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For God's sake, Eben. Keep it down.

Keep it down.

Oh, sweetest pork I ever tasted, Dawsey.

Succulent. And,

Isola...

- your gin... - Shh. Shh.

He'll get us all arrested!

- Eben. - Shh!

You two go on.

I'll take him back over the field.

Sod 'em!

This is our island, our home, not theirs!

Those square-headed buggers can shove...

Stop!

Papers!

Of course, Ca...

- The pig was beautiful, Dawsey. - Shh!

- That bloody pie, though. - You are breaking curfew.

What is the purpose of your assembly?

- We were, we were just... - Reading.

- We have a book club, you see. - Hmm.

You know the authorities are trying to...

encourage cultural association as part of your,

model occupation.

Yes, yes, book lovers, that's us.

What is the name of your club?

- The Guernsey Literary and... - The bloody potato peel pie...

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie...

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.

Yes. It should be on the list. Guernsey Literary...

You're not confiscating potato peelings yet, are you?

This is an illegal assembly. You will come with us.

All of you!

You all right, Eben?

Shall I help put him into your car?

You will register this group,

first thing in the morning!

Thank you.

Oh, the bus is here! Quick, run!

Oh, so, The Times have been on to me.

Fresh paint.

When was the last time you saw that?

Ah...

One might almost believe the war is really over.

Yes, they wanted you to do an article about reading.

Ugh. No, Sidney, no.

I... I don't think I'm much up for anymore of Izzy.

Actually, they want Juliet Ashton.

It's your own voice this time. I've said yes.

Oh, have you?

Well, you might have said no and I make better decisions.

So, your book tour starts Monday week. Bath to Yorkshire.

The Times will fill the gap nicely.

There we are.

Oh!

Speaking of which, here we are.

Our stop.

Thank you.

- Miss Ashton? - Yes?

Have you always wanted to be a writer?

Always, yes. It's a perfect job.

Sitting indoors, and always near a teapot.

It has its ups and downs. My first book,

A Critical Biography of Anne Bronte, sold only...

How many copies, Sidney?

My publisher, Mr. Sidney Stark.

Twenty-eight copies...

worldwide.

Why Izzy Bickerstaff?

Why not write under your own name?

But I'm... I'm not sure which came to me first.

Izzy's name or his voice.

In either case, they both seemed to suit the tone of the task,

much better than my own.

Are you working on a new book?

Well, I'm not sure I'd call Izzy a book

as much as a collection of faintly amusing essays.

Yes, I am.

English Foibles.

Uh, a miscellany of English absurdity.

For example, there's a London society for public decency...

which advocates trousers for horses.

Ah, a pleasure to meet you, Miss Ashton.

- A delight. - Oh.

I'm such a huge fan.

- Thank you. - Well, poor, old Izzy, huh?

Had no use for a war, did he?

Only wanted to be left alone with his pint.

Here we are.

Quite frankly, Izzy Bickerstaff is why you get

first dibs here, Miss Ashton.

But you mustn't dally. No.

It's sure to go in a flash.

Father's paperweight.

Juliet?

Juliet,

where are you?

Come back from the edge! No!

It's all right.

Pure crystal.

Oh, yes. This is very nice.

Do you...

see the crystal, Juliet?

Lovely.

Wonderful view of Kensington Gardens.

Albert Hall, round the corner.

It's a steal at this price.

It is beautiful.

I knew you'd love it.

I'm terribly sorry.

Long last you can afford something smart. Rejoice.

I feel a complete fraud here.

Juliet, you really do need something better than a poky bedsit in Battersea,

with three suitcases and a typewriter.

- I realize. - Oh, I see.

Poor thing, you feel you haven't suffered enough.

Oh, I expect not.

Well, far be it for me to...

relieve you of your solemn duty, but I'll tell you what,

we will buy

a new flat for everyone else in London who was bombed out,

just as soon as Izzy hits number one.

Will that make it better?

It is a strong start.

This could be a proper home.

It is a proper home, Sidney.

It's just not mine.

- Excuse me. - Hey, come on! Don't be shy.

Coming through.

Oh, you'll need an enormous window

to put your desk in front of.

'Cause you don't get enough sun as it is.

Waiter, I'll keep the bottle.

Fireplace to keep you warm,

- when you're not with me. - Markham Reynolds,

diplomat and clairvoyant.

- You're a wonder. - At your service.

Right.

But what good is a window

if I haven't given you a view?

Whoa!

Woo!

Watch this.

Woo!

Mr. Reynolds, I've asked you to stop.

Oh, God, you've been caught.

Yet, still you persist. Look at this.

Do you imagine I've got a storeroom

just brimming with vases for my tenants to use?

I apologize again, Mrs. Burns.

Times are tough.

Florists, they need the work.

Flowers.

Hope she knows what a lucky girl she is.

- Come on. - Goodbye, Mrs. Burns.

- Goodnight. - Goodnight.

- Your mail. - Ah...

- Thank you. - And your flowers.

Oh...

Oh, please keep the flowers for yourself, Mrs. Burns,

- won't you? - Oh...

- Hmm. - Thank you.

And no more typing now, Miss Ashton.

- It's well after ten. - Okay.

Sound of that clatter, worse than gunfire.

Forwarded from Oakley Street.

"Dear Miss Ashton, my name is Dawsey Adams.

I live on my farm on the island of Guernsey."

Guernsey?

"I know of you because I have an old book."

The Selected Essays of Elia, by Charles Lamb...

"that has your name and address written inside."

I've read it many times.

There wasn't much else to do here during the Occupation

and Charles Lamb made me laugh.

"especially when he wrote about the roast pig."

I am part of a book club,

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society,

that we actually formed because we had to keep

a roast pig secret from the Germans.

So, I like Charles Lamb.

Which is why I'm writing to yo. The Germans are gone now,

but there are no bookshops left on Guernsey.

I am looking for a copy of Charles Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare,

which I understand he wrote for children.

Could you send me the address of a bookshop in London?

I hope not to trouble you.

Dawsey Adams.

Dear Mr. Adams,

I am so pleased your letter found me and that my book found you.

It was a sad wrench to part with Mr. Lamb,

but I was rather low on funds at the time.

Perhaps, there are some secret sort of homing instincts

in books that brings them to their perfect readers.

- Thank you. - How delightful if that were true.

- Here. - I'll take it.

I have located Lamb's Shakespeare

and I am happy to present it to you

in exchange for the answers to three questions.

Why did a roasted pig have to be kept a secret?

How could a pig cause you to begin a literary society?

And, most pressing of all,

what is a Potato Peel Pie?

