Chapter 5 Chapter Four

It was not until evening that Cecilia thought that the vase on the table by the south window of the study had been mended.The vase has been drying in the sun all afternoon.The three curved lines on the surface of the vase converge like rivers on a map.When she walked through the library with the vase in her hands, she seemed to hear the sound of someone walking barefoot on the corridor floor outside the door of the study.For many hours, she tried not to think about Robbie Turner.She was annoyed that he should have come back into the house, and again without socks.She strode down the hallway, determined to confront his rudeness and teasing, only to be met by her grieving sister.Briony's eyelids were red and swollen, and her index finger and thumb pinched her lower lip, which foreshadowed that she was about to cry.

"Honey, what's the matter?" In fact, her eyes were not moist.She lowered her eyes to glance at the vase, then her eyes went around the vase and fixed on the picture frame with the poster.There are cheerfully colored titles on the posters, watercolors of highlights from the show interspersed with typography—tearful parents waving, sailing to the beach in the dark, the heroine lying in a hospital bed, a wedding ceremony.She hesitated in front of the painting, then swung her hand and tore off most of the painting, letting it fall to the ground.Cecilia put down the vase in a hurry and rushed over, kneeling down and picking up the fragments before her sister stepped on it.This isn't the first time she's saved Briony from self-destruction.

"Little sister, is it my cousin?" She wanted to comfort her sister, the baby of the family that Cecilia had loved to cuddle with since childhood.When Briony was very young, she had frequent nightmares and horrific screams at night.Cecilia then came to her room and woke her up. "Wake up," she would say softly, "it's just a dream. Wake up," and take her to her bed.She wanted to hug her now, but Briony had stopped pinching her lips and was at the front door, her hand resting on the brass handle in the shape of a lion's head on the door that Mrs Turner had just polished that afternoon. .

"Cousin and cousin are silly, but not just because of that. It's because of..." Her voice was getting softer, and she wondered if she should tell her new secret. Cecilia smoothed out the torn triangle and felt how quickly her sister had changed.If Briony was crying, she might feel better about being able to comfort her in the living room.Such soothing whispers were cathartic for Cecilia.After a disappointing day, she didn't want to go back to those thoughts.Coping with Briony's problems with caresses and kind words will also restore her composure to herself.However, the little girl would face her own distress alone.Briony had turned and opened the door wide.

"What's the reason?" Cecilia could hear the urgency in her voice. Beyond her sister, on the other side of the lake, the lanes meandered through the park, then narrowed to meet on a gently rising plateau, where a small silhouette loomed in the blazing sun, now Slowly getting bigger, and then shaking again, as if gradually receding.It might have been Hardman, driving a buggy with visitors.He said that he was too old to learn to drive. Briony changed her mind and turned to her sister. "It's all wrong. It's wrong..." She took a deep breath and looked away.Cecilia felt that this foreshadowed that for the first time a very academic word would come out of her mouth. "The fault is in the style!" She thought she pronounced the genre as a single sound with a French accent, but she pronounced the retroflex sound of r again.

"Jean?" Cecilia asked, imitating her pronunciation. "What the hell are you talking about?" But Briony was already limping along the scorching gravel in her baggy white shoes. Cecilia went into the kitchen to fill the vase with water, then went into the bedroom and took flowers from the washbasin.She inserted the flowers, and the flowers did not appear artistically messy as she wished, but seemed to lean neatly on purpose, with the taller flower stems leaning flat against the mouth of the bottle.She picked up the flowers and gently put them back into the vase, and the flowers took on another orderly form.But it doesn't matter much.It is hard to imagine this Mr. Marshall complaining that the flowers were arranged too neatly by his bed.She carried the vase down the creaking corridor to Aunt Venus's room on the second floor and put it on the chest of drawers beside the four-poster bed.Thus completing the little errand her mother had assigned her eight hours before.

She was in no hurry to leave, however, because the room was homely and neatly stocked with personal belongings—in fact, it was the only clean bedroom besides Briony's.By this time the sun had climbed to the other side of the house, so it was cool in here.Every drawer was empty, not even a fingerprint was left on the surface of the furniture.The matting under the bedspread must have been of that almost stuffy drab color.She had an urge to reach into the quilt and touch it.But instead of doing so, she went into Mr. Marshall's room.At the foot of the four-poster bed, the Chippendale sofa was so neatly made that one could hardly bear to sit on it.The air mixed with the scent of wax is very smooth, and under the soft and friendly light, the surface of the glowing furniture seems to be rippling on the surface of the river, and it seems to be breathing.She moved and saw the little toy figures on the ancient dowry box spinning and dancing.Mrs. Turner must have been here that morning.Cecilia felt no need to think of Robbie.The future occupant of the room was only a few hundred yards away at the moment, so her presence here was clearly an intrusion.

