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I don't know why you bother with that clock.
It never strikes the proper hour.
It keeps good time.
Right, what's on the docket for this afternoon?
You're free.
The Langston case has been postponed. They can't find the defendant.
Should I shift some appointments? Fill up the day?
No. I'm going home early this afternoon.
You haven't gone home early since... Well...
You've never gone home early.
Family problems?
Yes, Doris. I've done in the wife and child
and I've got to dispose of the bodies.
Bye.
Hello.
My idea of paradise is one key that opens everything.
Hello.
Doris phoned to say you were on your way.
She's certain we're having problems
and no amount of reassurance could persuade her otherwise.
So I had to tell her I was with a satellite installer.
Well, as long as you get us a good picture on Channel 5,
I can forgive anything.
Hello. Hello.
Have you been to the house or are you on your way there?
No fooling you, is there?
I was on my way there.
But now I don't know if I really want to see her.
You want to, Tom.
Hmm?
Tom.
Tom.
Tom, hurry up. Your aunt and uncle are waiting.
Come along now, Tom.
Mind Aunt Gwen and Uncle Alan,
do everything they say.
Why do I have to go? Peter and I had plans.
We've explained all this, Tom. Peter's ill.
You don't want to have measles, too, do you?
- We'll take good care of him. - Yes, glad to help.
It'll be good practice for when we have our own.
The doctor said he wasn't to get out of bed.
Tom, remember, you'll be a visitor. Do try to be good.
We can climb the tower one day, if you like.
How about now?
Not while you're in quarantine.
We'll climb it one day.
One day soon.
I trust we'll get on reasonably well.
Yes, Uncle Alan.
There's not much for you to do at our flat, I'm afraid.
No children your age. No garden to play in.
But we'll make the best of it.
We're here, Tom.
This house was something in its day.
It was split up into flats some time ago.
Ours is on the first floor.
Don't touch that! It belongs to the landlady upstairs.
- She's rather particular about it. - Then why does she leave it there?
The clock's screwed to the wall.
My sister's eldest.
There won't be any running about, will there?
My nerves can't cope with running about.
He's a quiet boy, I assure you.
It's not worth going out the back, Tom.
There's no garden. Just the rubbish bins.
Huh, seldom strikes the correct hour, I'm afraid.
- What good is the old thing, then? - Well, keeps good time.
The landlady lives there. Mrs Bartholomew. She's very old.
She can't be fond of children.
We shan't be bothering her during your stay here, shall we?
We're home.
This is the living room.
Come and see your bedroom, Tom.
This is a nursery!
I'm not a baby.
No. Of course you're not, Tom.
Well, the room...came like this.
The bathroom window has bars on it as well.
We'll leave you to unpack. Settle in.
Then it'll be tea time.
Thought you might like to write home.
- Tell them you arrived safely. - Thank you, Aunt Gwen.
I hope your measles are better.
This is a picture of Ely Cathedral.
The house is flats and there isn't a garden.
My bedroom window has bars, but Aunt Gwen says it's a mistake.
Tom...
Long.
You may read in bed for ten minutes. No longer.
Oh, and if you need to use the convenience, remember...
it isn't shameful for a young man to sit.
It's quieter that way.
I'll try to keep that in mind.
- Night, Tom. Sleep tight. - Good night.
Eight...nine...ten...
eleven...twelve.
For once it's correct. Thirteen.
Thirteen!
Just rubbish bins. They lied to me.
I'm very sorry.
I've lit a fire in the parlour.
I'll come back.
- Do you believe lying is wrong? - Of course, Tom.
- Always? - Always.
- So, it's never justifiable? - Never.
Suppose someone wasn't told about something he'd enjoy,
because some people didn't want to tell him?
Suppose they even said the thing wasn't there,
so as not to let the first person use it?
What was it the second people didn't want the first people to know about?
Person, not people. And let's say the thing was...
A hot water bottle?
