05x08 - Episode 8

[bunniefuu]

'Women write their history

'in the words that pass
between them.'

Hello.

'Too often, we leave no trace
beyond the children born,

'the clothing stitched,

'the service given, the choices
made - IF there was choice at all.

'But in 1961,
we were choosing routes

'and taking byways
never walked before.'

'We did not hesitate or stumble

'because all roads were unexplored
and everything was possible.'

Yesterday's referral letters for the
Family Planning Association Clinic.

If you sign them now, we'll get them
off ahead of this morning's batch.

There must be a queue right round
the block at that clinic.

There's a queue right round
our waiting room this morning.

Sandrine Weller's in next. Miss.

Unmarried women can't be referred
for oral contraception!

It's no better than the Dutch cap
in that regard.

Rules are rules, Patrick.

It isn't what we hoped for.

No, but it's a start.

And you still change lives
for the better.

- Coo-ee! Violet!
- Hello, Tessie!

You remember Tessie,
don't you, Fred?

Her brother married my cousin, Enid.

Yes, and he was never happy again.

Mitchell, put your shoulders back
and say hello to Violet.

- Hello, Violet.
- Hello, Mitchell, love.

I'm sorry it didn't work
out for you in Australia.

I've a bloody good mind to write to
that Prime Minister.

They're quick enough to ship
him out there for £10 a head,

and then if they don't like it
and they want to come home,

it's pay the full whack for
your ticket or swim!

I heard you was
working on a sheep farm.

That can't have been very pleasant.

The things they had him chopping off
would have turned your stomach.

Suffice to say,
it weren't just wool.

I'm a city lad, Violet.

I've got steady work on the tools
in Lipkin's Plumbing now.

Ah, good for you!
The East End raised you.

Now you can get stuck in
and sort those khazies out!

Thank you(!)

He doesn't need compost
all over his lapels.

We're on our way to a consultation.

Mum, there's a notice in the window.

"Mr Hereward is available in
the church vestry

"between 12 noon and 2pm
each weekday."

Oh, so much for "knock
and it shall be opened unto you"!

Coo-ee! Reverend?

Oh! We want to organise a wedding.

- Well, then, I should put a shirt on.
- I think that would be preferable.

Mitchell's got a fiancee.
She's Australian.

He's had to leave her behind until
they have enough for her passage,

and now she's on the SS Canberra
and...

well, she's in the family way.

How far along... in the family way?

Far enough.

Mitchell never knew when he set off,
and I can't say I'm sorry,

because if he had,
he never would have come home.

I'm sure he wouldn't.

But, Mitchell,
as soon as your fiancee arrives,

we could start to plan the wedding.

It takes three weeks
to call the banns.

We haven't got three weeks.
We might not even have three days!

The ship was delayed at Cape Town

and by the time they dock,
Noelle might have given birth!

Well, under the circumstances,

no-one will condemn her,
or the child.

It will still be a bastard.

Mum!

I want them married
the minute that boat docks.

My goodness, young Lenny,
you are filling out nicely!

Have you got bricks in your pockets?

Marbles? Hm!

Well, must be all that extra milk
we're getting into you.

Right, off you hop,

and Sister Monica Joan will give you
a liquorice allsort.

It is Sooty who is handing out
the liquorice allsorts today, not I.

Mrs Clarke?

You've got her well wrapped up.

Oh, she feels the cold, does Susan.

And it's gone quite nippy out.

I'd have loved a little girl.

Oh, she's got the face of an angel.

Well, I wish she had
the lungs of an angel!

You should see her kicking off
when something doesn't suit.

Proper Miss Determined, she is.

It's probably just as well.

You can take that blanket off

if she's hot. I don't mind, honest.

Mrs Mullucks and Susan?

Yeah.

You've got quite a grip in those
little fingers, Miss Mullucks.

She can hold a rattle in them,

Dr Turner, and a spoon!

She can't get it in her mouth yet,
but...

Most children can't feed themselves
until they're a wee bit older.

Last time we were in the
children's hospital, there was

a little boy born just like Susan,
only with proper legs and feet...

...and he was having his fingers
amputated.