♪ And darn your eyes ♪

♪ They lift me high Above the moonlit skies ♪

♪ Then I tumble Out of paradise ♪

♪ Oh, darn that dream ♪

♪ Darn that one-track mind Of mine ♪

♪ I can't understand That you don't care ♪

♪ Just to change The mood I'm in... ♪

Excuse me.

Hi.

Wow.

Welcome.

♪ But it haunts me And it won't come true ♪

♪ Oh, darn that dream ♪

You know, if I drink with them...

That dress is too lovely to have a cloud

parked on your forehead.

Do you ever feel like we've emerged

from a long, black tunnel into a carnival?

Do you not like carnivals?

After a long black tunnel, a carnival's wonderful.

Let's dance.

You know, I've been giving some more thought to your view.

Sidney's lined up

some more flats for me to see. It's just a matter

- of making the time. - Oh, it's occurred me...

there's apartments on Fifth Avenue.

Look out over Central Park.

With views of the lake,

the entire reservoir.

There's even a little pond where kids sail model boats.

I've never been to New York.

Well, it'd be really fun to show you my city.

That's something worth thinking about.

Dear Miss Ashton. Thank you for finding me

a copy of Mr. Lamb's Tales from Shakespeare.

And even more, for sending it as a gift.

I am happy to settle this debt by answering your questions.

A roast pig had to be kept a secret

because the Germans took all our animals away in 1940,

to feed their soldiers on the Continent.

This is my farm!

- These are my pigs! - It was against the law

to keep even one.

Yes.

They ordered me to grow potatoes.

Food was already scarce by the first winter of the Occupation.

A proper meal was had only in memory,

like our radios, which they'd taken,

and the post, which they'd suspended,

and the telegraph cables that they'd cut.

We lived our lives in isolation.

Then one day...

Butcher's knife?

Mrs. Maugery.

How can I help?

See? I told you he'd come.

Hey, old girl.

While Mrs. Maugery had hidden the pig away...

I hope you don't think less of me.

The idea of roasting it and hosting a dinner

belonged to Elizabeth McKenna.

We were all hungry,

but it was Elizabeth who realized

our true starvation...

for connection,

the company of other people.

For fellowship.

- Amelia? - Oh!

- Thank you so much for having me. - Oh, it's a pleasure.

Oh, my goodness.

Miss Isola Pribby, another neighbor,

provided the gin, which she makes herself,

along with other herbal remedis and home cures.

- That's what we've got tonight. - Oh.

Miss Pribby.

Oh, thank you.

- Cheers. - Cheers.

May I take your coat?

Dawsey!

Didn't know you'd be here.

- Evening, Eben. - Ah, Amelia.

Eben Ramsey, our local postmaster,

- brought... - An entirely new creation.

A potato peel pie.

No butter, no flour,

just potatoes...

and potato peelings.

- Oh. That sounds lovely. - Wonderful.

Pat, Pat Murphy was getting on a bit

- and he sort of lost his spark. - Yes.

We all knew each other, of course, but not well.

It was Elizabeth, we had in common.

And for a few hours, she brought us together,

and helped us forget the Occupation,

the Germans, war. Everything we had lost.

And to remember our humanity.

It was for her husband. And he was found

- underneath his wife. - Oh, no.

Maybe he died of natural causes,

but I think it was probably my tincture.

Really?

Stop!

What is the name of your club?

After that, we had no choice but to make,

the Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society real.

Careful, careful. Careful.

- Shh. - Yes, take that.

And this is how I came to know of Charles Lamb.

Don't read it now.

Oh, my God.

Okay, let's go, go, go.

It's the last log.

And there's this one by Anthony Trollope.

- Trollope. - Anyone interested?

- Yes. - Well, let Dawsey...

I wouldn't want to read that.

Mary Shelley...

- Yeats? W.B. Yeats? W.B. Yeats? - Oh.

Not for me.

"Jane Austen knew whereof she spoke,"

and she spoke most elegantly.

"Malice is what holds a society together."

- Hmm. - That,

and a reliable postal service.

"At bottom..."

propriety...

is concern for other people.

When that goes out the window,

the gates of hell are surely opened.

"And ignorance is king." Shh...

Shh.

The monitor never returned.

Our Friday night book club became a refuge to us.

A private freedom

to feel the world growing darker all around you,

but need only a candle to see new worlds unfold.

That is what we found in our society.

But I don't need to tell you this.

You already know what books can do.

That's something we share...

different as our lives may be.

Dear Mr. Adams...

books have been a refuge for me, too.

When I lost my parents,

it was the world of books where I made my home.

They saved me,

absolutely.

I beg your forgiveness in advance in inviting myself,

but I must come and meet your society.

I so hope that you might allow me to sit in on your meeting

and to learn more of your story.

Let's lay the blame at Charles Lamb's feet

in allowing me to think I might be welcome at all.

Yours sincerely, Juliet Ashton.

P.S. While I am a reader first, I am also a writer.

I offer this as proof that I come to you in peace.

- Sidney... - Just, just...

- Sidney... - hold on one second.

What the Dickens did I... Mrs. B? Thank you.

Juliet, you cannot

go to a book club meeting on the Island of Guernsey.

Well, it's a leap of faith they'll even let me in.

You're reading in Cambridge, Friday.

But the Society, they meet on a Friday.

I can't wait.

I'll only be gone the weekend, back Monday.

- Edinburgh. - You're in Edinburgh, Monday!

I honestly don't know why we provide you with an itinerary,

I really don't. I don't, I just don't.

Well, this is your fault. You said yes to The Times.

Excuse me, my fault?

Sidney... What books, what...

reading did for these people.

Finally, I'll have something serious to write.

This wouldn't be just to get out of reading Izzy in Cambridge, would it?

Oh.

You're not...

- You're not running away? - You're too funny.

Well, I can't imagine Mark would let you get very far anyway.

- Let me? - Mm-hmm.

You have everything you need?

Um...

yes, I do.

Say that again.

What? I have everything.

Mark, it's the English Channel, not the China Seas.

Say, "I do,"

or simply say, "Yes."

What?

Juliet...

let me give you your perfect home.

I already know mine's with you.

All right, whether it's here, New York, or the North Pole.

I want to make that home together.

Ours.

Say you'll marry me, Juliet.

- Yes. - I know we've only been together

for six months, but they've been the happiest six...

Yes.

- Yes? - Yes.

Congratulations.

Well...

Just...

Morning.

I'll get another load.

Excuse me.

I was looking for a place to stay.

Peter, watch it!

Sorry.

Try at the Post Office. They... they should be able to help you out.

- Right. - Heads up!

Sorry, below!

Th... thank you. I think.

Whoa.

Thank you.

- Oh, hello. - Who is it?

- It's a Miss. - What's she want?

Have I had a chance to ask?

I was sent from The Crown Hotel.

Oh, they're closed. Roof's gone.

Yes, uh, I know.

