Thank you! Thank you, thank you!
That's an incredibly bloody stupid thing to do.
I wanted you to save me. - Don't you know
how easily you could have drowned?
- You saved me. - Stupid child!
You could have killed us both. Is that your idea of a joke?
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.
Jerry, come and have a go at us in fucking South End.
Or better still, Trafalgar Square. No one speaks the fucking lingo out here.
You can't say, "Pass the biscuit," or "Where's me hand grenade?"
They just shrug. Because they hate us, too. I mean, that's the point.
We fight in France and the French fucking hate us.
Make me Home Secretary, I'll sort this out in a fucking minute.
We got India and Africa, right?
Jerry can have France and Belgium and wherever else they want.
Who's fucking ever been to Poland? It's all about room, empire.
They want more empire, give 'em this shithole, we keep ours,
and it's "Bob's your uncle" and "Fanny's your fucking aunt"!
Think about it.
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.
You can smell the sea.
Fuck me.
- It's like something out of the Bible. Jesus Christ.
Come on, get everybody to clean this mess up now.
We've just arrived, sir. Can you tell us what we're supposed to be doing?
Nothing. Just wait. Where are the ships?
A few made it in yesterday, Luftwaffe blew them to buggery.
Lost 3,000 men when they sank the Lancastria.
High command, in its infinite wisdom, is denying us air cover.
A disgrace, a fucking disaster.
No, look, the thing is, you see, I'm expected back, you see.
There's over 300,000 men on this beach, Private. You'll have to wait your turn.
Just be grateful you're not wounded. I've orders to leave the wounded behind.
No, no, no, leave it, guv! Never trust a sailor on dry land. You're best off out of it.
That's not right.
Christ.
Can you hear me, laddies?
I'm coming home!
Take from our souls the strain and stress
And let our ordered lives confess
The beauty of Thy peace
Breathe through the heats of our desire
Thy coolness and Thy balm
Let sense be numb, let flesh retire
Speak through the earthquake, wind and fire
O still, small voice of calm
Guv'nor.
I have to get something to drink.
You need one. You're grey.
He's gone all grey, can you see?
There. Come on.
All I want's a cup of tea now.
What the fuck you doing?
I'm coming home! Laddie, I'm coming home!
Fuck 'em all! Fuck 'em all! The long and the short and the tall
Fuck all the Sergeants and WO 1s Fuck all the corporals
and their bastard sons
'Cause we're saying goodbye to them all As back to their billets they crawl
You'll get no promotion this side of the ocean
So cheer up, my lads Fuck 'em all!
Mike!
Hold up, guv.
Wait here.
Why don't you sit down?
It's so hot in here.
Take off your boots.
I have to get back. I promised her.
To put things right.
And she loves me. She's waiting for me.
Oi!
Wait, wait, wait.
Hey, what have you done with your boots?
- Look, you're sure you're feeling all right? - Never better.
Now I'm wondering whether the beach really is the best place for dinner.
- I'm not sure, I don't recognise it. - Dunno.
- This'll do, down here. - No.
- No, no, it's further on. - What is?
This place I know, an old cottage with white clapboards
and blue-painted window frames.
Aw, yes. That's right, that's where we're going.
- It's close to here. - We're there. This is it.
Here we are, guv. Down here.
That's all right, guv. That's right.
Get your head down. Get your head down. There you go.
Tuck yourself in. Keep yourself warm.
Chew on a bit of this. But quiet like, or they'll all be wanting some.
Try and get some sleep.
Find you.
Love you.
Marry you.
And live without shame.
I love you. Come back. Come back to me.
Bit too much noise, guv'nor. - What?
- What noise? - You keep shouting.
- Some of the lads are getting a bit peeved. - What?
- Christ. You look a bit rough. - Thing is, I've decided to stay on for a bit.
I'm meeting someone, and I'm always keeping her waiting.
Now, listen. Listen to me, guv'nor.
I went out for a Jimmy Riddle just now. Guess what I saw!
They're getting themselves sorted out down on the beach.
The boats are back, and a geezer from the Buffs is marching us down at 7:00.
We're away. We're off home, mate.
So get some more sleep, and no more of your bleeding shouting.
- All right? - I won't say a word.
Wake me before 7:00, would you? Thanks so much.
You won't hear another word from me. Promise.
London Three weeks earlier
Bed castors should be lined up and pointing inwards.
I found three yesterday that weren't. You know who you are.
Which of you were responsible for putting away the blankets today?
I was, Sister. - I don't suppose you can tell us
- what you did wrong? - No, Sister.
Labels are folded to the inside, are they not?
- Yes, Sister. - Do them again.