Doctors said they'd be no use to him
cos they were so misshapen.

I think you should encourage Susan
to lean towards things,

Rhoda, try to pick them up.

She has some muscle at the shoulder

and it may be she can develop it.

Should I make her an appointment
with the occupational therapist?

Oh, Rhoda! Don't cry.

You're doing so well!

I remember you saying that to me
when I was having her.

"You're doing so well!
You're doing so well!"

And I thought, once I'd pushed her
out, the pain would be over.

I'll be out your hair in a minute.

Sister Winifred had a fainter.
Sweet tea and a ginger nut required.

What happened to you?

Baby Williams evacuated his bowels
at the weighing station.

You can't go back out
covered in all-sorts!

That is a very copious stool!

Have you spoken to the
mother about his feeding pattern?

Would YOU like to talk to her?

I'm very happy to do
the child-development checks.

No, Nurse. You know my policy
and I am standing firm.

Babies are a two-handed job.
I do not handle newborns any more.

Here, here. It's creased
but clean as a whistle.

You make sure you speak
to Mrs Williams.

When she's tucked in her pram
or all wrapped up, it's not so bad.

She looks like any other baby,
and people don't stare.

Or when she's in the house, I just
have her in a nappy and a vest,

and she sits there, all propped up,
smiling like nothing's the matter.

And then I remember
in the middle of the night.

I remember that she's got no arms...

and no legs.

I just lie there, shaking.

Are you getting much sleep, Rhoda?

Because we can help with that.

I can give you a mild sedative

and you can take it
only when you need it.

It's called Distaval.

If I can't fix her,
I've got to fix myself.

On my next day off, I'm going to buy
myself a new pair of pantyhose.

Pantyhose?
What on earth are pantyhose?

They're a new
kind of suspender-less stocking.

They've had them in America
for years.

You make that sound
like a recommendation!

But think, Phyllis - no metal clips,
no buttons, no belts,

nothing digging in.

Just silky, whisper-light,

nylon clinging like a second skin
from waist to toe.

Sounds like a breeding ground
for yeast!

Oh, I wish we had one of those
plastic tomatoes!

I can't get anything out of this
bottle at all!

Is there nowhere a woman can get 40

uninterrupted winks
around this place?

Five minutes to
gather my thoughts before Compline!

That's all I ask -
and what do I get?

Conversations about nylons

and sauce bottles being banged
like it's going out of fashion!

Sorry, Sister Evangelina.

I take it we can't tempt you
to a savoury snack?

No.

Oh! Morning, Tessie!

Violet!

I heard about Mitchell's fiancee.

Oh, bless the girl, coming
all that way across the world!

Love knows no boundaries.

- Who told YOU?
- Mr Ballard at the stationer's.

And he said you was in yesterday,
ordering wedding invitations.

Yes.

And today, I've come to you
to order two dozen nappy pins,

two dozen terry squares,
six pairs of plastic pants,

a heavy-duty sanitary belt
and a packet of maternity towels.

And none of it's for me.

I see.

Well, you'll have to get her
signed up with the Sisters, Tessie.

Mum, Noelle's ship's in tomorrow!

It was in the paper.
I called in the dock office

and they said it was definite!

You'd better add a maternity girdle
to that list.

I have my doubts about Australian
foundation garments.

Congratulations!

That's absolutely perfect, Tripti.

There's no need to thank me, Muna.

It's all part of the job.

Now, let's get you on the bed and
see if we can have a listen to Baby.

Oh! Mr Valluk, I beg your pardon.
Are you working shifts again?

I'm sorry, but he will not look.

It's all right.

Once I delivered a baby with the
father fast asleep beside his wife!

But he was drunk,
and Mr Valluk just looks tired.

It's not the home we left,
but it is a new home.

That is why I want the baby born
here, in my bed.

And if that is what you want,
that is what you shall have.

- Something has bite you?
- No, not at all.

Hello, Mum!

What do you think you're doing,
pitching up early?

They let her off the boat first
because she's in the family way.

There's certainly no missing it,
is there?

And here she is. This is Noelle.

