ATONEMENT [2007]

Torn Apart by Betrayal

Separated by War

Bound by Love 

 Briony: Cee, why don't you talk to Robbie anymore?

Cecilia: I do. We just move in different circles, that's all.

 

Soldier: Come on, then, how come a toff like you, talks French and everything, ends up a private?

Robbie: Not eligible for officer's training if you join direct from prison.

Soldier: You're pulling my tit.

Robbie: No, I'm not.

They gave me a choice. Stay in prison or join the Army.

And for the record, the last thing I am is a toff.

Cecilia: Sorry.

Robbie: No.

Have you been in touch with your family?

Cecilia: No, I told you I wouldn't.

Leon waited outside the hospital last week, I just pushed past him.

Robbie: Cee, you don't owe me anything.

Cecilia: Robbie, didn't you read my letters?

Had I been allowed to visit you, had they let me everyday, I would have been there everyday.

Robbie: Yes, but... 
If all we have rests on a few moments in a library three and a half years ago, then I'm not sure, I don't know if...

Cecilia: Robbie, look at me.

Come back... Come back to me.

Briony: Thank you, thank you, thank you.

Robby: That's an incredibly bloody stupid thing to do.

Briony: I wanted you to save me.

Robbie: Don't you know how easily you could have drowned?

Briony: You saved me.

Robbie: Stupid child! You could have killed us both.

Is that your idea of a joke?

Briony: I want to thank you for saving my life.

I will be eternally grateful to you.

The story can resume.

Our story can resume.

I will simply resume.

~Robbie Turner

Dearest Cecilia.

The story can resume.

The one I had been planning on that evening walk.

I can become again the man who once crossed the Surrey Park at dusk in my best suit,

swaggering on the promise of life.

The man who, with the clarity of passion, made love to you in the library.

The story can resume.

I will return, find you, love you, marry you, and live without shame.

~Robbie Turner

Briony: I've never been in love.

Fiona: What, never? Not even a crush?

Briony: Oh, I had a crush once, when I was 10 or 11.

I jumped into a river to see if he'd save me from drowning.

Fiona: Now you're teasing me.

Briony: Oh, no. And he did save me.

But as soon as I told him I loved him, the feeling sort of disappeared.

Robbie: What is she doing here?

Cecilia: She wanted to speak to me.

Robbie: Oh, yes, what about?

Briony: The terrible thing I did.

Robbie: I'll be quite honest with you.

I'm torn between breaking your neck here and taking you and throwing you down the stairs.

Do you have any idea what it's like in jail?

Of course you don't.

Tell me, did it give you pleasure to think of me inside?

Briony: No.

Robbie: But you did nothing about it.

Briony: No.

Robbie: Do you think I asssaulted your cousin?

Briony: No.

Robbie: Do you think it then?

Briony: Yes. But yes and no.

Robbie: And what's made you so certain now?

Briony: Growing up.

Robbie: Growing up?

Briony: I was 13.

Robbie: How old do you have to be to know the difference between right and wrong?

What are you, 18?

Do you have to be 18 before you can bring yourself to own up to a lie?

There are soldiers of 18, old enough to be left to die by the side of the road, did you know that?

Briony: Yes.

Robbie: 9 years ago, you didn't care about telling the truth.

You, all your family, you just assumed that for all my education, I was still little better than a servant.

Still not to be trusted!

Thanks to you, they were able to close ranks and throw me to the fucking wolves!

I'm very, very sorry for the terrible distress that I have caused.

I am very, very sorry.

~Briony Tallis

I'm dying.

My doctor tells me I have something called vascular dementia, which is essentially a continuous series of tiny strokes.

Your brain closes down, gradually you lose words, you lose your memory,

which for a writer is pretty much the point.

So that's why I could finally write the book, I think, I had to.

And why, of course, it's my last novel.

Strangely enough, it would be just as accurate to call it my first novel.

I wrote several drafts as far back as my time at St. Thomas Hospital during the war.

I just couldn't ever find the way to do it.

I had, for a very long time, decided to tell the absolute truth.

No rhymes, no embellishments.

I got first-hand accounts of all the events I didn't personally witness, 

the conditions in prison, the evacuation to Dunkirk, everything.

But the effect of all this honesty was rather pitiless.

I couldn't any longer imagine what purpose would be served by it.

By honesty... or reality.

Because, in fact, I was too much of a coward to go and see my sister in June, 1940.

I never made that journey to Balham.

So the scene in which I confess to them is imagined. Invented.

And in fact, could never have happened.

Because Robbie Turner died in septicaemia at Bray-Dunes on June the first, 1940, the last day of the evacuation.

And I was never able to put things right with my sister, Cecilia, because she was killed on the 15th of October, 1940, 

by the bomb that destroyed the gas and water mains above Balham tube station.

So, my sister and Robbie were neber able to have the time together they both so longed for, and deserved.