A man over there said that you might be able to...

to help with the...

Does he come out from behind there?

Not a lot of options at the moment, places to stay.

Uh, least of them is with Charlotte Stimple.

She lets rooms, sometimes. Keeps a clean house.

Uh...

Eli can take you up there, if you like.

Oh, well, I wouldn't want him to have to make a special trip.

Well... Well, he has mail to deliver, anyway.

Ah.

- Well, thank you, then. - Eben Ramsey.

Eben Ramsey?

The Eben Ramsey? Inventor of the Potato Peel Pie?

But you're why I've come.

Him?

You came for his pie?

Uh, no, I came for the meeting of your society.

I've been corresponding with a friend of yours, Mr. Adams.

- The writer? You're the writer? - Yes.

Yes, I am.

I'm Juliet Ashton.

- You're beautiful. - Oh, thank you.

Goodness.

Eli, get the cart. He'll take you right up to Charlotte.

I'll call round, let everybody know you're here.

A real writer...

come to see us.

Whoa!

Five and six a night.

Wonderful.

In advance, if you don't mind.

Uh, of course.

What brings you from London?

And the bathroom is...?

It's just down the hall.

- Towels are just... - Oh, I see it.

- Thank you again. - Oh!

I need your ration coupons if you'd like milk with your tea.

Black tea's lovely, thank you.

- Evening! - Evening.

Whoa. Whoa. Hello.

Mrs. Maugery?

- Good evening, I'm Ju... - Miss Ashton.

Yes, we're expecting you.

- Rather suddenly. - Oh, I know.

I do hope I'm not imposing.

Well, here you are.

Come in.

Thank you.

Um, Miss Ashton?

Oh, Juliet, please.

I'm afraid I've made a mistake and invited...

No, no, no, no, no. We are thrilled to have you.

The last real-life author we had was Clara Saussey.

She read her cookbook to us back in '44.

Barely escaped with her life.

We were famished.

I'm Isola Pribby.

So happy to make your acquaintance.

Um, I'm so...

so happy to join you, um...

- Has Mr. Adams arrived yet? - Dawsey?

Yeah, I've yet to meet him.

You've conjured him.

And your society's founder...

Um, your society's founder, Elizabeth McKenna?

I'm so looking forward to meeting her.

You won't be meeting her.

Oh.

She's off island at present.

Fair Juliet.

- Ah. - We meet again.

Eben.

- So, who's presenting tonight? - Why, you are, of course.

- Me? - Yeah, we were hoping,

uh, you'd read at least the first chapter for us.

None of us having had a chance

yet to read it for ourselves.

- But we can't start without... - Dawsey!

Um, hello.

Hello.

- Dawsey Adams. - Juliet Ashton.

- You two have met. - Thank you.

In a way, yes.

Earlier.

Nearly killed her on the steps of The Crown today.

Oh. Oh, I was thinking in a past life.

But this afternoon does make sense.

Thank you again for the books.

Thank you.

Miss Ashton was just getting ready to read to us from her book.

- Yes, well... - Right.

Let's have a crack at her then, shall we?

Fair Juliet.

Here?

Best of luck.

See you on the other side.

Right.

Right, um...

- The presenter usually stands. - Oh.

Um...

Begin.

"Anne Bronte...

a life."

You think Anne Bronte is better than Charlotte?

- I agree. - I do not.

- The Tenant of Wildfell Hall... - Yes.

A more important book than Wuthering Heights?

- No, no! - The idea!

- No, not better... - I agree with you.

I'm saying that Anne is more modern than Emily.

Right. Particularly with respect to the status of women.

More so than Charlotte Bronte when she wrote Jane Eyre?

Very doubtful. Doubtful, doubtful, doubtful.

- "Do you think..." - I...

because I am poor, obscure, plain and little,

that I am soulless and heartless?

You think wrong!

"I have as much soul as you! And full as much heart!"

- Oh! You did that beautifully! - Are you all right?

I... I do love Jane Eyre.

- Ooh, and as do I! - Jane Eyre. Is that...

As do I. And while Jane's assertion,

"I have as much soul as you,"

was remarkable directed to a gentleman.

- Yes. - It only begins

to get at the idea of equality between them.

In Wildfell Hall, Anne Bronte lay bare

the essential imbalance of power between men and women

in the suffocating, hierarchical structure of Victorian marriage.

She challenged the conventional thinking of an entire society

and changed people's minds.

Well done.

Oh, I had no idea. Anne Bronte, she did quite a bit, didn't she?

Well done, Miss Ashton.

- You kept going, against all the arguments. - That's splendid. Splendid.

But...

I'm afraid you've yet to have the full experience.

- Oh! - I find that difficult to believe.

That's the second attack you've survived today. It was good.

- An authentic potato peel pie. - Oh...

Original recipe.

Uh, no butter, no flour.

No, uh, well, it's potatoes,

uh, and potato peelings.

You'll want this gin quick after.

Oh.

Give a little taste, here.

- Is this safe? - It's just potatoes.

Um...

Quick, here.

It... it's the worst.

- It's just awful! - It's horrible. Horrible.

- The gin's very good though. - Ooh! She likes mine.

Still, Mr. Ramsey, I would love to get

- the recipe from you if I could. - She's mad drunk already.

It would be lovely to include in the article,

people adore that sort of detail.

Article?

What article?

Oh, forgive me.

I've got ahead of myself, uh...

The Times has asked me to write an article on reading.

And I'd like very much to write about you.

All of you,

the Society.

You painted such a vivid story in your letters.

- You came to write about us? - It's for The London Times.

I mean, only with all your permission, of course.

I'm sure there are more interesting subjects to write on.

Oh, no, but your...

The story of your group and how it was formed, I'm sure that

- so many would find it as inspiring as I... - Oh, I don't think so.

- Oh, no, I'm certain they would. - No.

I'm sure we're not interested

in inspiring the readers of The London Times.

Thank you all the same.

I see, I'm sorry, I...

I'm sorry to press, but I'd like to understand.

But how could you understand?

And, uh, and...

And... And people...

People wouldn't.

I'm sorry, you've come all this way for nothing.

I had a dream.

Come here.

- And who's this? - This is Kit.

Elizabeth's daughter.

Daddy...

can we go home now?

Yes.

We're going soon.

I'm so sorry if I embarrassed you.

I feel I owe you an enormous apology.

An apology for what?

For assuming your friends were mine.

Making myself the uninvited guest.

And a complete ass.

And for imagining everyone would think being featured

in The London Times was just a glorious gift.

Amelia is a private person.

I wouldn't give it too much thought.

You sent two books to a stranger.

You can't be all bad, Miss Ashton.

And I'd feel much better if you called me Juliet.

Thank you for coming

and for letting me put a face to the name,

Juliet.