I was going to put balloons up
and a notice saying, "Welcome!"

But I didn't want you to think
I was common.

The house looks lovely.
Can I call you Tessie, Mrs Anselm?

I think you'd better call me Mum.
Come on.

I think I'm allergic to fleas.

I never get just a little bite mark,
always a great itchy welt.

There are some houses I go to where
I have to wear bicycle clips

to stop the fleas going up
my trouser legs.

And yet people try so hard. It's
almost always the landlord's fault.

Where there are bad drains,
there are rats,

and where there are rats,
there are fleas.
- Or bed bugs.

Bed bugs can really
sink their teeth in

when you're sitting with the dying.

And on that romantic note, where are
we going to go this evening?

I have it on good authority
that the Palace Picture House was

fumigated just last week.

I don't want to go to the cinema
tonight.

I want to talk to you.

I'm always agreeable to that.

And perhaps dance a little?

I'm agreeable to that, too.

Although, please note,
I'm not wearing any Brylcreem,

so wherever we go,
the walls will be quite safe.

I can't believe I'm finally getting
my own passport!

I can't believe
you've never had one.

Your dad was a shipbroker
who travelled the world.

Mine had a draper's shop
in Pembrokeshire.

I'm amazed my mother
doesn't get vaccinations

when she comes to London
to visit Auntie Blod!

When's she coming again?

Monday. I already wrote to ask her
to bring my birth certificate.

What is it?

That woman's here again -

the one that sneaks the gin
into her coffee.

I used to think
she must be on the game

but I've never seen her
with a client.

I just think
she's lonely or heartbroken.

Or both, maybe.

She looks familiar, somehow,
but I don't think I know her.

I've no objection to them converting
the attics at the Mother House

but why do they have to send us
all their junk and tat?

I have merely managed to unearth
two copies of

Jessica's First Prayer and The
Collected Works Of Walter Scott.

That sounds like Sister Eustace.

There was always a strange streak
about her.

I never knew
if it was v*olence or romance.

This one seems to be
full of party frocks.

There must be half a dozen of them
and they're all white.

It's my wedding dress!

Really?

I'll never forget putting this on
to take my vows

and enter the novitiate.

I had to wear high heels with it,
and Mother Alice made me

practise walking up and down in them
until I had blisters!

And this one's mine.

It was almost thrown out

because there was silver embroidery
on the sleeves!

In the end,
I had to unpick every stitch.

I felt rather sorry for the bride
that donated it.

I was quite sad when I was told
I'd be making my vows in my habit.

I hadn't realised the Order had
given up the custom until then.

Sister, the expression on your face
was worth 1,000 frills

and falderals!
And I don't mind telling you,

I felt like an absolute sideshow
in my big white frock!

I'm sure you looked lovely.

It was just a load of nonsense!

I'd never had any dreams
of a wedding day.

I had, once upon a time.

I think my mother had, too.

Mostly sad for her.

Is this one yours,
Sister Evangelina?

Ooh! If there's enough crepe de
chine in it to make a parachute,

yeah, it must be!

Thine, and mine also...

...though I was tall and needed
no heels to boost my height.

Oh, Sister, really?

We have desired to go

Where springs not fail...

To fields where flies no sharp
and sided hail...

And a few lilies blow.

And on that note, may I suggest we
put on some milk for the Horlicks?

Sister Evangelina, I've just been
called out to Tripti Valluk

and I'm slightly nervous
about going on my own.

Whatever for?

The family's housing is so poor.

The only tap's outside
and I know the toilet's broken,

and even with my little bits
of Sylheti, there'll be

communication problems with anyone
other than Tripti herself.

Little bits of Sylheti?

I've been picking words up
and writing them down phonetically

when I can.

You don't often remind me of myself
when young.

You're too disorganised
and too slim!

But I remember teaching myself
some words of Yiddish

when I first came to Poplar.

What does that mean?

"I can see Baby's head!"
and, "We're almost there!"

Welcome words to any mother
after a hard labour,

but I reckon they deserve
to hear them in their own language.

Get your bag, I'm coming with you.
But you're the midwife, mind!

