Chapter 12 Part Two Chapter Eleven

(Continued from previous issue) How can we understand the child's thinking? There is only one explanation: it was a day in June 1932, which suddenly fell after a burst of rain and wind, making it extraordinarily beautiful.It was one of the few mornings, and the unusually warm, warm sunshine and new leaves all indicated that the real summer was coming.He and Briony crossed Triton Springs, stepped over low hedges and rhododendrons, passed through the little gate that only allowed one person to pass, and came to the narrow winding woodland path.She seemed very excited, as if she had endless words to say.She was about ten years old then, and had just begun to write short stories.Like the others, he was given a bound book of illustrated stories describing the beginnings of love, difficulties overcome, reunions, and weddings.They walked to the river because he promised to teach her to swim.When they left the house behind, she might be telling a story she had just written or a book she was reading, or she might still be holding his hand.She was a very quiet, serious little girl, with a serious look, obviously not suitable for her age.Such a confession was unusual, but he was willing to listen.It was an exciting time for him, too.When he was nineteen years old, the exam was basically over, and he felt that he did well in the exam.He will be finishing his high school career soon.In the entrance interview of Oxford University, he performed well, and in two weeks he will go to teach English in a missionary school in France.It was a bright and warm day; the tall beeches and oaks were hardly moving; and the light, streaming through the young leaves and pearling on the yellow leaves of last year, looked like pools.This majestic scene, in the eyes of him who is young and self-important, seems to herald his bright future.

She went on babbling, and he listened contentedly, half-heard.They came to the forest path, which led to a wide grassy bank.They walked half a mile upstream and re-entered the woods.Here, at the bend in the river, under the overhanging branches, is a dragon pool dug in Briony's grandfather's time.A low stone dam slows down the flow, making this an ideal place for diving and diving, but not for beginners.You can walk across the low dam, or jump off the bank into nine feet of water.He jumped into the water, stepped on it, and waited for her.They started swimming lessons in the late summer of the year before last, when the river was shallow and the current was slow.Now, even in pools there are some sluggish eddies.She only paused for a moment, then screamed and jumped from the river to his arms.She practiced treading water in the water until the current brought her to the edge of the dam, and then he led her across the pool and back to the shore, letting her start all over again.Due to the wasted winter, he had to support her with his hands during her breaststroke, and he had to tread water himself, making it difficult to swim.Once he let go, she could only swim three or four times before sinking.She discovered that she could stay still in the water when swimming against the current, and she was very excited about this discovery.But she couldn't stop in the water at all, and was washed back to the low dam every time.There she would hold on to a rusty iron ring, waiting for him, her white face vivid against the mossy grayish-yellow walls and greenish cement.She called this method "swimming and climbing".She wanted to keep playing, but the water was too cold, and after fifteen minutes of this, he was exhausted.So he ignored her protests, pulled her to the bank, and lifted her out of the water.

He took out his clothes from the basket and went to the woods not far away to change.When he came back, he found that she was still standing on the shore, just where he had just left, with a towel over her shoulder, staring at the water. She asked, "If I fell into the water, would you save me?" "of course." As he spoke, he bent over the basket.He heard—but didn't see—she jumped into the water.The towel falls on the shore.There is no sign of her in the pool, only ripples rippling in circles.Suddenly she got out, took a breath and sank again.It was an emergency! He tried to run to the low dam and fish her up from there, but the water was a cloudy green and he couldn't see anything.He could only find her underwater by touch.There was no other choice - he stepped into the water, shoes, jacket, nothing in time.He touched her arm almost immediately, put his hand under her shoulder, and lifted her up vigorously.He was surprised to find that she was holding her breath, and then laughed happily, clasping her hands tightly around his neck.He pushed her to the bank, and then, wearing wet clothes, climbed up the bank with great difficulty.

"Thank you," she kept saying, "thank you, thank you." "It's just stupid of you to do that." "I want you to save me." "Don't you know you were almost drowned?" "You saved me." A moment of worry, a moment of relief, he could not help burning with anger.He almost growled, "You silly girl, you almost killed both of us." She was silent.He sat on the grass and poured the water out of his shoes. "You're under the water and I can't see you. My wet suit dragged me down. We could both be drowned. Are you joking like that? Don't you, huh?"

