IMHO, the most intriguing moment in the book is that exactly. It happened when all, who was on the dinner in the Tallin's house, were searching for twins (they run away, because they want to their home). That moment of Briony's "investigation" around the territory of house.
<<So it should have been a simple matter, to pick her way down the bank and go across the grass
toward the temple. But again, she hesitated, and simply looked, without even calling out to the
twins. The building’s indistinct pallor shimmered in the dark. When she stared at it directly it
dissolved completely. It stood about a hundred feet away, and nearer, in the center of the grassy
stretch, there was a shrub she did not remember. Or rather, she remembered it being closer to the
shore. The trees were not right either, what she could see of them. The oak was too bulbous, the
elm too straggly, and in their strangeness they seemed in league. As she put her hand out to touch
the parapet of the bridge, a duck startled her with a high, unpleasant call, almost human in its
breathy downward note. It was the steepness of the bank, of course, which held her back, and the
idea of descent, and the fact that there was not much point. But she had made her decision. She
went down backward, steadying herself on clumps of grass, and at the bottom paused only to wipe
her hands on her dress.
She walked directly toward the temple, and had gone seven or eight steps, and was about to call
out the names of the twins, when the bush that lay directly in her path—the one she thought should
be closer to the shore—began to break up in front of her, or double itself, or waver, and then fork.
It was changing its shape in a complicated way, thinning at the base as a vertical column rose five
or six feet. She would have stopped immediately had she not still been so completely bound to the
notion that this was a bush, and that she was witnessing some trick of darkness and perspective.
Another second or two, another couple of steps, and she saw that this was not so. Then she
stopped. The vertical mass was a figure, a person who was now backing away from her and
beginning to fade into the darker background of the trees. The remaining darker patch on the
ground was also a person, changing shape again as it sat up and called her name.
“Briony?”>>
toward the temple. But again, she hesitated, and simply looked, without even calling out to the
twins. The building’s indistinct pallor shimmered in the dark. When she stared at it directly it
dissolved completely. It stood about a hundred feet away, and nearer, in the center of the grassy
stretch, there was a shrub she did not remember. Or rather, she remembered it being closer to the
shore. The trees were not right either, what she could see of them. The oak was too bulbous, the
elm too straggly, and in their strangeness they seemed in league. As she put her hand out to touch
the parapet of the bridge, a duck startled her with a high, unpleasant call, almost human in its
breathy downward note. It was the steepness of the bank, of course, which held her back, and the
idea of descent, and the fact that there was not much point. But she had made her decision. She
went down backward, steadying herself on clumps of grass, and at the bottom paused only to wipe
her hands on her dress.
She walked directly toward the temple, and had gone seven or eight steps, and was about to call
out the names of the twins, when the bush that lay directly in her path—the one she thought should
be closer to the shore—began to break up in front of her, or double itself, or waver, and then fork.
It was changing its shape in a complicated way, thinning at the base as a vertical column rose five
or six feet. She would have stopped immediately had she not still been so completely bound to the
notion that this was a bush, and that she was witnessing some trick of darkness and perspective.
Another second or two, another couple of steps, and she saw that this was not so. Then she
stopped. The vertical mass was a figure, a person who was now backing away from her and
beginning to fade into the darker background of the trees. The remaining darker patch on the
ground was also a person, changing shape again as it sat up and called her name.
“Briony?”>>
Finally, she found Lola, not twins. Lola was sexual assaulted by man, whose face could not be visible, because of the dark (it was night). But Briony's imagination and situations which she saw, for example in the library, make her thought that it was Robbie. She always repeated one phrase: "I CAN. AND I WILL". This phrase mean that she can blame Robbie, she saw him, and she absolutely sure in her guess.
So...I think, that Robbie loved Cecilia and he could not do this. I don't believe in it.
P.s. My book include three parts. The first one end, when Robbie was arrested and he was taken away by policeman in the car.
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