I'm just there
to do the donkey work.

Fred, this front tyre
is as soft as butter!

I told you last week, yesterday,
and I'm telling you now!

Well, I keep pumping it up. I don't
know what's the matter with it.

How about something beginning with
"P" and ending in "uncture"?

Sister Evangelina...

I can't stand here lecturing you
in rudimentary engineering!

Nurse Gilbert has a patient waiting.

Oh! Whose dinner's
THIS supposed to be?

Ah, Muna must have prepared it
for later.

After the birth, Tripti

and her baby will go into a period
of seclusion, where they'll

just rest and not see anyone,
including her husband, for a while.

Can't fault that arrangement.

At home in Sylhet, women sleep on
floor for one week after baby comes.

Here, there is no space on floor.
Room too small.

Too many unwelcome visitors,
if you ask me.

Oh! Have you got any soap,
Mrs Valluk? Fairy, Lifebuoy,

anything will do.

Yesterday, I cleaned everything,
all of room.

You may start feeling the urge
to push soon, Tripti.

Sunlight! That'll do.

Do you want to unpack the gas
and air,

just in case we need it
for the final stretch?

In my view, Nurse,
if mother's doing well, you don't

want to upset the applecart
by waving it under her nose.

Um, I'll go down to the tap,
fill the bucket.

The placenta will come soon, Tripti.

It's only been half an hour,
and it can take up to an hour.

This water's perfect
for Baby's bath.

We can't keep feeding the meter
just to keep it on the simmer.

We've got candles for
if the gas runs out,

but would YOU be able to bath Baby
now, Sister Evangelina?

No, you know
I don't handle newborns any more.

I made a rule,
and I'm sticking by it.

But this room isn't very warm
and the water may go cold

while I wait with Tripti,
and we may put off cleaning Baby.

It would be very helpful
if you stepped in.

Oh!

I think this young lady
has been here before...

Maybe not in this continent,
maybe not in weather like this,

but she's been here.

Come on, little girl. Bad-oop,
bad-oop, bad-oop! That's it.

I hope your mummy's got some vests

for you to wear

underneath your pretty clothes.

Go and see to Mother, Nurse Gilbert.

Baby and I are getting along...

...just fine. Yeah.

Would you like some tea and toast,
Sister Evangelina?

I reckon we've earned
more than toast.

There's half a chocolate-button cake
in a tin in the bottom cupboard.

Have a look at the back,
behind the All-Bran.

Oh. There's none left.

I fear our noble friends, the rats,

must have been there in advance
of us.

Oh, yes, those special rats
that can open tins

and only live in convent kitchens(!)

Oh! Cocoa-flavoured buttercream

and a rogue splinter of chocolate
button? You are slipping up, Sister.

You missed a bit!

I chanced upon some water biscuits.

They have no lure for rats.

Do you still want a cup of tea?

Suppose I shall have
to settle for one,

seeing as it's the only sustenance
I'm going to get!

I'll bring it over.

Oh!

Oh!

Here you are, Sister. Keep
the chill off you while you wait.

Thank you.

Morning, Sister!

I can't say I blame you!

I love a sit-down before breakfast -
that's if I can get one.

Best bit of the day.

...especially if I nod off and
wake up to the smell of my Violet

frying bacon.

Oh! Sorry!

Sister Evangelina?

Oh, no!

- Look!
- What's this?

Have you given any more thought
to buying Angela

a doll's pram for her birthday?

- Would you like it?
- She always makes such a beeline

for the one at the community centre!

Why spend all that money

when she seems perfectly happy with
a basket of sticks and pine cones?!

Ah, just in time for some bacon!
Where's your scarf?

It's a school scarf,

so I wear it on school days,
and today's a Saturday!

Ah, which means
we get our copy of The Lancet!

Mr Miller sent you a copy of the
Exchange & Mart as well today.

I asked him if it was a mistake
but he said no.

It isn't. We're going to be looking
at the "doll's pram" section.

Ooh, thank you. What a lovely house!

Dad, she understands everything
we say!

Patrick, you're needed
at Nonnatus House.

