“There was something magical about an island – the mere word suggested fantasy. You lost touch with the world – an island was a world of its own. A world, perhaps, from which you might never return.” And Then There Were None, Agatha Christie, 1939.

Burgh Island sits off the edge of the south Devon coast. At low tide, you can walk across the sandy beach to reach it. As the tide turns, the crossing vanishes. Waves overlap from both sides, with dangerous undercurrents that have taken a fair few unwary swimmers over the years. But from Bigbury-on-Sea, the mainland village, the island draws you. Or, more precisely, the hotel on it does. Glowing white render catches the light. Peppermint Crittall windows promise a world of cocktails and dancing.

In 2025, Burgh Island Hotel is the most glamourous Art Deco building in the West Country. I thought I’d have little to say about it. Built by millionaire Archie Nettlefold, fell into post-war decline, restored by Tony and Bea Porter in the 1980s. But then I started to read the contemporary local press cuttings, and realised its story is the story of Art Deco itself. Its 1930s rise as moderne, its post-war dismissal, and its postmodern restoration.

I also realised that the glamorous story of Burgh Island Hotel was not entirely what it seemed.