No,
more like a couch, say, a large...
- outdoor couch. - I'm not sure I've heard of that.
A large outdoor couch.
I don't think it matters what the thing is.
If I understand Tom correctly,
some persons lied for their own convenience
and to the harm of other persons.
That's it exactly, Uncle Alan.
I wondered if you thought that kind of lying is right.
- I just wondered. - Of all possible forms of lying,
that is surely the least justifiable.
Uncle Alan has a highly developed sense of right and wrong.
I'm sure you will, too, one day. When you're grown up.
Excuse me.
I have one now. It's other people who haven't.
Hello.
I know you. You're the boy from the first floor front.
The Kitsons'.
Bit dull for you round here?
Yes. Do you live on the ground-floor back flat?
I do at that.
Do you have a maid?
Do I look the type to have a maid?
No.
Old Ma Bartholomew's coming to wind her precious clock.
You don't want to run into her.
There've never been children here. She wouldn't like it.
Only twelve hours after all.
Dear Peter, something incredible has happened.
You'll never believe it.
I spend hours and hours in the garden.
At least it seems like that.
But when I get back...
it's only a few minutes later.
I thought I could go anywhere in the garden.
But it's not like that.
I've found a way to do things, though.
I made an extraordinary discovery.
For all good things, I thank the Lord.
May he keep me from all the works of the devil, that he hurt me not.
Hi!
Hey! Hey!
Er...not unless you put the clock back.
So a tree could not be lying fallen at one time,
and then standing up again as it was before it fell?.
- Unless you put the clock back. - Correct.
- What clock? - No particular clock.
It's a saying - to have the past again. No one can have that.
Time isn't like that.
You feeling all right?
- Yes, thank you. - You were shivering,
as if you'd caught a chill.
I hope it's not the onset of measles.
You'd have to stay several weeks
instead of ten days.
Only ten days?
You must be dying to get home.
I think I do have a temperature. And that it is measles.
No, you've no temperature.
No temperature, no measles.
That's a relief...for you, I'm sure. Home soon.
Let's all run from Hatty. Come on.
Please don't run from me.
Silly little juggins. Come on.
What will Aunt say?
Why did you fall?.
I'll think of something to tell Mother.
Now I'm off with the others. You'll stop crying, though?
Oh!
Abel, have you seen my cousins?
They been playing hide and seek with you again?
It's the only game they play with me.
Why don't you ask to do the hiding and them the seeking for a change?
If they did, they wouldn't find me easily.
I can hide better than they do. I know more...secret places.
Do you, now, Miss Hatty?
I can be so quiet that nobody would even know I'm in the garden at all.
Can you, now?
I can see everybody and nobody can see me.
Hey!
Hey!
This way. Catch up.
Blooming heck.
Shoo. Go away.
Shoo.
- Let's play another game. - Yes. But Hatty sits it out.
- She doesn't play by the rules. - Can I have an apple, please?
- Only if you play by the rules. - You keep changing the rules.
That's because you're too dense to keep up.
How dare you stick your tongue out at us?
My tongue was hot. I wanted to cool it off.
- Don't give pert, lying answers. - Let her be.
Yes, we'll let her be, James. We'll let her be all alone.
I've seen you watching me and following me.
I saw you when Susan was dusting
and when you waved from the tree.
I saw you going right through the orchard door.
I saw you when you never knew it.
- Who are you? - I'm Tom.
Tom Long. I know your name. It's Hatty.
Princess Hatty, if you please. You may kiss my hand.
I don't want to kiss your hand!
If you're a princess, your father and mother must be King and Queen.
- Where are they? - I'm not allowed to say.
I'm held prisoner here.
Someone here calls herself my aunt, though she isn't.
She's wicked and cruel.
Those boys you saw aren't really my cousins,
though I'm forced to call them that.
Now you know my secret, I'll permit you to call me Princess,
and allow myself to play with you.