I would put money
on another stroke -

a massive bleed to her brain
that took her while she slept.

But she hadn't seen you or
any doctor

since she came back to Poplar.

Will there have to be a postmortem?

It's a sudden death. I will have
to inform the coroner.

You shall not take her
from this place!

Sister Monica Joan, Doctor Turner
has to inform the authorities.

He has no choice
and no say in what is ordered.

The Lord himself assured us
of the resurrection of the body.

How is our Sister to rise again...

...if her earthly form is not intact?

She will need eyes to see...

...a brain to think...

...a heart to love.

If you mutilate her now,
you maim her for eternity.

Oh, my dear.

We cannot address this now.

You and I will join our Sisters
in the chapel and we will pray

when we have attended
to all that is essential.

Do you suggest that prayer
is not essential?

I suggest that prayer can wait.

Whatever must be done on Earth,

we know our Sister is in Heaven.

It is her reward,
and we must not resent or fight it.

I spoke to the coroner's office.

Given her recent stroke and the
impairment she was left with,

it looks as though we can avoid
a postmortem.

Oh, Patrick!

I'm sorry.

I know how much she meant to you,
to everyone.

Who am I going to spar with now?

I'm not crying about that.

I was, but I decided
Sister Evangelina wouldn't approve,

so I sent Timothy out with Angela

and went into the surgery
to see to the morning's post.

They're withdrawing Distaval?

With immediate effect.

Babies have been born deformed, and
they think there's a link with it.

This is official?

I rang the Board of Health.

I didn't think there'd be
anyone there today,

but the line was engaged.

I didn't think that was a good sign,
so I looked in The Lancet...

...and there's a letter
to the editor.

Thalidomide.
It's from Distillers Biochemicals.

But they just say that there
is a possible association with

harmful effects on the foetus.

And it also says there are only
two reports from abroad

and none from Great Britain.

I don't understand it.

But this letter came, Patrick!
Distaval's being withdrawn!

Shelagh, I have prescribed Distaval
to dozens of patients...

...perhaps scores!

Deformed babies have been born
in our district.

We need to speak to someone...

...and then we need to act.

I don't think anything's going
to happen just yet, Noelle.

I feel like a bit of a chump,

calling you out
when there was no need.

If a quick home visit
helps you to relax

and look forward to your wedding,
that's all to the good.

It's like being royalty.

Mr Hereward says
that the special license

came from the
Archbishop of Canterbury.

Grand as well as quick!

Is that your outfit?

I brought the maternity dress
from home,

and Tessie took charge
of the accessories.

We tried and tried to find me
a proper gown

but all the dressmakers were
busy and... well,

I'm not going to get anything
off-the-peg in my condition, am I?

Perhaps not...

...but I love the colours and Tessie
certainly knows how to pick a hat.

It's just not very bridal.

It's not like I thought it would be
when I was little and used

to run round with one of Mum's lace
curtains on my head on a wash day.

She used to say she couldn't wait
to see me all in white.

You'll still look beautiful, Noelle.

But will I feel like a bride?

No, I won't call back later.

I'm quite content to remain on hold,
thank you.

Patrick, you don't know
how the filing system works!

Leave it alone or come and hold
the telephone instead of me.

- 'Can we ask you hold the line,
caller?'
- Very well.

News travels so quickly.

Forget-Me-Not Lane Florists
just telephoned

and offered to provide the wreath of
our choice for her, free of charge.

But our vow of poverty was
so very important to her.

Everything she ever had,
she tried to give away.

I thought of that when I was looking
at Noelle's wedding outfit.

It was as though I heard
Sister Evangelina's voice.

Really?

Clearly as I hear God's, when
something deep and precious happens,

as clearly as I ever heard hers
when she was telling me off,

which happened quite often
over the years.

It happened to me, too.

But this time, she was saying,
"Poor girl,

"all the way from Australia,

"Tessie Anselm as a mother-in-law
and no proper wedding dress.

"Give her mine, for pity's sake!"

Well, now's not the time
to start arguing with her, is it?

Is it?

Nonnatus House?

Sister,

I'm afraid I have to ask you to come
to the surgery as soon you can.