Oh.

Thank you.

Goodnight, then.

Bouan gniet.

Huh.

I believe I mentioned I like to lock my door by nine.

Oh, sorry.

I... I...

- I hope I didn't keep you up. - You did.

- 10:15 you came in. - I was at Amelia Maugery's,

um, meeting with the reading group.

- There was such a lot to talk about... - I know who you were with.

They're never short of talk.

You just be wise not to believe everything they tell you.

Um, I don't understand.

There's more to that story than they like to let on.

More to what story?

Miss Ashton,

I have never been one to gossip.

So, the less said on any of it,

the better.

Wh...

Well, you'll be happy to learn

I did read before an audience last night, after all.

Oh, yes?

Your farmer-in-the-dell put you to work, did he?

How did Izzy play in the Channel Islands?

Actually, they requested that I read

from the Bronte biography.

Blimey, wherever did they dig one up?

- It was a very big hit. - Oh, I'm sure it was.

Oh! Stone the crows, Mrs. B. Good morning.

But, um...

they don't want me writing about them.

Oh, a tremendous hit! I get you back early now.

Are you on your way, darling?

- Well, uh... - Oh, Mrs. B,

- rebook Edinburgh for a week... - No, no. No, Sidney?

- I'm still here. - What on earth for?

Listen, um...

Listen, Sidney, I... I have other news.

All right.

- I'm bracing myself for it. - Uh...

I...

I hope you won't mind giving me away.

- What's that? - I'm engaged...

to be married.

Mark proposed.

Sidney?

Sidney?

Yes, darling, hello. Um, congratulations.

That's marvelous news. The best news.

- Are you happy? - Yes. Happy.

- Are you sure? - Yes, Sidney. I'm very happy.

All right, I'm very happy too, then.

- And Mark? Mark happy? - Yes.

- Mark there with you? - No, he...

Well, he sprung it on me at the boat. I came alone.

Sid...

Sidney, hello? Sidney?

One and eleven, please.

Are you enjoying the Kipling?

I am. I'm still catching up.

Didn't have much school in Dereham.

But the Society have taken me in hand.

I'll be a genius by the end of the year.

- What were you doing in Dereham? - It's where I was sent for the war.

When they evacuated us kids.

I didn't know they evacuated here as well.

Right before the Occupation,

when the Germans were just across the water in France.

Everyone knew they'd be coming here next.

We only heard the night before.

England sent ships.

Let's have a look at you.

Come here now.

All right.

Parents behind the line.

Only children on the jetty.

Take a label, please. Labels.

Go. Go, go, go. Come on, let's go. Quickly now.

Come on, everyone. This way.

Take a label. Keep it safe.

Thank you.

There.

- Eli, here you are. - Good boy.

There we go.

Ready for your adventure?

Come with me.

Give me your hand.

I promise I'll look after your grandfather, Eli.

Don't worry.

Even you can't fight the Germans, Miss, when they come.

And they might come to England, too.

Give me your hand.

My father was given this in The Great War,

for courage.

And the thing is, anyone who keeps it close

can't help but be brave, even when they're scared.

Do you feel it?

Well, you need to rub it then.

The magic only starts when it gets warm.

- I feel it now. - That's a good lad.

Now, you bring that back safe to me.

Strictly, no parents in the port.

There he is.

Worst day of the war.

It nearly broke us, that day.

When the Germans landed a few days later,

we were only half here.

Our hearts...

were already elsewhere.

It's worn smooth.

I needed a lot of courage.

Oh, cheer up, Eli. You'll give it back to her.

There's people coming home all the time, just like you.

Coming home?

How long has Elizabeth been gone?

Oh.

What a day that was.

Eli was the first boy down the gangway.

He'd grown long legs in five years.

Who would recognize him?

Me.

I would.

Care for a scone?

Fresh baked.

The Germans arrested her in '44. Sent her to the Continent.

Arrested her? Why?

I don't know. I wasn't there.

And they don't say.

I was hoping to bribe you for a tour, in exchange for

some of Eben's scones.

Much better than his potato pie.

Yes.

- I hope so. - Come on.

Thank you.

- Come on! - Careful, Kit!

It's okay.

She knows where she's going.

Sorry, I would take my shoes off

if it weren't for all the wire.

Don't you worry about the wire.

It's the mines you want to be careful of.

The mines?

I'm sorry.

Sorry, that's not funny.

Oh.

That's not funny at all.

They did mine the beaches, though.

The whole perimeter of the island.

It took some doing but we finally got it all cleared out.

You're safe.

Good.

What are those?

One of the German lookouts.

They put them up on every point facing out to sea.

And they set gun positions all along the coast.

Turned Guernsey into a fortress.

Or a prison.

You were locked up here?

They locked themselves in with us, too.

Well, it would have to take someone cruel to build anything,

as ugly as these in such a beautiful place.

They didn't build them,

the Germans, they only designed them.

Who then?

Todt workers, they were called.

They were slaves. Thousands of them.

Sent by the Reich, to labor. From Poland, Russia.

Worked all day and all night.

They were kept in pens with the sun beating down on them,

the rain.

You wouldn't even treat animals like that.

We islanders almost starved.

But they did,

starved and...

and died.

Dawsey...

I know that this is none of my business, but...

can you tell me why Elizabeth was sent away?

What happened?

She helped someone...

and was arrested.

Helped someone?

Well, do you have any idea where she is?

Or have you not even heard from her?

Anything else for you, mate?

No, that's all, thank you.

- Hello. - Oh, Juliet.

What a nice surprise. I... I thought you'd left.

No, not quite yet.

And certainly not without some of your gin.

Ah.

I wanted to get some for my friend, Sidney.

Sidney.

See, I... I knew you had someone in your heart.

- Oh... - I could tell it when we met.

Well, not... not... not right when we met, but shortly after.

Such a... Oh...

Strong feeling. What flavor do you think Sidney would like?

- What are my choices? - Well, let's see,

we've got anise accented, delphinium dusted.

Isola, how exactly is all this legal?

Oh, I'm not sure it is.

But the, um, the Sergeant seems to like it.

Oh...

- Oh, yes. - Do you want some?

I did hear about Elizabeth,

that she was arrested.

Do you suppose that's why Amelia didn't want me to write about the society?

Good girl.

Is it to do with Elizabeth?

With who she helped?

The thing you need to understand is that

Elizabeth is like another daughter to Amelia.

- Another daughter? - After Amelia's daughter, Jane,

she and Elizabeth were the best of friends.

Elizabeth used to visit every summer from London, since she was a girl.

That's her cottage over here.

She could have left in 1940, in the big evacuations, but...

Jane was pregnant.

So, she stayed...

for Jane.

Then the Germans struck and it was too late for everybody.