And which, ever since, I've always felt I prevented.

But, what sense of hope or satisfaction, could a reader derive from an ending like that?

So, in the book, I wanted to give Robbie and Cecilia what they lost out in life.

I'd like to think this isn't weakness or evasion, but a final act of kindness.

I gave them their happiness.

~Briony Tallis

*****

THE CHRONICLES OF NARNIA: THE LION, THE WITCH AND THE WARDROBE [2005]

Some Journeys Take Us Far From Home
Some Adventures Lead Us To Our Destiny


Professor Kirke is not accustomed to having children in this house.
 And, as such, there are a few rules we need to follow.
 There will no shouting, or running, no improper use of the dumbwaiter.
 No touching of the historical artifacts.
And above all, there shall be no disturbing of the professor.
~Mrs. Macready

 Lucy: If you don't mind my asking... what are you?
Mr. Tumnus: I'm a faun.
And what about you?
You must be some kind of beardless dwarf?
Lucy: I'm not a dwarf, I'm a girl.
And actually, I'm tallest in my class.
Mr. Tumnus: You mean to say that you're a Daughter of Eve?
Lucy: Well, my mum's name is Helen. 
Mr. Tumnus: Yes, but you are in fact human.
Lucy: Yes, of course.
Mr. Tumnus: What are you doing here?
Lucy: Well, I was hiding in the wardrobe in the spare room, and...
Mr. Tumnus: Spare Oom? Is that in Narnia?
Lucy: Narnia? What's that? 
Mr. Tumnus: Well, dear girl, you're in it.
Everything form the lamppost all the way to Castle Cair Paravel on the Eastern Ocean,
 every stick and stone you see, every icicle is Narnia.
Lucy: That is an awfully big wardrobe. 
Mr. Tumnus, scoffs: War Drobe? 
I'm sorry, please allow me to introduce myself. My name is Tumnus.
Lucy: Pleased to meet you, Mr. Tumnus. I'm Lucy Pevensie. 

 Lucy: Winter's not all bad.
There's ice skating and snowball fights. 
Oh, and Christmas.
Mr. Tumnus: Not here. 
 No, we haven't had a Christmas in a hundred years.
Lucy: What? No presents for a hundred years? 
Mr. Tumnus: Always winter, never Christmas. It's been a long winter.

 Lucy: What are you doing?
Mr. Tumnus: I'm kidnapping you.
It was the White Witch. 
She's the one who makes it always winter, always cold. 
She gave orders. 
If any of us ever find a human wandering in the woods, we're supposed to turn it over to her.

 No matter what happens, Lucy Pevensie, I am glad to have met you.
 You've made me feel warmer than I've felt in a hundred years.
~Mr. Tumnus

 White Witch: What is your name, Son of Adam?
 Edmund: Edmund.
White Witch: And how, Edmund, did you come to enter my dominion? 
Edmund: I'm not sure, I was just following my sister.
 White Witch: Your sister? How many are you?
Edmund: 4. 
Lucy's the only one that's been here before. 
She said she met some faun called Tumnus. 
Peter and Susan didn't believe her. I didn't either. 

 Susan: She thinks she's found a magical land.
 In the upstairs wardrobe.
Professor Kirke: What did you say?
 Peter: The wardrobe... upstairs...
Lucy thinks she's found a forest inside.
Susan: She won't stop going on about it. 
Professor Kirke: What was it like?
Susan: Like talking to a lunatic. 
Professor: No, no, no, not her. The forest.
  Peter: You're not saying you believe her?
Professor Kirke: You don't?
 Susan: Of course not.
I mean, logically, it's impossible. 
Professor Kirke: What do they teach in schools these days? 

 Some little children just don't know when to stop pretending.
~Lucy Pevensie

Edmund: Who's Aslan?
Mr. Beaver, laughing: Who's Aslan?
You cheeky little blighter. 
You don't know, do you?
Peter: We haven't exactly been here long.
Mr. Beaver: He's only the king of the whole wood.
The top geezer.
The real King of Narnia.
Mrs. Beaver: He's been away for a long while.
Mr. Beaver: But he's just got back!
And he's waiting for you near the Stone Table!
Lucy: He's waiting for us?
Mr. Beaver: You're bloomin' joking!
They don't even know about the prophecy! 
Look, Aslan's return, Tumnus' arrest, the secret police, it's all happening because of you!
 Susan: You're blaming us?
Mrs. Beaver: No! Not blaming. Thanking you.
Mr. Beaver: There's a prophecy. 
"When Adam's flesh and Adam's bone sits at Cair Paravel in throne, the evil time will be over and done."
 Susan: You know that doesn't really rhyme.
Mr. Beaver: I know it don't. You're kinda missin' the point.
Mrs. Beaver: It has long been foretold that 2 Sons of Adam and 2 Daughters of Eve
will defeat the White Witch and restore peace to Narnia. 
Peter: And you're think we're the ones? 
Mr. Beaver: You'd better be, cause Aslan's already fitted out your army. 
Lucy: Our army?
Susan: Mum sent us away so we couldn't get caught up in a war.
Peter: I think you've made a mistake. We're not heroes.
Susan: We're from Finchley.