Peter, on a postcard,
I can't describe everything in the garden.
I can tell you what the garden looks like,
but I can't explain what it feels like.
I mean to ask Hatty questions about the garden and...
everything, but somehow...
- Tom. - ..I always forget.
- Did you get it? - Susan almost caught me, though.
I always wanted to play bow-and-arrows,
but my cousins said I was too young.
Then when I was older, they said they were too old.
- You made this, Miss Hatty? - All by myself.
- But who taught you to do it? - Someone.
Well, whoever it was taught you,
take care he don't teach you trouble with it.
Trouble, how could there possibly be trouble?
I left the gate open.
How she came here unbeknownst is more than I know.
Unless the devil himself drew her.
I wager Hatty let the old thing in.
Harriet!
Why is there little doubt you are to blame for this?
Must I remind you, Harriet,
that I received you into my home as a duty to my late husband.
No, you don't need to remind me.
As a child of charity,
- you should be grateful. - I am.
- Are you? - Yes, Aunt.
- And obedient? - Yes, Aunt.
Show me.
To your room, instantly.
Come on, girl.
Poor Hatty.
Don't cry.
What are you crying for?
For my real home, my mother, for my father.
They're dead. I don't want to be here.
Hatty!
Please leave me alone. I just want to be alone.
Strange things happen in the garden, Peter.
I've seen Hatty as a very little girl,
very unhappy, crying, and it makes me sad to see it.
Sadder, I think, than I've ever been.
I'm sorry our outing's ruined.
Can't we climb the tower? I don't mind rain.
They close the tower in weather like this.
I wish I didn't have to go home tomorrow.
You haven't caught a cold, have you?
If he has got a cold, he can't go home.
Not with Peter just getting over the measles.
No, you're right.
We'll telephone your sister and say Tom must stay a little longer.
Mmm.
Did Mr Bartholomew always own this house?
Mr Bartholomew never even lived in this house.
Mrs Bartholomew came here as a widow. That wasn't many years ago.
But what about the clock in the hall?. You said Mrs Bartholomew owned it.
But the clock has always been in this house.
Now, why do you suppose that?
Come to think of it, that clock must have been here for some time
because the screws at the back have rusted into the wall.
Oh, I imagine Mrs Bartholomew must have bought the clock with the house.
It's all straightforward when you reason it out.
- Isn't it? - I suppose so.
Gwen, I'm not saying yes and I'm not saying no.
- But you do enjoy having him here? - Most of the time.
But it would be different if we had one of our own.
It would be permanent. Not just a fortnight's visit.
It's such a wonderful feeling.
Knowing that there's another life in the room next to us.
Sleeping peacefully.
What's it like, I wonder, to be dead and a ghost?
You tell me.
I'm not a ghost.
Don't be silly. I saw you walk through the orchard door.
I'm not a ghost. The orchard door is. The garden is. You are.
Indeed I'm not. You are, and a silly little ghost you make
- in those clothes. - These are my best pyjamas.
- And this is my slipper. - Why do you wear just one?
Is that the fashion nowadays? Course not, because you are a ghost.
I could put my hand through you as if you weren't there.
- I could! - You're a ghost.
There you go. Your hand didn't go through my arm,
my arm went through your hand.
And boys, in their best pyjamas or not,
do not float in the air.
But I've proved it. You're dead and gone
- and a ghost! - I'm not dead.
I'm not dead. Please, Tom, I'm not dead.
I'm sorry, I take it all back.
You're not a ghost, only don't cry.
I'm glad you're better. Try as I might,
I can't seem to get any real answers out of Hatty.
The more time I spend with her, the more confused I get.
Peter, I'm learning girls can be very...
emotional and sometimes, when they cry,
you find you say any old rubbish just to get them to stop.
I need to find out more about Hatty.
I need to find out everything about her.
But time is running out.
If you look through the yellow one,
everything's drenched in lemonade.
This one makes it look like night.