Is it to do with
the coroner's arrangements?

No.

I thought you might like a cuppa,
Fred. It's well-sugared.

Thank you.

I'm all right, I just, er...

I didn't know what to do
so I thought I'd come and do this.

Well, I'm sure Sister Evangelina
would be grateful, Fred.

No, she wouldn't.

She never once said "thank you" in
18 years of bicycle maintenance!

She was a grafter, and grafters
don't waste time on pleasantries.

I'm just doing

what she would have done
if the shoe was on the other foot.

I'm just doing what I do.

Somebody's fudging something,
if you ask me.

There must have been more than just
one or two cases.

And pound to a penny,
there's been some in THIS country.

What about Baby Cottingham -

the limbless baby
that d*ed in St Cuthbert's?

Ruby, the child's mother,
was one of our patients.

I was with Ruby
when she was in labour.

When the baby was finally born...
in theatre,

the surgeon said,
"Oh, my God. Another one!"

The Officer for Health told us that

the drug was banned in Germany
last week.

It's called Contergan over there,
but it's the same drug -

Thalidomide.

The first thing we thought of
was little Susan Mullucks,

but her mother was never prescribed
Distaval until last week.

We can't be sure
that there's any connection at all

until we find out more.

Well, never mind finding out more.
Get the tablets she HAS got off her.

Who's to say she won't conceive
again and keep on taking them?

Doctor, there must be dozens of
women, pregnant and otherwise,

who have been prescribed this.

Yes, by me.

I don't know how to put it right!

Patrick, sit down.

Sister, go back to Nonnatus House.

You have things to see to there
that no-one else can do.

And send me Nurse Mount.

She's a champion Rolodexer
and she stays calm under fire.

Doctor, you're not to blame.

Oh, I will be, if one more woman,

pregnant or otherwise, swallows
one more of those vile pills.

We brought nothing into this world.

And it is certain
that we can carry nothing out.

The Lord gave,
and the Lord hath taken away.

Blessed be the Name of the Lord.

Blessed are the dead
who die in the Lord.

Even so saith the Spirit,
for they rest from their labours.

The undertaker's arrived.

I just don't understand it.

We now have a list of seven women
who were given Distaval

specifically to help
with intractable morning sickness,

but they all gave birth
to normal, healthy babies.

Are you sure?

They were all taking it from as
early as nine weeks into pregnancy,

but none of them started sooner
than October of last year.

And prior to that, it was only ever
prescribed as a sedative.

What about Jeffrey Gallagher's
mother?

He was the little chap born
without thumbs.

The Gallaghers left the district.

They went to live in Haverhill
in Suffolk.

I've got a positive
for Ruby Cottingham.

She's had it recently,

but she wasn't prescribed it
during pregnancy.

Then I looked further back.

Her husband was away at sea and
she had three little lads underfoot.

Dr Turner diagnosed her with anxiety
leading to sleeplessness.

I'm sorry.

She must have had some left,
kept them in the cupboard.

People do.

- Turner speaking.
- 'Turner, it's Jacques here.'

- Dr Jacques?
- 'You rang me earlier.'

Yes, yes,
it's good of you to take my call.

'We've got work to do. I think
we're all in the same boat.'

Yes.

You're sure you want her
to be at rest here, Sister?

There'll be so many
wanting to pay their respects.

The thing is, we East End people see
Sister Evangelina as one of our own.

I know.

She's one of our own, too...

...and I'm not sure
we can spare her yet.

If you would grant us the honour,
Sister,

Crellin & Sons would like
to take care of everything -

the coffin, the hearse,
the burial place, the headstone.

There will be no charge.

No charge at all?

I was born two months
before I should have been,

and I nearly k*lled my mother.

Sister Evangelina bathed me
in olive oil...

...wrapped me up in lint...

...and sat by my mum's bed
for seven days.

She never took a penny piece.

And now it's time for me
to pay back what I owe.

Rhoda Mullucks' sister, Ava,
left Poplar two years ago

and moved to Harlow.

Dr Jacques prescribed Distaval
for her for insomnia

shortly afterwards.