And that's where I saw Amelia, with Elizabeth.

At the hospital.

Jane had got caught in a bombing in town and went into labor.

Jane lost the baby.

And then they lost Jane.

Leave her.

Leave her.

The Germans came three days later.

We beat 'em in '18.

Here they are again.

How did we let this happen?

Shame! Shame on all of you!

- Elizabeth! - Shame for Poland, for France,

now Guernsey! Shame!

Come here. Come here. Come here.

It's all right. It's all right.

Miss, you have to stay back.

It's all right. It's all right. She's fine.

It's nothing. She just got a bit overexcited.

She's not doing anything. She's going to be stopped now.

I'm very, very sorry.

All right, but who are you defending?

And whose side are you on?

Then both of you! Go on, go about your duties.

Go about your duties.

I've lost two people already.

I can't afford to lose you, too.

But she has lost her, hasn't she?

The Germans have taken Elizabeth.

That's why I think Amelia doesn't wanna talk about the society.

Why she wouldn't want anyone to write about it.

Too painful.

She's lost so much.

- I didn't know. - The war goes on...

for us.

Especially Amelia.

I don't expect it will really be over until Elizabeth's home.

And Kit's with her mother again.

Here's the rest of '40 to '41.

Thank you.

Mrs. Maugery?

Mrs. Maugery, good morning.

Miss Ashton, morning.

Thought you'd be gone by now.

Yeah, I'd planned to but I was...

I was curious, and I wanted to do some research.

- Well, don't let me keep you. - Research on the Occupation.

Yes, I gathered that. It wouldn't be about...

- Good morning, madam. - The local flora and fauna,

would it, now?

- I'm not writing about the Society... - Morning.

I... I promise.

I lost people too, Mrs. Maugery.

People I miss sorely.

Everyone lost someone in this war.

My parents.

I know what it is to be without a mother.

If you'd let me, I'd like to try and help.

Do whatever I can

to find Elizabeth and bring her home.

For Kit.

Please.

M-C-K-E-N-N-A,

Elizabeth Anne McKenna.

British national.

Twenty-eight years old.

Do you have the date of her deportation?

No, not exactly. She was...

she was arrested on June 11th.

- June 11th. Hey. - Uh, they think she was sent...

- Hey! - Yes, sir.

They think she was sent off island sometime in the following few days.

Do you know where she was sent?

No, only to the Continent.

Has anyone heard anything since?

No.

Oh, um...

- If anyone can do it, we can. - Mark, thank you.

The war's not over for them. It won't be.

Not until this child's mother is home.

Until then, all they can do is wait.

Well I do know a little something about what that's like.

I told you,

- just another day or so. - Right, right, right, right.

Researching, I got it.

Excuse me, Major, I...

You can't blame me for being a little impatient.

You know I put a ring on a girl and she disappeared.

Well, she's right here. Back soon.

Back by Wednesday. We're having dinner with the Cavanaghs.

Best efforts.

Come on, piggy.

- Come on, piggy, have a little... - Come on, come on.

Come here.

Ready?

It is loud.

Take it. You know, you hold it.

- Come on. - Right.

Whoa.

You know it now.

Um, Dawsey, I think you may have a problem.

Oh, right.

- That's good. You stay here. - Kit, the pigs have gone wild.

It wouldn't be about them.

Just the Occupation.

I thought you said they didn't want to be part of The Times article?

Times article? Oh no, no, no, that's long ove.

I'm talking about...

I don't know what I'm talking about yet, but, Sidney,

- it's so compelling. - That date's gone.

As bad as it was for us,

these people had to actually live with their enemy.

Any idea when I might be able to tell

someone that you'll pop by their shop for a reading?

I've been talking to all the islanders, to everyone.

- Their personal stories... - Juliet.

All right, I'm all ears.

I surrender.

Thank you.

"Dawsey Adams was sentenced to three weeks in jail

for the attack and battery of Mr. Edward Meares."

Dawsey

attacked a man?

I'm sorry.

I see you with them,

and I hear you writing away up there,

and I worry

very much,

what story it is that

they have you putting down.

I'm compiling notes on the Occupation of Guernsey.

Tall tales of her heroic kindness and virtue, I'm sure.

Elizabeth McKenna...

- was no saint. - Well...

- who among us is? - Mark me, she will be judged.

Nothing more than a common jerrybag.

No better than any of those other little sluts

who dropped their knickers for extra rations or for cigarettes.

For lipsticks.

Littering the island with their filthy, half-German bastards.

- Half what? - See,

I knew.

I knew they didn't share that with you.

Her adorable little secret being raised in her absence...

by that lot.

Are you sure she was talking about Elizabeth?

I'm not even going to repeat what she said.

That is an excellent tack to take.

Isola, she more than implied in the least polite way,

that Kit is partly German.

We're all partly something, Juliet.

And then some.

Isola.

Is Kit Dawsey's child...

- Dawsey's child. - Or not?

Why does she call him Daddy?

It's not my story to tell.

She's four years old.

She needs to call somebody Daddy.

Presumably her father would be the best candidate.

But that's...

that's not you.

His name's Christian Hellman.

And he is a German, Dawsey?

- A Nazi? Like... like Charlotte said? - No.

No! Yes.

Yes, but...

not like Charlotte said.

He was my friend.

Frank Hood had a milk cow back in '41.

Got into trouble bringing in her calf.

I don't know why she's carrying on.

I can feel two legs right here.

- And the nose. - She's a little early.

But...

I heard the animal from the road.

It's too noisy for you?

We'll try to keep it down.

What is the matter with her?

Just sorting that out.

But you're welcome to put your head up inside if you want to look around.

We don't want trouble. We'll register the birth,

- if it lives. - I'm a doctor.

Let me help.

Keep it tight.

Good girl, good girl.

Good girl.

Come on.

Shh.

Shh.

- Good girl. - Shh.

Good girl.

It's good.

She's good.

She's good.

Shoulder?

Got kicked by a horse when I was a boy.

Break wasn't set right.

Do you have pain?

Only because it keeps me out of a uniform.

Keeps me from fighting you.

The look on Elizabeth's face when she sw Christian and me together.

And then I saw Christian's face.

It's all right, he's a friend.

I've always wondered which one of us she meant when she said that.

They'd met at the hospital where Christian was stationed.

They knew how dangerous it was, to both of them.

I should have said more. I should have told them to be more careful

but she was happy.

Yes, it is, yes, it is. Hello, gents.

- How are you doing? - Ah, brilliant.

- Good to see you. - Hello.

Hello.

What...

What are you doing in here?

Well, the menu at Charlotte Stimple's is...

limited.

And you find this an improvement?

- It's... it's not London. - I... I don't mind. I like it.

- Who's with Kit? - Amelia's looking after her.