You can't really see anything through the star.
Sometimes I like that best of all.
Look through and see nothing.
You might think there wasn't a garden.
But all the time, of course,
there is one, waiting for you.
This is my favourite tree. It's the hardest to climb. I call it Tricksy.
See what I've carved here?
This means Hatty Melbourne climbed this tree.
Carve my name, too.
That means Tom Long climbed this tree with you.
- It will always be here, won't it? - Always.
Always and always.
I wonder what's on the other side of that wall?.
I'm gonna climb that wall and find out.
No, Tom. That wall's far too high.
What do you see, Tom? What do you see beyond the garden?
You can see the river
and if you follow it with your eye, you can see the Cathedral at Ely.
- And beyond that... - Yes?
Hatty!
Hatty, what happened?
Abel made me swear on the Bible I would never climb the wall.
It's so high, he says, so dangerous.
- Why would he think you would? - He saw me looking up.
- Perhaps he heard me talk to you. - No, your voice was too soft.
He couldn't have heard me or seen me.
- I don't know. He seemed so... - Angry?
Frightened.
I'm afraid you'll have to stay indoors again, Tom.
We don't want you catching cold.
I suppose not.
I'm sorry to disappoint you, Tom.
All the time you've been here,
it looks as if you might never climb the cathedral tower.
Mrs Kitson!
I thought we had an understanding.
I'm sorry, I don't know what you mean, Mrs Willows.
No running about. We agreed.
We weren't running about. We were just climbing the stairs.
Rather quietly, I'd say.
I don't mean now, I mean at night. Every night there are footsteps.
Oh, and at what time
- do you hear these footsteps? - Midnight.
Every night at midnight
when the clock strikes, footsteps...
running down the stairs,
across the hall, out the back, then right away,
back again!
Surely you're not suggesting Tom... He's safely tucked in bed
at midnight, aren't you?
Yes, Aunt Gwen. You see, a boy my age needs ten hours sleep.
I know running about when I hear it.
Well, the old dear is hearing things.
Must have her wig strapped on too tight.
I promised not to climb the wall.
I didn't say anything about this tree.
If this is to be a proper house,
it must have windows,
not accidental gaps in the walls.
You expect too much.
I hope I always shall.
Hatty!
Get you gone!
Get you back to hell where you come from.
I know you,
I've seen you always and heard you and thought best to seem deaf,
but I've known you for what you are - the devil!
Please, Miss Hatty. Is she alive or dead?
You've tried to kill her often enough.
Her that had neither mother nor father nor home here.
Her innocence against your devilry. May the Lord keep me
from all the works of the devil, that he hurt me not.
Let me in! Hatty! Hatty!
Abel, what's happened? James, fetch the doctor!
Abel, please. How is Hatty?
She's not...dead, is she?
No. She's alive.
- Mother. - Come in, James.
James.
How is Hatty?
Hatty will do well enough.
Is that what the doctor says?
Yes.
- We must be thankful, then. - Thankful!
What was she doing climbing trees at her age?
Hatty is young for her age.
Perhaps it's from being alone so much.
It's beyond me to know what would happen
to someone who so stubbornly refuses to grow up.
Hatty will grow up, Mother. She hasn't a choice. None of us do.
She'll grow up and she'll marry.
I'll not have her ruling this house when I'm gone.
- Oh, Mother, please. - You and Hubert and Edgar
are grown now and in your father's business, independent.
But if any of you think of marrying Harriet,
never ever expect a penny from me.
You know perfectly well she loves only that garden.
We must change that, include Hatty more
in parties with our friends.
You said yourself, she likes only to be in that garden alone.
We could make her want more.
I'll tell her we all want her to go out to make friends.
Can I say that you wish it, Mother?
Can I say at least that you agree?
You can say and do what you like, but the less I see her, the better.
Why do you hate her so much?
I hate her...
because it's so easy for the rest of you to love her.
Come in.