Looking through the window from where she had come, she could see that Briony had crossed the bridge to the island and was now strolling along the grassy shore, disappearing into the bushes that surrounded the island's temple.Farther away, Cecilia could make out the two hatted figures sitting on the bench behind Hardman.But then she saw a third figure she had not seen before striding down the drive to the carriage.That must be Robbie Turner coming home.He stopped, and as the visitor approached, his figure seemed to blend into it.She could picture it: They would be manly, they would beat their chests, they would play and play.Annoyed at the thought that her brother didn't know Robbie had done something shameful, she let out an angry noise and walked away from the window to her room in search of a cigarette.

She knew there was one pack of cigarettes left.She searched impatiently among the mess, and after a few minutes finally found it in the pocket of her blue silk pajamas on the bathroom floor.She lit a cigarette as she walked downstairs.She knew she wouldn't dare to smoke if her father was at home.Her father had clear advice on when and where women should smoke: not on the street, not in any other public place, not when entering a room, not when standing up, but only when others offer a cigarette can only be drawn when.He confidently takes these ideas as laws of nature.Although she had lived at Girton College for three years among the sophisticated men of the world, she had not the courage to contradict her father.On weekdays, she would joke and sneer with her friends, but she didn't dare to be so presumptuous in front of her father.When she tried to make the most docile rebuttal, she would feel that her voice had actually become very weak.In fact, she was disturbed by conflicts with her father over anything, even minor family matters.No literary classics could change her sensitivity, no practical criticism course could make her submissive in front of her father.When her father was busy in the Whitehall government cabinet, she smoked a cigarette on the stairs, the only rebellious behavior her education had tolerated, and it took her effort.

Leon was ushering Paul Marshall in through the wide open front door when she reached the top flight of stairs, which filled most of the corridor.Danny Hardman followed them with their bags.Old Hardman stared silently at the five-pound note in his hand, within sight of the door.The afternoon light reflected from the gravel road through the fan-shaped windows, giving the vestibule an orange-yellow color, like a sepia painting.The visitor had taken off his hat and stood there, smiling, waiting for her.As she usually does when she meets a man for the first time, Cecilia wonders if this man is the one she will marry in the future, and if this moment is an unforgettable moment in her life-whether it is with gratitude. love, or with deep regret.