Nurse Tallis, I'll see you in my office. The rest of you are excused.
- Is this job at all important to you, Tallis? - Very important, Sister.
Yesterday, you were seconded to men's surgical.
When your patient came round from his anaesthetic, it seems the first thing he did
was to ask for Briony. Who might Briony be?
- Well, me, Sister. - There is no Briony.
You are Tallis. Nurse Tallis. Is that understood?
Yes, Sister.
There is no Briony.
This is the BBC Home Service. Here is the news.
The BEF, with their French allies, are fighting a desperate battle
in the northern zone of the Western Front.
The Allied Forces have not lost cohesion, and their morale is high.
The RAF continues to give all the support in its power
to the Allied armies in northeastern France and Belgium. Railways, roads,
bridges and enemy troops have been continuously attacked, yesterday...
Thanks. I never could make the scissors work with my left hand.
Mummy always did it for me.
There, you're done.
Bother!
Night-night, Ponty.
Good night, Tallis.
Don't panic! It's only me.
Fiona, I almost jumped out of my skin.
So this is where you duck to after lights out.
I thought you might be in the middle of some tempestuous romance.
Don't you freeze to death up here?
I love London.
Do you think all of this will be bombed and just disappear?
No.
I don't know.
Do you write about Sister Drummond?
- Do you write about me? - Sometimes.
- Can I look? - I'd rather you didn't. It's private.
I don't see any point in writing a story if you're not going to let anyone read it.
- It's not ready yet. It's unfinished. - What's it about?
- It's complicated. - Yes?
It's just...
It's about a young girl, a young and foolish girl, who sees something from
her bedroom window which she doesn't understand, but she thinks she does.
I probably won't ever finish it.
I look at you, Tallis, and you're so mysterious.
I've never been mysterious.
- Do you know what I decided tonight? - What?
I could never marry a man who wasn't in the Royal Navy.
Here we are. Cecilia Tallis.
I think this is her address.
Thank you.
Dear Cecilia. Please don't throw this away without reading it.
As you'll have seen from the notepaper, I'm here at St Thomas'
doing my nurses' training.
I decided not to take up my place at Cambridge.
Oh, God.
I decided I wanted to make myself useful. Do something practical.
It says in the newspaper the Army are making strategic withdrawals.
Yes, I saw that.
It's a euphemism for retreat.
No matter how hard I work, no matter how long the hours,
I can't escape from what I did
and what it meant,
the full extent of which I am only now beginning to grasp.
Cee, please write and tell me we can meet.
Your sister, Briony.
So do you? - Do I what?
Have a secret fiancé in France. That's what everyone thinks.
No, of course not.
Imagine not knowing if he'd ever come back.
I've never been in love.
What, never? Not even a crush?
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.
- Now you're teasing me. - Oh, no. And he did save me.
But as soon as I told him I loved him, the feeling sort of disappeared.
Something's happened.
Outside, quickly.
Robbie.
Excuse me.
Nurse Tallis, you speak a little French, if I remember rightly.
Only school French, Sister.
There's a soldier in Bed 13. Go and sit with him for a minute. Hold his hand.
Off you go.
Here you are at last
Sister sent me
for a little chat
I remember your sister
she was always so nice
what's she doing now?
She is a nurse as well
Did she finally marry that man she was so in love with?
I've forgotten his name
Robbie?
She will soon I hope
Robbie
yes that's right
And you?
What is your name?
Luc.
Luc Cornet.
And you?
Tallis.
That's pretty
I remember you now
the English girl
You remember your first visit to Millau?
I was working by the ovens with my father.
I heard your accent
Can you do me a little favour Tallis?
These bandages are so tight,
can you loosen them a bit, please?
Of course
You remember my younger sister, Anne?
She still plays that little Debussy piece
do you remember?
She looks so serious when she plays
And our croissants,
what did you think of them?
The most delicious in Millau
Yes.
It's the quality of the butter
Yes
Is that why you came every day?
Because you know,
my mother is very fond of you
in her opinion,
we should get married in the summer
Oh yes?
Yes
I hope that's more comfortable
Do you love me?
Yes
Can you stay a while?
I'm frightened
- Tallis. - Briony.
Je m'appelle Briony.
Stand up, Nurse Tallis.
Now go and wash the blood off your face.
The Navy has earned our undying gratitude. The Army is undefeated.
Courage has brought them through unconquered, their spirit unbowed.
This is the epic of Dunkirk.
A name that will live forever in the annals of warfare.
In the course of a comprehensive tour,
Queen Elizabeth is seen here visiting a chocolate factory in the north of England.