Tom, come through slowly. I want to see how it's done.
It's a knack.
I wish I could do that.
How are you?
Oh, I'm quite well. The doctor says the scar won't show.
- You had a visitor just now. - Yes.
Cousin James.
He says I should do other things besides falling out of trees.
Things without me?
Oh, no Tom. You can come whenever you want to.
I count on it. I depend on it.
You have bars on your windows.
It was a nursery once.
Don't be so sad, Tom.
Shall I show you something? A secret?
I'd like that.
This was my mother and father long ago.
You used to say they were King and Queen.
James said I shouldn't say things like that.
And so I shan't.
James says a great many things that seem to take away the fun.
I have to go now. I'll see you tomorrow.
You always say that. Then it's months and months before I see you again.
But I come every night.
Oh, Tom, I'm afraid it's time for me to grow up.
I'll never get back.
Aunt Gwen, Uncle Alan!
Sleep well, Miss Hatty.
- Who is it? - It's only me.
Tom.
You came back.
I can't get home.
But you are home, Tom.
It was awful, Peter. I was trapped in the past with Hatty.
In the end I returned to now, but I don't know how I did it.
It's almost as if Hatty somehow helped me to get back.
I think the clock holds the clue.
So I need to get back to the garden and to Hatty.
That's really all I want.
Well, Tom, we must be saying goodbye to you soon.
- When? - On Saturday.
I've just had a letter from your mother.
- This Saturday? - Mmm.
We'll both miss you, Tom.
We could hardly expect to keep you any longer.
Unless we adopted you.
If you adopt me?
I was only joking, Tom.
It's gone rather chilly. Shall I plug the fire in?
Oh, yes.
- Hatty! - Tom.
Tom, you're so much thinner.
I'm no such thing. Aunt Gwen weighed me yesterday.
No, I didn't mean that. I meant... thinner through.
No, I didn't mean that either. Or rather...
I thought we could look at the clock to see what the book says
the angel's holding.
Could we wait? Must you know now? I'd much rather skate.
Oh, all right.
I'm getting much better. They all say so.
- Who's all?. - James and Edgar
and Hubert and...
our new friend, Barty.
Don't you like skating, Tom?
I do, yes, but I'd much rather find out what the clock says.
What the picture means.
All right.
We must be very quiet. Aunt is upstairs.
Time no longer. But no longer than what?
Tell me, Hatty.
Perhaps it means when the last trump sounds
and the end of the world comes.
Sometimes, Tom, it doesn't do to ask so many questions.
Are you coming to the pond with me to watch me skate?
No, I must think.
Imagine, Tom, that...
this is a point in time.
Now, imagine a painter
standing in a landscape and painting it.
Imagine a second painter coming up behind him
and painting the same landscape with...
the first painter's picture in it.
Imagine a third painter painting the same landscape
with the first painter's picture,
and the second painter's picture of the first painter's picture.
Then a fourth painter. A fifth!
I hope this parallel has made things clearer.
Oh, yes.
Thank you, Uncle Alan.
Let's look at it another way.
Think of Rip van Winkel.
No, actually that's not very illuminating.
Think of another point in time.
That we'll call...point 'A'.
Maybe different people have different times
although they're all bits of the same big time.
- That would imply... - So I might be able
to step back into someone else's time in the past
or she might step forward into my time,
which would seem the future to her, but to me, the present.
It would be clearer to go back to point 'A'.
Whichever way, she'd be no more a ghost in the past
than I a ghost from the future - we're not ghosts.
And the garden isn't, either.
That settles that. You've been very helpful.
What settles what? Gardens? Ghosts?
We're talking of theories here.
But Uncle Alan, suppose someone had stepped out of one time to another?
Like that. It would be proof.
Apparently, I have explained very little to you
if I haven't conveyed...
Proof, in matters of time theory!
- Barty. - Just coming, James.
James, may we go on Sunday?
Tom!