- We've been finishing the hotel roof. - Ah.

Can I buy you a drink?

A glass of beer.

Pint and a half, please.

Here you are.

Thank you.

What?

Well...

you are not what I expected.

No?

How did you imagine me, Mr. Adams,

when you wrote me a letter?

Tweed hunting skirt. Very...

large in the bottom.

Teeth like a horse.

Few wisps of ginger-grey hair.

- Um, glasses thick as jam jars. - She sounds lovely.

And you?

Who was the pig farmer you sent books to?

I did have a couple of ideas.

But it was more of a sense

that I was writing to someone who already understood me.

I didn't have to explain myself to you too much.

- How many of these have you had? - Oh.

Well, I suppose it was because of Charles Lamb.

- To Charles Lamb, then. - Yes.

"Contented with little,

- "yet wishing for more." - Ah.

Bravo.

"The beasts are very wise."

Their mouths are clean of lies.

But man with goad and whip, breaks up their fellowship.

When he has ploughed his land, he says, 'they understand.'

But the beasts install together,

Freed from the yoke and tether.

Say as the torn flanks smoke,

- nay... - "Nay..."

it was the whip that spoke."

Oh.

Well read, Eli.

Really well done.

He told you about Christian.

You know.

Some, yes.

Why don't you put the kettle on?

I'll see the others out.

Goodnight, my darling. Off to bed now.

- Oh. - Goodnight.

Oh, come and give me a kiss.

- Goodnight, nanny. - Good girl.

I was so against him.

When she brought him here for a meeting.

"'Rot you', murmured the man, in a horrible passion

between his clenched teeth."

"If I had only had the courage to say the word,"

I might have been free of you in a night.

Curses on your head and black death

on your heart, you imp.

'What are you doing here?' The man shook his fist

"as he uttered these words incoherently."

Do you not care that I love him?

It disgusts me.

He killed Jane.

He killed my husband.

- Christian didn't kill them. - Yes, he did.

They did.

Elizabeth...

please don't put us through this.

Just end it.

- I can't. - Why? Why can't you?

Because I don't want to.

And I couldn't... anyway.

Elizabeth.

Elizabeth?

Christian was discovered

sneaking into the camp that night.

They...

shipped him off the next day.

So, I got my wish,

didn't I?

They never did see each other again.

His ship was torpedoed...

just shy of the coast.

He died.

Now he's at the bottom of the sea.

Like my husband.

Lost in a sea of mud

on the Somme.

And she hadn't even told him about Kit.

He didn't know...

he'd left two behind.

If there's any shame,

it's mine.

All mine.

I failed Elizabeth when she needed me.

Now all that matters is protecting Kit.

Protecting Kit?

From what?

If Elizabeth doesn't come home,

the child's only living relatives...

will be Germans.

They might come for her.

No.

But you said yourself that...

that Christian didn't even know about Kit.

And even if he had...

Amelia,

- Kit is safe. - You don't know that.

I promise you.

I've seen things I never thought could happen, happen.

I can't lose another person to the Germans.

I'm sorry.

I can't.

- What do you think you're doing? - You've fallen to their side.

I tried to warn you.

And everybody warned me about you.

- Your soul is in mortal danger. - Oh, my soul.

Thank you.

But it's my privacy I fear for most just now.

Miss Ashton, let us pray.

I pray you let go of me before I knock you down.

Now, here is a book filled with love.

And you overlook all of it

in favor of judgement and petty meanness.

"Seek and ye shall find," indeed.

It is I that shall pray for you, Miss Stimple.

But from a far safer distance.

Juliet?

- I have nowhere to go. - Oh.

I think Amelia feels ashamed

that she hated them all so much.

She wasn't able to see that Christian was different,

the way Elizabeth could.

And you think Elizabeth was right?

Oh, I know it.

He was a lovely man.

All I know of romance in real life is

Elizabeth and Christian.

But tell me about your suitor.

I wanna hear all about your Sidney.

Actually, Sidney's my publisher.

And my oldest friend in the world.

Still, there's a chance?

There'd be a greater chance if I were called George.

Or maybe Tom.

He likes men's names?

Indeed, he does.

Oh.

Oh.

Yes.

Oh.

- Thank you. - Oh.

And besides, Isola...

I'm engaged.

What?

To whom?

- Mark, Markham Reynolds. - Markham?

- How elegant. - He's American.

Oh!

But where's the ring?

- Or is he very poor? - Mm.

That's okay, too.

He's not poor.

No.

Why aren't you wearing it?

I...

I'm not yet used to it, I suppose.

And I wanted to keep it safe.

So, what sort of books does Markham enjoy?

Um...

Have you...

shared a passionate encounter?

Isola.

I have never shared a passionate encounter, myself.

I am only beautiful on the inside.

You are beautiful on the outside as well.

- And men do like that. - Nonsense.

There must be someone here you like.

No. Not at present.

- But I have Wuthering Heights, don't I? - Hmm.

Do you not mind being alone?

I suppose.

Sometimes.

But then I think how much sweeter it'll be

when my Heathcliff finally shows himself.

And how glad I'll be

that I decided to wait for him.

Careful!

Good, you're here.

Hello.

- You busy? - No.

New glass for the greenhouse just came into the port today.

I was going to help unload

but I need someone to fetch Kit home.

Oh, I'd be happy to.

Eddie, blast your eyes. Get out!

- All right! - Go on, get off.

Are you sure it's no trouble?

Absolutely not.

- Thank you. - Oh.

Bye! All right.

- Oh. - Come on.

Kit, slow down. Wait for me.

Away!

Away!

Away.

Kit!

Juliet! Up here!

Do you want to see my treasure box?

Mm, delicious.

This is me and my mummy.

She loves me very much but she can't be here right now.

And she'll come back as soon as she can.

Oh.

She's very pretty.

Oh.

Thank you.

Such a small thing.

Just a book.

Yet, it's brought me all this way.

Uh,

- Kit's in her room, sleeping. - Thank you for watching her.

We had a lovely time.

She's...

She's fond of you.

I best get back.

- Morning. - Morning.

- Miss. Miss Ashton! - Yes?

There's a call for you at the post office.

From a Mark Reynolds.

- Not picking up? - No.

- He left no message? - No, sorry.

- We'll try again later. - Oh, no.

Oh, it's all right.

Just, uh, if he calls back,

let him know I'm over at the newspap...

- Eben? - Mm-hmm.

I hope you don't mind me asking but

who is that man that's always skulking about?

That one?

He steers a wide path of Dawsey.

Yeah, I shouldn't wonder.

That's Eddie Meares.

The fellow who informed on Elizabeth.

Informed on Elizabeth?

Among others.

Ladies.

Yeah, he profited nicely during the war,

but he's paying the price now.

Look at him.