The confectionary magnate and friend of the British Army,
Mr Paul Marshall, gave the Queen a tour of the Army Amo factory
with his lovely, soon-to-be-wed fiancée, Miss Lola Quincey.
What a mouthwatering couple they are.
Keep the Amo coming. Our boys have a sweet tooth.
Secondly, for a remedy against sin, and to avoid fornication,
that such persons as have not the gift of continence,
might marry and keep themselves undefiled members of Christ's body.
Thirdly, it was ordained, for the mutual society, help and comfort,
that the one ought to have the other.
I saw him.
Therefore, if any man can show any just cause
why they may not be lawfully joined together...
I know it was him.
...let him now speak or forever hold his peace.
I saw him. I saw him with my own eyes.
Let the nursey through.
They're going down to the country today. Never been out of London before.
I hope they get a nice family.
They don't know what they're in for with this lot.
Come on.
I'm looking for Miss Tallis. Cecilia Tallis.
Is she in?
Tallis! Door!
I tried writing. You wouldn't answer.
I have to talk to you.
- So you're a ward sister now? - Yes.
Thanks.
I want to go in front of a judge and change my evidence, Cee.
Don't call me that.
Please don't call me that.
I know what I did was terrible. I don't expect you to forgive me.
Oh, don't worry, I won't.
You're an unreliable witness. They'll never reopen the case.
Well, at least I could tell everyone else what I did.
I can go home and explain to Mummy and Daddy and Leon...
- So what's stopping you? - Well, I wanted to see you first.
They don't want to hear any more about it.
That unpleasantness is all tidied away in the past, thank you very much.
But...
I'll be late. Better get moving.
Excuse me.
He sleeps so deeply.
- What is she doing here? - She wanted to speak to me.
Oh, yes, what about?
The terrible thing I did.
Robbie. Darling.
I'll be quite honest with you.
I'm torn between breaking your neck here
and taking you and throwing you down the stairs.
Oh, God.
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?
- No. - But you did nothing about it.
- No. - Do you think I assaulted your cousin?
- No. - Did you think it then?
Yes. But yes and no.
- And what's made you so certain now? - Growing up.
- Growing up? - I was 13.
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? - Yes.
Five 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!
- Robbie! Look at me, look at me. - Don't!
Come back. Come back.
Come back to me.
Briony.
There isn't much time.
Robbie has to report for duty at 6:00, and he's got a train to catch.
So sit down.
There are some things you're going to do for us.
You'll go to your parents as soon as you can,
and you'll tell them everything they need to know
to be convinced that the evidence you gave was false.
You'll meet with a solicitor, make a statement,
have it signed, witnessed, send copies to us. Is that clear?
Yes.
You'll write a detailed letter to me explaining everything that happened
leading up to you saying you saw me by the lake.
Try to include whatever you can remember
of what Danny Hardman was doing that night.
- Hardman? - Yes.
It wasn't Danny Hardman.
It was Leon's friend, Marshall.
I don't believe you.
He's married Lola. I've just come from their wedding.
Lola won't be able to testify against him now.
He's immune.
I'm very, very sorry for the terrible distress that I have caused.
I am very, very sorry.
Just do as we've asked of you.
Write it all down, just the truth, no rhymes. No embellishments, no adjectives.
And then leave us be.
I will, I promise.
I'm sorry. Could we stop for a moment?
Of course. Is something the matter?
I just need a couple of minutes by myself.
... minutes by myself.
Briony Tallis, your new novel, your twenty-first, is called Atonement. It's...
Briony?
I'm sorry. Could we stop for a moment?
Briony Tallis, I'd like to talk now about your new novel, Atonement,
which comes out in a few days to coincide with your birthday.
- It's your twenty-first novel... - It's my last novel.
Oh, really? Are you retiring?
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.
Because the novel is autobiographical, is that right?
Yes, entirely. I haven't changed any names, including my own.
And was that the problem?
No.
I had, for a very long time, decided to tell the absolute truth.
No rhymes, no embellishments.
And I think...
You've read the book, you'll understand why.
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.
You see, I couldn't any longer imagine what purpose would be served by it.
By what? Sorry. Served by honesty?
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.
Do you have any idea what it's like in jail?
So the scene in which I confess to them is imagined.
He sleeps so deeply.
Invented.
How old do you have to be to know the difference between right and wrong?
And, in fact, could never have happened.
Because
Robbie Turner died of septicaemia at Bray-Dunes
on June the first, 1940,
the last day of the evacuation.
Cheerio, pal.
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 never able to have the time together
they both so longed for, and deserved.
And which, ever since, I've...
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 on in life.
I'd like to think this isn't weakness or evasion,
but a final act of kindness.
I gave them their happiness.