I'm so glad to see you. I miss you.
Even now, in spite of the cousins being so much nicer.
And Barty and skating! Oh, Tom, skating!
I feel as if I could go from here to the end of the world.
I want to go far. So far.
- Tom, why haven't you skates? - Where do you keep your skates?
- When you're not using them. - In the cupboard in the hall.
- Will you promise something? - Not if it's wrong or dangerous.
- No tree-climbing. - No, promise to keep your skates
in the secret place you showed me, in the wardrobe.
- Under the floorboards. - Why there?
Please promise. I know it sounds silly,
but that place is still secret, isn't it?
The only person I ever told was you.
I don't understand why you want me to,
but I'll keep them there, I promise.
Tom!
That promise means I'd have to leave the skates behind
if I ever went away from here.
-To whomever may find this,
-these skates are the property of Harriet Melbourne,
-but she leaves them in this place in fulfilment of a promise she made.
-Harriet Melbourne. June 2O, 18...-
Peter, you're looking your old self again!
The doctor says you can take a walk tomorrow.
Is there a card from Tom?
No, nothing today.
But you'll see him soon enough,
he's coming home the day after tomorrow.
Poor boy. He must have had a dreadfully dull time.
Tom!
Hatty!
I wasn't sure if it were you or a trick of the light.
- Of course it's me. - I hope so. Look.
James is going to market this morning
and I'm going with him to skate to Ely.
- Come. - Without going through the garden?
- I don't know if I can. - Of course you can.
The garden will always be there. Waiting for you.
Ready, Harriet?
Never thought I'd see you again.
What are we to do with that man?
He keeps talking to himself.
Come on!
Merry Christmas!
I'll be no longer than an hour.
If we miss each other, you'll need to take the train.
- Shall we climb the tower, Tom? - Yes!
286 steps.
Five minutes! Five minutes until last descent.
- Mr. James Robinson, gentleman of the city...
- who exchanged time for eternity.-
Tom, where's the garden?
I want to see the garden
- where you and Hatty play. - The garden's over there.
Hatty's here. She's the one carrying skates.
That's not Hatty, that's a grown-up woman.
Time!
Time to go down, ladies and gentleman.
But she's grown-up.
How can you play with someone grown-up?
Who was he, Tom? What was he?
Come on, lady. Time, time.
He's my brother, Hatty. He's real. Like me.
Miss Hatty.
Barty.
I'm so glad to see you.
Where are you off to all alone?
She's not alone, actually...
James brought me to town. I'm taking the train home.
I have my carriage. Might I give you a lift?
Hatty, wouldn't you rather...
- I see you like skating. - Yes. More than anything.
We could go next week, if you like. To Castleford or Littleport.
If you'd like.
We'd love to.
Whoa. Here we are.
Good night, Miss Hatty.
Good night, Barty.
Yes. Good night, Barty!
Hatty, wouldn't you like to go into the garden?
Hatty.
Don't you see me, don't you hear me?
Please don't walk through me.
Hatty, please don't walk through me.
- Perhaps we should wake him. - Yes.
A boy his age needs ten hours sleep, not twelve.
No, not this time.
- What is it, Tom? - Not now.
You're awake. It's morning.
Oh, you've been in a nightmare.
It's over now. It's over now.
Alan.
I think it's time for Tom's sake that he went home.
He's terribly strung up. Bad dreams, nightmares.
I wouldn't be surprised if he's even walking in his sleep.
I have to get Hatty back, Peter, the way she was.
I have a feeling that if I make one last trip into the garden,
Hatty might be a little girl again and we could play together.
I want that so much. I want time to go back.
I'm telling you this because I might not be home tomorrow as planned.
Tonight I will exchange time for eternity.
I'm coming, Hatty. I'll find you in the dark.
Hatty! Hatty!
Uncle Alan.
Come on, let's get you into bed.
Midnight. Every night at midnight footsteps running down the stairs...