Mr. Beaver: You're playing into her hands.
Susan: We can't just let him go!
Lucy: He's our brother.
Mr. Beaver: He's the bait!
The Witch wants all 4 of you.
Peter: Why?
Mr. Beaver: To stop the prophecy from coming true.
To kill you!

White Witch: Do you know why you're here, faun?
Mr. Tumnus: Because I believe in a free Narnia.
White Witch: You're here, because he [point to Edmund] turned you in, for sweeties.

Father Christmas, to Lucy: The juice of the fire-flower. One drop will cure any injury.
 And though I hope you never have to use it [handed her a dagger].
Lucy: Thank you, sir, but I think I could be brave enough.
Father Christmas: I'm sure you could. 
But battles are ugly affairs. 
[handed bow and arrows to Susan] Susan, trust in this bow and it will not easily miss.
 Susan: What happened to "battles are ugly affairs"?
 Father Christmas, chuckles: Though you don't seem to have a problem making yourself heard, 
blow on this and wherever you are, help will come.
Susan: Thanks.
Father Christmas, handed Peter a sword and a shield: The time to use these may be near at hand.
Peter: Thank you, sir.
Father Christmas: These are tools, not toys. Bear them well and wisely.

Wolf Leader, to Peter: This isn't your war.
All my Queen want is for you to take your family and go.
Susan, to Peter: Look, just because some man in a red coat hands you a sword, it doesn't make you a hero!
Just drop it! 
Mr. Beaver: No. Peter! Narnia needs you! Gut him while you still have a chance!
 Wolf Leader: What's it gonna be, Son of Adam? I won't wait forever.

 Go on ahead, gather the faithful.
 If it's a war Aslan wants, it's a war he shall get.
~White Witch

 Aslan: You doubt the prophecy?
Peter: No. That's just it. 
Aslan, I'm not what you all think I am. 
Aslan: Peter Pevensie, formerly of Finchley. 
Beaver also mentioned that you planned on turning him into a hat. 
Peter, there is a Deep Magic, more powerful than any of us, that rules over all of Narnia.
 It defines right from wrong, and governs all our destinies.
Yours and mine. 
Peter: But I couldn't even protect my own family. 
Aslan: You've brought them safely this far. 
Peter: Not all of them. 
Aslan: Peter, I will do what I can to help your brother, but I need you to consider what I ask of you.
I, too, want my family safe.

 Lucy: But they need us. All 4 of us.
Peter: Lucy, it's too dangerous. 
You almost drowned! Edmund was almost killed!
 Edmund: Which is why we have to stay.
I've seen what the White Witch can do. And I've helped her do it.
 We can't leave these people behind to suffer for it.

 White Witch: You have traitor in your midst, Aslan.
Aslan: His offense was not against you. 
White Witch: Have you forgotten the laws upon which Narnia was built?
 Aslan: Do not cite the Deep Magic to me, Witch.
 I was there when it was written.
White Witch: Then you'll remember well that every traitor belongs to me.
 His blood is my property.
Peter, draw his sword towards White Witch: Try and take him them. 
White Witch: Do you really think that mere force will deny me my right, little King?
 Aslan knows that unless I have blood, as the law demands, 
all of Narnia will be overturned and perish in fire and water.
 That boy will die on the Stone Table as is tradition.

 Gryphon: They come, Your Highness, in numbers and weapons far greater than our own.
 Oreius: Numbers do not win a battle.
 Peter: No, but I bet they help.

 Susan: But we saw the knife, the Witch.
Aslan: If the Witch knew the true meaning of sacrifice, she might have interpreted the Deep Magic differently.
 That when a willing victim who has committed no treachery is killed in a traitor's stead,
 the Stone Table will crack and even death itself will turn backwards.

To the glistening Eastern Sea, I give you Queen Lucy the Valiant.
To the great Western Wood, King Edmund the Just.
 To the radiant Southern Sun, Queen Susan the Gentle.
And to the clear Northern Sky, I give you King Peter the Magnificent.
Once a King or Queen of Narnia, always a King or Queen.
May your wisdom grace us, until the stars rain down from the heavens.
~Aslan

Mr. Tumnus: Don't worry, we'll see him again.
Lucy: When?
Mr. Tumnus: In time.
One day he'll be here and the next he won't.
But you mustn't press him.
After all, he's not a tame lion.
Lucy: No.
But he is good.

Professor Kirke: Oh, there you are.
What were you all doing in the wardrobe?
Peter: You wouldn't believe us if we told you, sir.
Professor Kirke: Try me.

 
*****