Tom's Midnight Garden (1999) - full transcript

Young Tom Long is forced to stay with his kindly Aunt and Uncle while his brother recovers from a bout of the measles. At their flat, he is disappointed to find there is no garden to play in; but his disappointment turns to wonder when he discovers a magical garden which only appears at night when an old grandfather clock strikes thirteen. His nightly excursions to this beautiful garden become even more interesting when he realises that the people he meets cannot see him - except one young girl named Hattie.

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 #

DVD Subtitles
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