She would have had the tablets
in supply 18 months ago,

round about the time
that Susan was conceived.

So we write
to Jeffrey Gallagher's GP,

warn of the possible connection
to his missing thumbs.

And we ask Rhoda Mullucks
if she took her sister's tablets.

And we tell Ruby Cottingham
why her baby d*ed.

I think Sister Julienne
will want to do that.

Yes.

- Mr Tunnicliffe?
- Yeah?
- May I speak to your wife?

It's regarding a problem
with her prescription medication.

I must take them,
I'm afraid, Mrs Jones,

even if there are
just two remaining.

Mrs Michaels?

Prescription patients have been
passing Distaval around

as if they were nuts at a party.

I've knocked at Rhoda Mullucks'
house twice.

There's no-one in. Her neighbours
don't know where they've gone.

Mrs Cottingham...

Last time I saw you,
I was in the hospital.

Called me Ruby then.

Ruby, your eldest boy told me
where I might find you.

I'd stay home more, but
I can't stand the noise of them.

Boys CAN be a trial.

Wanted that little girl so much,
Sister.

I know.

I thought if I gave her a name,
might help her go away...

...that if I made her into someone,
I could forget her.

But... I can't.
Can't forget someone you never knew.

And the names I do try and give her

just blow round my head
like leaves, bits of feathers.

Some days she's Amanda...

...some days she's Janine or Rose.

They're all beautiful names, Ruby.

I can't catch her,
can't pin her down.

Ruby, I came because...

...because it seems
there's some new information which

might help us to understand why
your little girl was born so poorly.

She was poorly, wasn't she?

You saw?

I did.

It seems possible that you may have
inadvertently taken some medication

whilst you were expecting her
that caused a lot of damage.

What does "inadvertently" mean?

It means it wasn't your fault.

The medication is called Distaval,
and it's being withdrawn from sale.

You'll be wanting these, then?

Yes.

Can I just take one last one?

I'm all done with the iron
if you want it.

It's this hat that's giving me
the run-around.

Not had it out of its box
since I buried Mother.

I just thought I'd get ahead
with mine.

I'm first on call, and if I'm called
out, I may not get a chance.

Didn't you want to go out
with the others?

Not to the Hand And Shears.

I really didn't fancy
a complexion-ruining evening

of orange squash
and pork scratchings.

I can't say I blame you.

But please don't offer me
a cup of Horlicks.

If you do, I might burst into tears.

God love you, but you look lonely.

I'm so sorry! Oh!

And you didn't even offer me
any Horlicks!

You know what I like about you,
lass? You're a trier.

And if there's any justice in
the world, you'll get your reward.

I hope so.

But it doesn't have to be a man,
Nurse Crane.

It's not actually the lack of a man
that bothers me.

When I see Tom and Barbara
together now,

- I don't see what
- I might have had
I see what THEY have.

They belong somewhere,
and they're contented.

I can't tell you how much
I'd love to feel like that.

But it doesn't have to be
because of a man. It really doesn't.

Trixie,

there are some women who make a very
decent fist of being spinsters.

I like to think I'm one of them,

and if we sidestep the small detail
of her marriage to Jesus,

so was Sister Evangelina.

But you aren't, and there's no use
pretending otherwise.

No.

Come on.

Iron your funeral outfit.

Let's see what Father Christmas
brings you.

Nine months gone

in Sister Evangelina's
wedding dress.

You'll have to hold it lower
than that.

No, lower.

You'll be glad you did
when the photographs come out.

You'll be glad you wore white
and all.

You look a picture!

I just wanted to see her

before the crowds come in.

Of course you do.

I wanted to see her myself.

I used to be so terrified of her.

Me too.

And I'm generally not
the terrified type.

But she taught me so much.

Me too.

I don't know why you don't move in
with your Auntie Blod

and save on all that rent
you're paying in the convent.

If I decide to train as a midwife,

I have to live in hospital-approved
accommodation.

East Finchley will be too far away.

What do you mean,
train as a midwife?

You don't want to be doing
such a nasty, personal sort of job!

I do it.

I know you do.

You two are as thick as thieves.