"Sister Cecilia!" Leon shouted.As they embraced, she felt a thick fountain pen pressed against her collarbone through his jacket, and she smelled smoke from the folds of his jacket.Suddenly, she couldn't help feeling nostalgic, thinking of the afternoon tea party at the boys' college, where everyone was generally polite and comforted, but also cheerful, especially in winter. Paul Marshall shook her hand and bowed slightly again.His face has a pensive look, which gives people a comical feeling.His opening remarks were polite and lifeless. "I've heard people talk about you a lot." "Me too." All she can remember is a phone conversation with her brother a few months ago, during which they discussed whether they had or would ever eat Amo's bars. "Emily is lying down." In fact, there is no need to say this sentence.As children, they could tell from the other side of the garden by the shadow in the window that their mother was suffering from migraines again. "Is the old man in town?" "He may come later." Cecilia was aware that Paul Marshall was staring at her, but before she could look back at him, she needed something to say. "The kids were putting on a play just now, but it seems to have blown off." Marshall said: "The little girl I saw by the lake just now must be your sister. She is beating the nettles hard." Leon moved aside to make way for Hardman's son, who was carrying the bag. "Where are we going to put Paul?" "Let's arrange it on the second floor." Cecilia said while turning her head to signal the young Hardman.Hardman was carrying a leather suitcase in each hand, and he had already reached the stairs. He stopped when he heard their words, and turned to face them with a quiet and confused expression—they were gathered in a square Checkered tiles in the center of the floor.Cecilia has noticed that Hardman has been spending a lot of time with the children lately.Maybe he's interested in Lola.After all, at the age of sixteen, he was no longer a little boy.In her impression, the fat circle on his face has disappeared, and his childish lips have also stretched, looking innocent with a bit of vicissitudes.The large group of pimples on his forehead also made him present a different face from before, and the excessive whitewash on his face was softened by the dim light.Cecilia found herself feeling dizzy all day long, looking around strangely, as if everything had existed long ago, and became more vivid and vivid in the ensuing cynicism, which she responded to But can not comprehend. Cecilia said patiently to Hardman, "It's the big room past the nursery." "That's Aunt Venus' room." Leon added. Aunt Venus has been a well-known nurse in the Northern Territories of Canada for nearly half a century.Although she was not the aunt of anyone in particular, but only the aunt of Mr Tallis's late distant cousin, no one questioned her ownership of the room on the second floor after she retired.During most of their childhood, the innocent Aunt Venus was imprisoned in this room, bedridden with illness.Finally, when Cecilia was ten years old, she passed away without complaint.A week after her death, Briony was born. Cecilia led the guests to the living room, passed the floor-to-ceiling windows, passed through a large field of roses, and then walked to the swimming pool.The swimming pool is behind the stables, surrounded by tall moso bamboos.There is a tunnel-like gap in the bamboo forest for entry and exit.They ducked their heads and climbed through drooping branches to a balcony of dazzling white stone.Heat waves rise from White Rock.In the shade by the pool stood a white-painted tin table with a large jug of pina colada under a square piece of cheesecloth.Leon unfolded the canvas chair, and they sat in a small circle, wearing sunglasses, facing the swimming pool.Marshall sat between Leon and Cecilia, manipulating the conversation.He gave a ten-minute monologue.He told them how refreshing it was to get away from the city and enjoy the peace and fresh air of the country.Captivated by an idea, he has spent every waking minute of the past nine months shuttling back and forth between headquarters, the boardroom and the factory.He had bought a large house on Clapham Common earlier, but he could hardly find time to look there.Rainbow·Amo chocolate was put on the market and won a great success, but this was only after properly solving various distribution problems.The initial advertising campaign offended some bishops and elders, so they had to devise another plan; The problem of the second factory building - and the trade unions related to the four majors are generally dissatisfied with this factory building, so they can only flatter and coax them like a child.Now, when everything is going well, they are facing even greater challenges from Amo's army.It's a khaki yellow chocolate bar with the slogan "Catch up with Amo."The concept is based on the assumption that if Hitler doesn't stop the war, the cost of the armed forces will surely continue to rise; the chocolate bar may even become part of the official ration pack.In that case, if there is another major conscription, then another five factories will have to be rebuilt to meet the needs of the market.But some directors are convinced that Britain should and will accommodate Germany, so Amo's army is doomed to fall short.One of the members even said that Marshall was a militant; however, despite his exhaustion and despite the slander, Marshall remained stubborn.Marshall's reiteration of "coming here far away" at the end is refreshing.It's the only place where you can breathe. During the first few minutes of Marshall's speech, Cecilia stared at him.She thought that it would be self-destructive, even unreliable, to marry someone so handsome, so rich, so stupid.She felt a pleasure sinking down her chest.He'd bring her big-faced kids—loud, goofy kids with a passion for guns and football and airplanes.When Marshall turned his head to Leon, Cecilia could just see Marshall in profile.As Marshall spoke, his lips quivered like a long muscle above his chin.A thick lock of black hair curled carelessly over his eyebrows, and the same black hair had begun to grow around his ears, in a comical tangle like pubic hair.He should have asked his barber for a good cut. Cecilia turned her eyes a little and saw Leon's face, but at this moment Leon was staring at his friend very politely, as if he didn't intend to meet Cecilia's eyes at all.When they were children, their parents would treat their older relatives to dinner on Sundays, and they would often torment each other with stares.These awe-inspiring occasions simply call for old, time-honored silver flatware.These aging grandfathers, great-uncles, and grandmothers are all