All language subtitles for The Guernsey Literary And Potato Peel Pie Society - 2018

Shh!

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

Keep it down.

Shh.

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.

Hmm?

- 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.

Hmm.

What is the name
of your club?

Um...

- 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.

Um...

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.

Shh.

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. Daw... 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!