She was at a loss for words.When she was dressed, they walked back down the path, Briony in front and he creaking behind.He really wanted to bask in the sun in the open garden.He had to walk a long, hard way back to the bungalow to change clothes, but his anger had not completely subsided.He thought that she was no longer a child and should apologize for her own behavior.She bowed her head and walked silently, maybe sulking, but he couldn't see her.As they came out of the wood, through the little door, she stopped, turned, and said to him in a direct, even challenging tone: "Do you know why I asked you to save me?" Where was she sulking, she was clearly posing to him.

"have no idea." "Isn't it obvious?" "No, I can't tell." "because I love you." She raised her chin and said bravely.She blinked rapidly as she spoke, dazzled by the momentous fact she had uncovered. He suppressed a laugh.He was secretly in love with a little girl. "What the hell do you mean by that?" "I mean what anyone would say when they said those three words: I love you." This time, her words were a little sad.He realized that he should resist the temptation to tease her, but how difficult it was.He said, "You love me, so you jumped into the river."

"I wonder if you'll save me." "Now you know. I would risk my life to save you, but that doesn't mean I love you." She straightened up slightly. "Thank you for saving me, I will always be grateful to you." These words must have come from a book she had recently read or a book of her own writing. He said: "You're welcome. But don't do this again in the future. For me and for others. Do you agree?" She nodded.When she parted, she said: "I love you, now you know." She walked towards the house.Standing in the sun, he trembled a bit, and watched her go away until she completely disappeared from sight.Then, he also set foot on the road home.He never saw her alone again until he left for France.When she came back in September, she had gone to boarding school.Soon he was off to Oxford, and Christmas in December was again with friends.He had seen Briony again in April of the following year, and by then all this had faded.

really forgot? He had enough time, too much time, to think alone.He could not recall having had any other unusual conversation with her except that day in June, and he could not recall a strange behavior, a meaningful look in her eyes, or a sullen look in her face since then, which suggested that the passions of her girlhood were still growing. .He was back in Surrey almost every holiday, so there were plenty of opportunities for her to call him out of the bungalow, or pass him a note.At the time, he was busy with his new life, immersed in the freshness of college life, and, at the time, he consciously wanted to distance himself from the Tallis family.But to be sure, there were some signs he missed.For three years she had developed a feeling for him which she must have buried in her heart, intensified in her fantasies, or embellished in her novels.She's the kind of girl who lives in a fantasy.The scene by the river was enough to make her never forget it.

This speculation, or belief, is fixed in a memory of an encounter—an encounter on a bridge at dusk.For years he had pondered that walk through the gardens.She probably knew in advance that he had been invited to dinner with them.So she waited there, barefoot, in a dirty white dress.It's so weird.She may have been waiting for him, perhaps preparing her little speech, even rehearsing it loudly while sitting on the bridge rail.When he finally came, she was too embarrassed to speak.It's a sign.At that moment, he wondered: why didn't she speak? He handed her a letter, and she ran away.After a few minutes, she opened the letter.She was stunned, not just by a certain word in the letter.In her mind, his love for her sister was a betrayal of her love.Later, she saw the worst scene in the library, when all her fantasies were shattered.At first, disappointment and despair hit her, then mounting pain, and finally, by a golden opportunity in the dark, she avenged herself in the search for the twins.She testified against him—no one suspected her except her sister and his mother.He could understand the impulsiveness, the malice and the childish desire to destroy.What is amazing is the depth of the girl's resentment against him, and her persistence in trying to make up a story to send him to Wandsworth Prison.

Now he may be about to clear his grievances, and he is very happy for this.He acknowledged that it took courage for her to walk back into court to deny her testimony under oath.But he wouldn't take away his annoyance with her for that.Yes, she was a child then, but he didn't forgive her.He will never forgive her.That is a permanent injury. The front is more chaotic and noisier.Miraculously, an armored force was struggling to push forward against traffic, soldiers and refugees.People squeezed into the gaps of abandoned vehicles, or clinging to the side of the bombed-out broken walls, barely giving way.It was a French column, at best an advance detachment, with three armored vehicles, two half-tracks, and two troop transports.No sign of like-mindedness.In the eyes of the British army, the French had demolished them.They don't want to fight for their country.The British soldiers were furious at being pushed aside.They chanted "Magino", cursing and mocking their allies.As far as the French were concerned, they must have heard rumors of the British retreat, and they were being sent to guard the rear. "Coward, go back to the boat, go back to your crotch!" They scolded and left.In a cloud of diesel smoke, the crowd regrouped and moved on.