Victorians, confused, ruthless, helpless, wearing black cloaks, after twenty years of drifting stubbornly in an alien, frivolous and mean century, Finally found a home.They terrorized ten-year-old Cecilia and her twelve-year-old brother.A giggle is as easy to them as breathing.The person who saw this gaze seemed at a loss, but the person who cast the gaze had a special immunity.For the most part, Leon is in charge.His eyes were bluffing, the corners of his mouth drooped, his eyeballs kept rolling, and then he asked Cecilia to pass him the salt in the most innocent voice.Although Cecilia tried not to look at him as she handed him the salt, although she turned her head away and took deep breaths, Leon's gaze easily caused Cecilia to suffer enormously for the next ninety minutes. torture.At this moment, Leon had a free expression, and only when he thought Cecilia was beginning to recover, he tortured her with the same look from time to time.Even so, Cecilia rarely hit him with a mischievous pout.Since children are sometimes seated among adults, it is dangerous to make this look - grimacing at mealtime is a shameful thing and punished by going to bed early.But they always do all kinds of pranks, like licking their mouths with their tongues, smiling exaggeratedly, etc. Of course, they must let the other party see them doing these actions.At one point, they looked up at each other and made faces at each other at the same time.Leon laughed so much that he sprayed the soup from his nostrils onto the wrist of a great-uncle.The two children were herded to their respective rooms and held captive for a whole day. Cecilia longed to take her brother aside and tell him that Mr. Marshall had hair like pubic hair around his ears.Marshall was describing his confrontation with the board member who called him a militant.Cecilia raised her arms slightly and pretended to smooth her hair.Leon's attention was naturally attracted by Cecilia's movements.At that moment, she gave Leon a look that he hadn't seen in more than ten years.Leon pursed his lips, turned his head away, and found something interesting next to one of his shoes.When Marshall turned to Cecilia, Leon shielded his face with clasped hands, but the shake of his shoulders still couldn't fool his sister.Fortunately, at this time Marshall's speech has come to an end. "...Only here can make people breathe." Leon stood up immediately.He walked to the edge of the pool and stared at the sodden red towel near the diving board.Then he regained his composure, put his hands in his pockets, and walked slowly back to Marshall and Cecilia. He said to Cecilia: "Guess who we saw when we came in." "Robby." "I want him to join us tonight." "Leon! You shouldn't be doing this." Leon was taunting and joking.Maybe it was revenge.He told his friend: "The cleaning lady's son got a scholarship to a local grammar school and then a Cambridge scholarship to go to university at the same time as West - but she Barely spoke to him! She kept him away from her classy pals." "You should have asked me first." She is really annoyed now.Seeing this, Marshall persuaded: "I know some grammar school graduates in Oxford, and some of them are very fucking smart, but I think because they are richer, they seem resentful." Cecilia asked, "Any cigarettes?" Marshall handed her one from the silver case, tossed another to Leon, and took one himself.Now that they were all standing, Cecilia leaned over to Marshall's lighter.Leon said: "Robbie has a first-class mind, but he is wasting his time in the flower bed. I really don't know what he is doing." Cecilia went to the diving board and sat down, trying to look at ease.But her tone of voice was extremely uncomfortable. "He's thinking about getting a medical degree. I hope you didn't invite him, Leon." "Has the old man agreed?" She shrugged. "I think you should go to the bungalow now and tell him not to come tonight." Leon stepped into the shallow water, facing her across the lapping blue water. "Then how?" "I don't care what you do. Make an excuse." "I think something must have happened between you." "No, nothing happened." "Is he bothering you?" "For God's sake, don't ask." Cecilia stood up annoyed and walked towards the pavilion by the pool.The pavilion is an open structure supported by three fluted columns.She stood leaning against the middle pillar, smoking a cigarette and looking at her brother.Just two minutes ago, they were venting out of their nostrils, but now they had a falling out.It seems that childhood really reappeared.Paul Marshall stood between them, so that he turned his head from side to side as if he were watching a tennis match as they talked.With a little curiosity, Marshall remained neutral.He didn't seem bothered by the sibling quarrel.Cecilia believed that he did so out of his own interests at least. Her brother said, "You think Robbie can't use a knife and fork?" "Shut up, Leon. You shouldn't have invited him at all." "Absurd!" The ensuing silence was interrupted slightly by the hum of the filter pump.Cecilia had nothing to do, and she couldn't make Leon do anything.She suddenly felt that this dispute was meaningless.She lolled against the warm stone pillar, smoking a cigarette, and looked at the view—a pool of clear, chlorine-sterilized water, the black inner tube of a tractor wheel resting on a deck chair. , two men in cream linen suits, blue-gray smoke rising slowly among the bamboo bushes.It all seemed fixed in place before her, and she was aware again: all this had happened long ago too, and all the consequences, on all scales—from the smallest to the largest—were in place.No matter what happens in the future, no matter how weird or terrifying on the surface, there will be an unsurprising, all-too-familiar quality.She would say, she would say to herself, yes, of course it is.Is such that.I should have known. Cecilia asked softly, "Do you know what I'm thinking?" "what?" "Let's go in, and you should make us some nice drinks." Paul Marshall clapped his hands, and the applause echoed off the pillars and the back wall of the pavilion. "There's one drink I'm good at," he cried, "with crushed ice, rum, and melted dark chocolate." Upon hearing this suggestion, Cecilia and her brother exchanged glances, and just like that, the knot between them was untied.Leon had started to walk away, Cecilia and Paul Marshall following him.When they came to the gap in the bamboo bushes, Cecilia said, "I'd like something bitter. Even sour." Leon smiled, and since he was the first to reach the gap in the bamboo bushes, he stopped and gave Cecilia a hand. The gap seemed to be the porch of the living room.As Cecilia walked through the gap, she felt Leon touch her forearm lightly. Or maybe it's just the friction of leaves.