He's the man Dawsey attacked.

Oh, that was a beautiful thing to see.

Should have sold tickets.

Steady, lad. Steady.

New jacket, Eddie?

You're doing all right for yourself.

Can't help if business is good.

Oh, Eddie, what business is that?

I'd say that jacket's made of Elizabeth McKenna's hide.

And what business would that be of any of yours?

That jerrybag wasn't even from here.

It's just too bad they didn't ship her wee bastard off with her.

You're the bastard, Meares.

Or did I get it wrong, Adams?

Maybe you shared her with your nasty friend?

Leave it, Dawsey!

They had to give him three weeks but...

he only served one.

I'd have done it for him if I could.

And that one.

He has to live with himself now.

God help him.

Why does Kit live with you rather than Amelia or...?

'Cause Elizabeth left her with me.

But why?

Dawsey...

what happened?

Piggies.

Pig.

She came to the house that night.

The night she was arrested.

One of the slave workers,

a boy,

had escaped somehow.

She found him.

He was hurt,

sick.

Needed help.

- Right. - Come on, piggy.

So, she brought Kit.

Would I watch her...

while she went for supplies?

You can't go running around the island after curfew.

- I don't have a choice. - Of course you do.

You have a choice, you have a responsibility.

I won't do it. You can't leave her here.

- Do you have any bread? - Take her to Amelia or Isola.

I will be gone for 20 minutes.

Do you have any bread?

Elizabeth.

Because you give me the last piece of bread when I ask,

that is why I trust her to you.

Elizabeth!

- Elizabeth! - Shh, Dawsey, go back!

You can't risk it, it's too dangerous.

- You have a child. - This is someone's child, too.

How could I ever look his mother in the eye if I didn't help?

You will never meet her!

If I don't help him, he will die.

What would you have me do, look the other way?

- Yes, please. - I can't!

Please.

I'll go.

Tell me what you need from the hospital and I'll get...

They'll never let you in.

I'll be back. Two shakes of a lamb's tail.

They shot him by the side of the road.

And they arrested Elizabeth.

I should have nailed her to the floor.

But I let her go.

It's not your fault.

- It is. - Dawsey...

it's not fair,

the choice she made,

to Kit...

to you.

You're raising this child all by yourself.

But I... I love her.

Rise and shine.

I love Kit.

Do you love Elizabeth?

- In there. - Juliet!

Ma...

Mark?

Mark! What are you doing here?

- Hi. - Hello.

How you doing?

Mark Reynolds.

Dawsey Adams.

The letter writing pig farmer? Fellow bibliophile.

It's good to meet you.

- I hope I'm not intruding. - No, what are you doing here?

Well, if you ask me that again I'm gonna feel a little unwelcome.

I missed you. I hope that's enough.

More than enough.

I'm just surprised.

- That's all. Mm. - Well, I tried to call you yesterday.

And I thought,

you know, why not hop on a flight,

come see what's so fascinating here for myself.

I have some idea now.

You know, it's a beautiful island.

- Yes. - It's just...

lacking a proper florist.

- All the way from London. - Mark, they're beautiful.

Thank you.

How about a private tour?

Yes.

Absolutely.

- Nice to meet you. - Yes.

Do you see the one with the greenhouse?

That's Isola's. That's where I've been staying this past week.

Do you see it? It's the one with the garden.

Have you lost the ring I gave you?

No, I haven't.

Have you changed your mind?

- No. - Then why aren't you wearing it?

Because I am afraid of losing it.

I can... I can only imagine what it cost.

And I... I wanted to keep it safe.

And I...

- I'll tell you the truth. - That would be great.

I feel like I'm lording about with a great, gold...

crown on my forehead. Can you understand that?

My good fortune feels...

It feels so conspicuous here.

I take it gold crowns aren't the fashion on Guernsey?

Or maybe just... just not on pig farms?

Or maybe you'd like to take it back?

More than anything I just wanna see it on you.

Right here, where I put it.

Unless there's something you want to tell me.

Good.

Now the real reason I came.

Mark was able to trace her to a camp in Ravensbruch.

Uh, wh... where's Ravensbruch?

Germany.

There are witnesses who saw her.

Who were there,

the day she died.

- Do they know how she died? - She was shot.

They say she tried to save a girl...

who was being beaten.

Elizabeth

got the stick from the guard and she struck him with it.

The girl was spared.

But they killed Elizabeth instead.

I'm so sorry.

Where are you going, Dawsey?

To tell Kit.

Right now?

Don't you want to give yourself a chance to think?

- Think what? - What will you tell her?

I'll do it, Dawsey.

I will.

Wait.

Come on.

Come here.

She's only four.

- What can she understand? - I'm older than time...

and I understand nothing.

Nothing.

It's time to go.

It's not like I can keep putting

poor Sidney and his book tour off forever.

I have to get back to London sometime.

Then there's your Mark.

You wouldn't want him to go to waste.

No.

You see?

Hmm.

There's nothing to keep you here?

No.

My life's in London.

Yes, it is.

I'm afraid how lonely it's going to feel now,

when you're gone.

It's terrible to lose a friend when you don't have many.

Thank you.

I'm so sorry, Amelia.

- Bye, Miss. - Keep going with the Kipling.

Goodbye.

I'll miss you.

I'll miss all of you.

This is yours.

I'd like you to keep that.

- Juliet, I'll be onboard. - Yes.

Mr. Adams...

- it was nice to meet you. - Bye-bye, Juliet.

Bye, Kit.

Kit.

We'll still write to each other, won't we?

Yes, of course.

Goodbye.

Thank goodness you're here, Mr. Stark.

Poor thing,

she's not eating, and she's as quiet as a mouse.

Well, let's see what we can fix.

I can tell you, the silence is worse

- than the typing ever was. - Hmm.

You have to write about them.

I can't.

I promised I wouldn't.

I realize that, Juliet, but this is your story to tell.

As sure as I'm sitting here. And you will not be right

until you do.

Now, Elizabeth, for better or worse, couldn't help but follow her heart.

You must do the same.

I'm afraid.

- What if I'm not a good enough writer? - Ah.

She doubts.

She doesn't believe.

She craves being taken seriously

but then she won't do that for herself.

I think you're better than you yet know.

And as your friend,

of many, many...

many years...

I've seen you reach for what you want.

You have that courage.

Hi.

You look absolutely ravishing.

Thank you.

We...

need to celebrate.

To us.

Juliet, what is it?

Mark...

I'm sorry.

I am very sorry.

I think it's my mistake

bringing you back too quickly,

or letting you go to Guernsey in the first place?

I should have never let you out of my sight.

I think I would have found myself here sooner or later

even if I'd gone nowhere.

I am sorry, Mark.

May I ask if you ever loved me?

I loved our time together.