They walked towards the only remaining houses in the village.In a field ahead, Turner saw a man with a collie and a horse plowing.Like the ladies in the shoe store, the farmer seemed oblivious to the passing troops.These people lead a different kind of life—war is the hobby of those who are passionate about it, and in their eyes, war is as important as a hound hunting down its prey.In the back of a car that just passed a hedge sat a woman intently writing something; in the empty garden in front of a new house a man was teaching his son how to play football.Yes, people continue to sow and plow, the crops will still grow, some people will come to harvest it, grind it into powder, and some people will eat it.Not everyone dies... Turner wondered.Suddenly, Nettle grabbed his arm and pointed upwards.The distant French column was chaotic and noisy, covering up the roar in the air, but at least fifteen planes could clearly be seen circling over the road.They are located at an altitude of 10,000 feet and appear as small dots in the blue sky.Turner and the two corporals stopped to watch, as did everyone in the vicinity. A weary voice murmured in his ear: "Fuck, where's the RAF?" "They went for the French," said another knowingly. As if to refute his words, a plane whizzed out of the queue and began a near-vertical dive over their heads.For the first few seconds, they did not hear the roar of the plane.Silence, silence.There is also increasing pressure in the ears.Even the screaming and screaming couldn't relieve the pressure. "Hidden!" "Scatter!" "Scatter!" "Run!" Difficulty moving.He can walk unhurriedly, and he can stop, but it is very difficult to get off the road and start running. He needs to search his memory to understand these strange commands.They stopped by the last house in the village.In front of the house is a barn, and on both sides are farmland, which is where the farmer plows.Now he and the dog are standing under the tree, as if hiding from a shower.His horse, still hitched to the plow, grazed along the unplowed ridge.Soldiers and civilians scattered from the road.A woman passed him by with a crying child in her arms, but she changed her mind and ran back, standing on the side of the road not knowing where to go.Which way to go? The field in front of the barn or the field? Her indecision made him decide instead.The roar intensified as he pushed her shoulders and rushed towards the door.Nightmares have become a science.Someone, purely a human being, still had time to fantasize about this devilish howl.Hit the ground running! The sound came from the panic itself, desperate to destroy something.They all know very well that they are the ones who are on the verge of extinction.You need to bear this sound alone.Turner led the woman through the door.He wanted her to run into the middle of the field with him.Now that he had touched her, now that he had made up his mind for her, he felt that he could not abandon her.But the boy in the arms was at least six years old, and they were held so heavily that they couldn't move forward at all. He pulled the baby from her arms. "Go," he yelled. A German Stuka dive bomber was loaded with a thousand-pound bomb.For people on the ground, they should leave buildings, vehicles and crowds as soon as possible at this time.Usually, a pilot would not waste his precious bombs on an isolated target in the field.But if it turns back to attack, it's another matter.Turner once saw them chasing a man who was sprinting, purely for fun.Turner freed a hand to grab the woman's arm.The boy wet his pants and screamed in Turner's ear.The mother seemed unable to run.She stretched out her hands and cried, trying to hold her son back, and the child was twisting on his shoulders, trying to break free from him and return to his mother's arms.At this time, there was a sharp whistle as the bomb fell.It is said that if you hear the sound of the bomb falling before it explodes, you will surely die.He pulled the woman to lie down on the grass and pressed her head down.With a loud bang, the ground shook.He was half bent on the ground, covering the child under him.The shock wave lifted them off the ground, and their faces were hurt by the flying dust.They heard the Stuka climbing up, and at the same time they heard the whistle of another bomb.The bomb hit the road within eighty yards of them.He clamped the boy under his arms and tried with all his might to pull the woman up.