He seems to be in shock.
It must have been the terror of waking up
and finding himself standing outside in the dark all alone.
And he was carrying these.
Strange things to carry around, even when sleep-walking.
- Where did he come by them? - That's what I'd like to know.
- And he was calling out to someone. - Probably his mother.
No, it was someone else.
- It was that old woman. - Mrs Bartholomew?
Why can't she leave well enough alone?
- What did she want? - An apology
for last night's disturbance.
Of course, I apologised profusely.
But she says the boy must go up himself.
That's outrageous.
I wouldn't dream of sending him up there.
No, I'll go. I ought to.
I don't mind.
I don't mind anything now.
Come in.
Your name is Tom, isn't it?
Yes. My name is Tom.
- And I've come to apolo... - Tom Long.
I'm sorry about...
You woke me in the middle of the night.
I've said I'm sorry.
You called out a name.
Tom,
you called me.
Don't you see?
You called me.
I'm Hatty.
That's the barometer.
The barometer from the Melbournes' hall!
Uh-huh.
And the owl!
I don't understand.
The garden is gone and yet...
all these things are here.
You say you were Hatty. Our Hatty!
- Yes. I was Hatty. I am Hatty. - What happened after the day
we skated to Ely and climbed the tower?
The last time we saw each other.
But that wasn't the last time we saw each other, Tom.
Have you forgotten?
Don't you remember?
That's young Barty.
His name was John Bartholomew.
That was taken soon after we married.
It was in the year 1895 that we skated to Ely
and climbed the tower.
We met Barty and he gave us a lift.
He told me later he'd made up his mind that day
he wanted me for his wife.
We married a year later.
Aunt Melbourne was more than happy to have me off her hands.
Midsummer eve was the eve of my wedding.
I was finishing the last of my packing that night.
I took what I thought was a last look around the house.
Suddenly, and I don't know why, I remembered my skates
and that made me remember you.
It had been so long since I'd seen you
and I knew I had to leave them there, in the wardrobe, where we'd agreed.
- I wrote a note to go with them. - I found the note. Signed and dated.
In one of the last years of the old century.
That night was very hot
and I was so excited, I couldn't sleep.
I thought of my wedding the next day
and for the first time, I thought of all I'd be leaving behind me.
My childhood.
All the time I'd spent in the garden.
All the time I'd spent with you, Tom.
You remembered me?
That night there was a thunderstorm
with the most brilliant lightning I was ever to see.
Aunt Melbourne was away in London.
I stood at her sitting room window and looked out over the garden.
The lightning flashes made everything very clear.
I could see every tree,
every bush, every memory.
And when I looked down, I could see you.
You were standing at the back of the house
and you looked as thin through as a piece of moonshine.
You went indoors and that was the last I saw of you.
I said to myself, he's gone, but the garden is here.
The garden will always be here.
It will never change.
At the far end of the garden, there was a ruin.
With an old tree growing out of it.
That midsummer eve, when the storm was at its worst,
a great wind caught the tree and the lightning struck it.
It fell.
You cried out.
It was then I realised, Tom,
that of course the garden was changing, all the time.
Nothing stands still.
Except in our memory.
When the house was being sold, Barty and I came over for the auction.
The past I had escaped from, but which was so much part of me,
was up for sale.
I stood with Barty in front of the mantle
in what was once the parlour.
Excuse me, sir.
In that place where I had stood on Christmas Eve
the night I realised that Barty loved me
and that I loved him.
The house was already quite different by then.
Colder, sadder, emptier.
But the clock, our clock, was still there.
Still ticking! Still alive.
Something that day, some feeling, some vestige of memory,
drew me back to what was left of the garden.
Somehow I knew that Tricksy would survive.
Barty sensed that tree, that place held a special memory for me.
Even though I could never really explain why to him.
To know that it was important to me was enough for him.
Very much in love, Barty and I stood together
beneath Tricksy's branches as the world around us continued to change.