And this butter is too cold
for these teacakes!

Mrs Busby, would you give Delia
her birth certificate?

What for? So she can book herself
onto this training course?

No, so she can apply for a passport

because she isn't going
to Pembrokeshire

for her holiday next spring.

She's coming to Paris with me.

I'm not an unsophisticated woman.

I've been to Jersey...

...and the Isle of Man.

You always did things your own way.

I can bear it if you upset me.

I'm your mum...

...and you're a grown woman.

Thank you, Mrs Busby.

Just don't do anything
to make your dad cry.

Congratulations, darling.

I feel like I can breathe out now!

I don't. Reckon I need a lie-down.

I kept hoping
it would all just fizzle out,

but I tried that when I first
found out I was in the family way

and it didn't work then, either.

Ooh! Ooh!

Mr Hereward!

You know where the phone is -
go and ring Nonnatus House!

I just don't think we should push
our way to the front of the queue.

It's exactly the kind of thing
Sister Evangelina wouldn't like.

She wouldn't like me wasting time
when I could be at work, either,

or you making yourself late
for Scouts.

Mrs Turner?

We went to the seaside
at the weekend.

It was a bit blowy,
but it did us all good,

including Susan.

And then I heard the news.

The news?

About Sister Evangelina.

Oh.

You're saying I took a pill?

Just one pill could do this
to my baby?

How many did you take, Rhoda?

I don't know! My sister gave me some
in an envelope.

She said they'd help me sleep.

Better than a gin, she said!

And I don't have gin in.
We were on a budget.

I don't know how many I took!

Rhoda... Rhoda... nobody knows
for sure what's happened,

but nobody's going to rest
until questions have been answered.

What sort of questions?

"Why did you take them, Rhoda?"

"Why don't you just get on with it?"

"Why do you have to have a stupid
pill to make you happy

"all the time?"

You are not to blame, Rhoda,
I promise you.

Bernie's taken
to calling her "my beautiful".

I first heard him say that

when she was about four months old

and I thought, "That's it,

"we're going to be all right.

"Susan's going to be all right
because her daddy loves her."

And then, the very next day,

some mate of his from work

crossed over the street
because he saw us coming,

and I never heard him say
"beautiful" again

for ever such a long time...

...and then yesterday at the seaside.

Bernie would have been the one
to cross over once.

Maybe I would have, too.

But he can't, I can't.

Not now,
because she's ours.

I'm sorry, Susan.

I'm sorry.
I'm so, so sorry.

- Come on, Noelle!
- Good girl!
- That's it!

Why is it taking so long?

It isn't. I promise you, it isn't.

♪ Round and round and up and down
we go again

♪ Oh, baby, make me know
you love me so... ♪

Come on!

♪ Twist again, like we did
last summer

♪ Come on, twist again
Like we did last year

♪ Twist... ♪

It's a little boy, Noelle.

Oh, he's beautiful!

But that dress is ruined!

That dress just had the best day
of its life.

It's a boy, Mitchell!

'None of us know how
long the things we love will last.'

People are lining the route all
the way to the church, Sister.

I've stopped the traffic as far
as the Commercial Road.

Thank you.

It's the least we can do if we
aren't allowed to give her flowers.

The coffin does look so very bare.

'Sister Evangelina went to her rest
surrounded by her colleagues

'and mourned
by people she had nursed,

'wheeled through streets imprinted
with her footsteps and her faith.'

They mark her spirit
as well as any bloom...

...and deserve their rest
as much as she.

♪ Till the moon deserts the sky

♪ Till all the seas run dry

♪ Till then I'll worship you

♪ Till the tropic sun grows cold

♪ Till this young world grows old

♪ My darling, I'll adore you

♪ You are my reason to live

♪ All I own I would give... ♪

'If she WAS looking down that day,

'she would have been surprised
to see she was no longer there

'and vexed that service had come
to a standstill.

'The world was hers no longer,
and she wanted no memorial,

'but her work carried on
in the love that lived beyond her

'and the hope that knew no end.'

♪ Till lovers cease to dream

♪ Till then I'm yours, be mine. ♪