true reason for Juliet’s regained spirits was her friendship with Sophie Stark—and the Stark family. She often went to Sophie’s home at half-term, and Juliet and Sophie came twice to stay with me and my sister at the Rectory. What jolly times we shared: picnics, bicycle rides, fishing. Sophie’s brother, Sidney Stark, joined us once—though ten years older than the girls, and despite an inclination to boss them around, he was a welcome fifth to our happy party.
    It was rewarding to watch Juliet grow up—as it is now to know her fully grown. I am very glad that she asked me to write to you of her character.
    I have included our small history together so that you will realise I know whereof I speak. If Juliet says she will, she will. If she says she won’t, she won’t.
    Very truly yours,
    Simon Simpless
    From Susan Scott to Juliet
17th February 1946
    Dear Juliet,
    Was that possibly
you
I glimpsed in this week’s
Tatler
, doing the rumba with Mark Reynolds? You looked gorgeous—almost as gorgeous as he did—but might I suggest that you move to an air-raid shelter before Sidney sees a copy?
    You can buy my silence with torrid details, you know.
    Yours,
    Susan
    From Juliet to Susan Scott
18th February 1946
    Dear Susan,
    I deny everything.
    Love,
    Juliet
    From Amelia to Juliet
18th February 1946
    Dear Miss Ashton,
    Thank you for taking my caveat so seriously. At the Society meeting last night, I told