By the end of that day, there would be just one tree still standing
in what was once our garden - Tricksy.
It's in its very own, very much smaller garden now.
I hope whoever owns it takes good care of it.
Did Barty buy the clock for you?
Yes. Barty bought the house and the clock.
I'd always loved it. Loved to hear it striking.
But you didn't come to live here? Not then.
No. We had a home in the Fens
and we were content there, more than.
We had two children.
Two boys.
They were both killed in the Great War.
The First World War, we call it now.
And then many years later, Barty died.
Peacefully. In my arms.
I was left quite alone.
And that was when I came here.
And I've lived here ever since.
Since you've come here, you've often gone back in time, haven't you?
- Back into the past? - Oh yes, Tom!
When you're my age, you live in the past.
You remember it.
You dream it.
These last few nights you've hardly dreamt about the garden at all.
You've been dreaming of winter and skating
and Barty.
Yes. Of growing up.
Of love.
Of Barty.
I suppose you couldn't really help that, if you were growing up.
You were getting thinner every time I saw you.
The last time we were together, you seemed to vanish.
So last night...
I dreamt of my wedding and of leaving here.
Last night I called to you, but I never thought you would hear me.
Oh, you woke me.
But I didn't mind.
I knew it was Tom calling for help.
- I couldn't believe you were real. - We're both real. Then and now.
It's as the pendulum says...
Time no longer.
Do you think our marks still show on Tricksy?
I dream they do.
How is that brother of yours?
- What was his name? - Peter.
Peter. Will you bring him to visit me next time you come?
I promise. And you and I...
- we keep our promises. - We do.
Until the next time.
- Goodbye, Tom. - Goodbye, Ha...
Goodbye, Mrs Bartholomew.
Goodbye, Hatty.
When he ran to her and they hugged each other,
it was as if they'd known each other for years
instead of only having met for the first time this morning.
And there was something else, Alan.
I know this sounds even more absurd,
Mrs Bartholomew's an old woman and hardly bigger than Tom, but...
when he put his arms around her
and they hugged each other goodbye, it was as if...
as if she were a little girl.
- Stop! Stop the car. - Tom!
Tom, what are you doing?
I'm sorry, sir, do you have a garden?
A small one, yes. Would you care to see it?
Tom, what are you doing? So sorry. But...
I'm sorry. Good morning. Would you mind?
Tom where are you?
Where have you gone? Tom!
We...we're very sorry. The boy...
- He's been... - He's been very ill with a bad cold.
Gwen, I think it would be...
I know what you're going to say.
I think it would be nice to have a child.
What? After everything that just happened?
With...
With Tom?
- I... - It would be wonderful.
Another life asleep in the next room.
Won't it?
Won't it just?
Of course, discipline will be paramount.
She's asleep.
How was it?
Sad to see the old place go, but...
it really hadn't been the same since she died.
Well, you were very good to her, Tom.
She loved seeing you grow up.
Seeing you married.
I wish she could have seen young Harriet.
Hmm. But she saw us here.
I've never seen her so happy as the day we brought her to this house.
She stood here and touched it...
and said, -It's all real.-
-You've made it all real, Tom.-
-And you've kept it alive.-
And so you have, my love.
# Eight years ago today
# I open up a door
# My heart got in the way
# This is what I saw
# Dreams in shades of green and gold
# Once upon a time
# Became right now
# Life is long and tenuous
# And the magic's just a door away
# After always passed forever more
# Come and take you
# I've been there before
# It's a place filled with wonder
# Filled with surprises
# Wait till you see what I saw
# Eight years ago today
# Or was it last July?
# I went outside to play
# 'Neath a summer sky
# Life is long and tenuous
# And the magic's just a door away
# After always passed forever more
# Come and take you
# I've been there before
# It's a place filled with wonder
# Filled with surprises
# Wait till you see what I saw
# Come with me, let's walk
# Through the door #
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