And I still truly care for you... It's not really the same thing, is it?

But I feel terribly...

Well, I am really sorry about that.

Mark, as unhappy with me as you are right now,

I know that being married to me would not have made you very happy in the end.

I would, just as soon as you not tell me what would make

me happy. I think I got a better beat on that than you do.

And you deserve someone who can share that.

- Who can share every wonderful thing... - Yeah, okay.

You have to offer.

- You deserve better. - Well, I deserve better than I got.

I'll give you that.

And you will have it.

I am sure I will. But not at this table. Goodnight.

Goodbye, Mark.

Goodbye, Juliet.

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.

Crikey, that's quite a mouthful.

- No author? - No.

You can't ever publish it, anyway.

You'd need permission and it's not mine to give.

- This is just for you. - Thank you.

- But... - Hmm?

I will write you another book.

Possibly another after that.

This makes me excessively happy to hear.

Something's opened up, Sidney.

Somehow the doing has given me a tremendous appetite for more.

Which brings me to a business question.

Business?

Good. I'm all ears.

Have I still got...

a little money?

Ah.

No.

No, you're quite rich.

Huh.

Well, I only need some.

There's a property I may be interested in buying.

But I need to go and see if it's still available

and if they'll have me.

Darling girl, anyone would be lucky to have you.

And I am so lucky to have you.

True.

All right, all right.

- Off you go, I'm a very busy man. - Yes.

All right.

Just so you know...

I'm still available to give you away.

Should the occasion ever present itself.

Thank you, Sidney.

For all of it.

Mm.

Granddad?

It's addressed to the Society.

From Juliet.

Out loud, son.

Out loud.

"Dear."

Dawsey,

Amelia,

Isola,

Eben, Eli and Kit.

"Please forgive me."

- Whatever for? - "That's first."

I hope you will forgive me breaking the promise I made

not to write about your Society.

We had a trust, I am profoundly sorry to have betrayed.

Secondly,

know that this manuscript...

is yours alone to do with what you will.

I will not publish it.

That's not why I wrote it.

'Earth seemed a desert I was bound to traverse...

seeking to find the old familiar faces, '

"Charles Lamb wrote."

It's Charles Lamb.

Without knowing it, I feel I have been searching

for the old familiar faces for many years now.

And can't quite account for why I recognize these as yours.

- But I do. - But I do.

"Do you suppose it's possible for us

to already belong to someone before we've met them?"

Oh, very much so, yes.

"If so..."

I belong to you.

Or you to me.

Or me simply to the spirit I found among you on Guernsey.

"That is as good a definition of family as any I know."

Thank you for sharing the story of your family with me.

And for sharing Elizabeth.

Though I did not get to meet her myself,

I feel keenly how her life has changed the arc of my own forever,

in ways I am only just beginnig to discover.

I wish you all peace.

And hope that if books

do have the power to bring people together,

this one may work its magic.

"Love...

Juliet."

The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society.

That's my name.

It is.

- Will you read it to me? - I will.

Another time, all right?

Who'll look after her?

- I will. - Eli, drive me to the port?

I can still make the eleven o'clock boat.

Where are you going?

London. Wherever she is.

You stop her, Dawsey.

You stop her.

Don't let her marry that Yank.

- I don't believe she is. - How do you know?

She told us.

Mind Amelia. I'll be back soon.

- Bye-bye. - Bye.

Wh... where does she say that?

Come on. Let's go and make some cakes

for when they get back.

Amelia, are you not gonna read this?

I don't care for everyone to see me crying. I will later.

Excuse me, sir.

Sorry.

Thank you.

Dawsey. D... Dawsey?

Excuse me. Dawsey!

Sorry.

I'm sorry. Excuse me.

Dawsey! Excuse me.

Dawsey!

Dawsey!

Oh, Juliet.

Hello.

Where are you off to?

I'm on my way to find you.

Me?

- Really? - Yes.

Well, I... I wrote you a letter on the boat, just now.

Wanted to make sure I'd got it all down.

Everything I should have said

long before.

Well...

this is convenient because I was on my way to find you as well.

Juliet...

- I... - Would you like to marry me?

I'm in love with you.

So, I thought I'd ask.

My God.

Yes.

Yes.

Yes?

"Puck had carefully removed"

the charm from off the eyes of Lysander

"with the antidote the Fairy King gave to him."

"Hermia first awoke,"

and finding her lost Lysander asleep so near her,

was looking at him and wondering at his strange inconstancy.

Lysander, presently opening his eyes

and seeing his dear Hermia,

recovered his reason which the fairy charm had before clouded.

And with his reason, his love

for Hermia.

And they began to talk over the adventures of the night,

doubting if these things had really happened.

Or if they had both been dreaming

"the same bewildering dream."

Begin.

"He was hungry, he said."

It was time for lunch. Besides, he said,

"'There's the lighthouse. We're almost there.'"

That's all fine and well, Amelia,

- but where is the story? - Hear, hear.

The narrative is not the author's

primary concern, you see.

- I understand that. - Never has been with Virginia Woolf.

Is it too much to ask for something to happen?

It's what's going on inside the people.

It's the psychology of the people.

It's the psychology

of the people going on a boat ride, Isola.

- Eben. - What?

- "Who are you?" - "I'm poor Ben Gunn, I am."

- "Were you shipwrecked?" - "Nay, mate. Marooned!"

"Three years have gone and lived on goats."

"Three years?"

"Then berries and oysters."

- Oysters? - "Many's the long night

I've dreamt of cheese.

"Toasted mostly."

Well done, Grandpa.

- "Be not afeared. - "Be not afeared.

- The isle is full of noises... - The isle is full of noises...

- "...sounds..." - sounds

and sweet airs that give delight and hurt not.

Sometimes, a thousand twangling instrumens

"will hum about mine ears, and sometimes voices."

I love that.

"I took that dear hand,

held it a moment to my lip."

Ooh.

"We entered the wood and wended homeward."

Reader...

"I married him."

"If ever there was someone"

who earned a happy ending,

- it was..." - "Me."

Bravo!

"You answer to the name of Ernest.

You look as if your name was Ernest."

"You are the most earnest looking person"

I ever saw in my life.

It is perfectly absurd your saying

"your name isn't Ernest."

Sidney, bravo!

Would you care for more pie,

- Mr. Stark? - Oh, for goodness sake!

No. Gin.

Sidney.

Leave it to me.

"When I was three, I was hardly me."

When I was four I was not much more.

"When I was five, I was just..."

- Alive. Yes. - "...alive.

But now I am six, I'm as cl..."

- Cle-ver. - "...clever as clever.

So, I think I'll be six now for..."

- Ever and ever. - "...ever and ever."

Oh! You did that beautifully!

Bravo!

'www.mario.mk'