Letters from heaven
The beautiful Channel Island of Guernsey has a fascinating history, as a new film set there during the Second World War will reveal, writes Laura Millar
The taste, I have to admit, isn’t half bad; a mouthful of hot, fluffy mash, flavoured with sweet red beetroot, followed by the satisfying chew of the topping and base, formed by the humble spud’s baked peelings. I’m biting into a modern-day version of a potato peel pie, created specially by the chef at the Ship and Crown pub, which sits by the waterfront of St Peter Port, Guernsey’s picturesque, harbour-side capital.
Both the pub, and the dish, have a direct association with one of the most infamous periods in this little island’s history: the Second World War, which indirectly led to the writing of a lively, evocative and life-affirming novel, The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Pie Society, which has, to date, sold over five million copies worldwide.
I’m here because the fictional tale of how London-based writer, Juliet Ashton, ends up discovering a diverse group of islanders who formed a reading club during the war, has just been made into a film.
It’s told through a series of letters – between Juliet and her publisher, Sidney Stark; between Juliet and Dawsey Adams, a farmer who stumbles across her name and starts a correspondence; and between Juliet and Dawsey’s friends, who set up the Literary and Potato Peel Society as a way of passing the dark days, and even darker nights, of the German Occupation.
The book was written by American author, Mary Ann Shaffer, who was inspired after becoming stranded by fog in Guernsey airport during a visit. Stuck with nothing to read, her interest was caught by one of the many factual books for sale about the period, and after years of extensive research, her novel was published in 2008, just after she sadly died of cancer.
Ten years on, the film has been directed by Four Weddings and a Funeral’s Mike Newell, and stars Lily James, Matthew Goode, and Penelope Wilton.
I am somewhat surprised, however, when I meet up with local tour guide Gill Girard, who helped the filmmakers with their research, to find out that nothing was actually shot here.
“Unfortunately,” explains Gill, “not enough of the locations, such as the harbour, look enough now like they did back then.” As a result, most of it was shot in Devon, and the more I see of the island, divided into ten parishes linked by lush, rolling fields, stretches of golden sandy beach, and delicately scented bluebell woods, the more I really hope Devon has done it justice.
Hitler had had his eye on Guernsey for a while. Due to its position as the most westerly of the eight inhabited Channel Islands, he saw it as part of the “Atlantic Wall” which ran along the northern European coast from where he could defend Nazi-occupied territory from the United Kingdom.
Mindful of this, along with the sights – and the sounds – of the smoke, bombs and warfare being waged less than 30 miles across the water from them in Normandy, in late June, 1940, Guernsey’s residents came to the decision to evacuate the island’s children to Britain.
In all, 17,000 young people and their teachers left, almost halving the population of 42,000, and bereft parents would not see, or hear from, their offspring again for five years.
But it was timely; on 28 June, believing the lorries parked along the pier were ammunitions trucks, a German air raid bombed the harbour, killing over 30 people. Realising Guernsey was demilitarised, it paved the way for German forces to flood in, two days later, by air and sea.
The Ship and Crown (then the Crown Hotel), where I sample my potato peel pie, was used as the German Harbour Office, and other businesses, houses and buildings were swiftly requisitioned as lodgings or storage for the army. Locals were made to drive on the other side of the road, communication with the outside world was banned, curfews were imposed, and so was rationing.
You were punished for breaking any
Much of the reality of it all is brought home at the Occupation Museum
of these rules; hence why, in the novel, the character of Elizabeth Mckenna, on creeping home after curfew invents an absorbing book club as the reason for being out so late.
Guernsey’s staggeringly beautiful coastline was soon blighted by the backbreaking construction – by thousands of prisoners of war brought over by the army – of ugly, concrete fortifications, sticking out like carbuncles all over the island. Hundreds of acres of tunnels were dug underground, too, for keeping ammunition and accommodating soldiers. Today, it’s jarring to drive from one pretty, pebbly beach, like Cobo Bay, to another, only to see a large gun rearing up above a cliff, or a Brutalist-looking direction-finding tower silhouetted sinisterly against the powder-blue sky.
Much of the reality of it all is brought home at the island’s compelling Occupation Museum (germanoccupationmuseum. co.uk), a vast, sprawling collection of artefacts from the war, which started as a hobby by local man Richard Heaume.
After their eventual surrender here on 9 May 1945, now celebrated annually as Liberation Day, the Germans scarpered, leaving almost everything behind, from machine guns to uniforms. But it’s the mementoes of ordinary life trying to go on as before which are the most poignant: recipes for how to make coffee out of parsnips, tea from bramble leaves, or, indeed, pie out of potato peelings; flyers for theatre shows, aimed at boosting morale; replacement bicycle tyres made from thick rope threaded through hosepipe, or a tractor made entirely from parts of other machines.
Despite the hardships, however, locals were generally well-treated. They could still gather to gossip and shop, ration-books permitting, and I follow in their footsteps around the winding lanes of St Peter Port’s commercial Arcade, across the cobbled Market Square, through the covered Market building and onto Fountain Street. Today these streets are lined with high street stores, independent boutiques, cafes, bars and restaurants. The town also commemorates two very famous visitors; one who just spent
a day, and one who lived here for 15 years. Firstly, on the harbourfront is a statue of Prince Albert; his wife, Queen Victoria is similarly sculpted in bronze, in the beautiful Candie Gardens, a public park covered in colourful camellias, rhododendrons and azaleas. Towering over them is the tall, thin Victoria Tower; these all celebrate the occasion when the couple stopped off at the island in 1846, the first time a reigning monarch had graced Guernsey with their presence. The second is French author, Victor Hugo; banished from his homeland for opposing Napoleon III, he sailed to Guernsey, which he called ‘a rock of hospitality and freedom’ and made his home in Hauteville House, perched high above the harbour. It was here
he finished his masterpiece, Les
Miserables.
Huge inspiration to creatives such as Hugo, and the painter Auguste Renoir, who spent a month here, captivated by peaceful Moulin Huet Bay, is the island’s coast.
Circumvented by both cliff-high, and sea-level paths, they are the best way to take in Guernsey’s outstanding natural beauty. On my last morning I set off from sheltered Fermain Bay to St Peter Port – a walk described in Shaffer’s novel, and known to be popular with Hugo – and follow the lanes etched into the earth as they skim the very edge of the island, lined with trees through which I can gaze down onto the startling turquoise of the gently lapping sea below. No longer are enemy planes flying overhead, or gunships anchored in the port; but Guernsey will never forget its traumatic past – nor the many moments of light which kept its plucky residents going. Logan Air flies direct to Guernsey from Glasgow between 26 May and 15 September 2018, loganair.co.uk Alternatively, fly from Gatwick with aurigny.co.uk from £49.99 one way. Doubles at the Bella Luce hotel start from £138 per night, www. bellalucehotel.com Island tours are available via gillgirardtourguide.com The Guernsey Literary and Potato Peel Society is released on Friday. For more information, see www. visitguernsey.com