Original subtitles

Sometimes in life we get the chance to start again.

We breathe deep, stand tall.

We prepare to make our way.

The future waits, the night is ended.

The light is flooding in.

This is the morning that we dreamed of when we struggled.

This is the dawn, the new day, the road back.

This is everything we wanted,

everything we thought was lost.

And our journey begins

with steps so few that a child could count them,

forged by the force of life itself.

Straight to the maternity home as soon as you're ready,

Nurse Anderson!

- Yes, Nurse Crane. - Good morning, ladies!

One delivery of iodine paste for the venous ulcer cases,

fresh from the chemist,

and one tin of biscuits, fresh from my daughters' hands!

Angela and May always like to bake something

when Mother Mildred visits.

I'm not telling you what I'd like to do when Mother Mildred visits.

Oh, gingerbread monsters.

That's, er, novel.

They're actually shortbread nurses.

The girls wanted to make them nun-shaped, but I...

...I thought that might be seen as disrespectful.

Good morning, ladies.

I've just been informed that Mother Mildred will not be arriving

- at teatime today. - She's not gonna come early, is she?

She's not going to come at all.

Nevertheless, we have important matters to discuss,

and Mother Mildred will telephone later this morning.

Sister Hilda, I'd like you to join me.

If you would bring a tray of coffee

I shall require two spoons of Nescafe.

- Morning, Mrs Buckle. - Morning.

When you close the shop at lunchtime,

I need you to nip to the cash-and-carry and fetch a gross

of assorted chocolate eggs.

We've only just had Pancake Day!

Ha, well, that's as may be, Fred Buckle,

but we don't want the Easter Bunny being caught on the hop!

The Easter Bunny being you.

Vi, I wanted to get across to the allotment.

There's daffodils need deadheading and I think Mr Rat's back,

underneath that shed.

You can't go wandering all over Poplar doing whatever you like

until we can afford an assistant.

And we can't afford an assistant

until we've rented the flat upstairs.

That card's been stuck in the window for weeks.

Needs to be bigger.

Mrs Winch! Whatever do you think you're doing?

Scrubbing my step, Sister.

I thought you'd approve - cleanliness being next to godliness

and all of that.

It isn't next to godliness when you're nine months pregnant.

I've brought your delivery pack

and I've come to do your antenatal check.

Oh, I was going to the clinic this afternoon anyway.

I've already washed out a jar to have a wee in.

We make an outing of it every Tuesday, don't we, Glenys?

I can help her with the twins, they're into everything these days.

You have mine, Sister. I'll fetch myself another.

Oh, are you feeling better?

You were bent double with bellyache this morning.

Your vulgar language is offending my shell-like ears.

I don't get bellyache, I have a delicate stomach.

You can't live on rice pudding, Derek.

Oh, yeah? Hasn't killed me yet.

Sister, you're knocking that back like a stiff gin.

I've never had a stiff gin in my life,

which isn't to say I wouldn't like one now.

And no wonder.

You've just told Mother Mildred that Nonnatus House is going private?

Correction - I've suggested that the Order supplies midwives

to a private maternity hospital in Mayfair.

The finances raised nursing the richest women in London

will be ploughed back into Nonnatus House

and enable us to carry on serving the very poorest.

And as Mother Mildred responded,

"Rather in the manner of Robin Hood with wimples!"

I heard every word.

I've been corresponding with

Mr Scarisbrick of the Lady Emily clinic

for some time now.

He wants the cachet of religious Sisters nursing on his premises,

and we need the money he is prepared to pay.

But Mother Mildred says no Sister may set foot on his premises

until all due diligence has been observed.

How on Earth are you going to do that?

I know exactly how I'm going to do it.

Oh!

I'm sorry, Sister Julienne.

Althea Mulligan's episiotomy needed a bit of a once-over,

and I was late leaving the maternity home.

Miss Higgins said you asked to see me.

Yes, Nurse Franklin. I did.

Promise me it's not another set of twins, Dr Turner! Promise me.

You say that at every appointment, Mrs Winch!

And Doctor will say what he always says.

If you were having a second set of twins,

he'd have worked it out by now.

He didn't work it out last time till he saw the second one's backside!

Stop giving him a hard time, Glenys!

You're only half the size you were with the twins!

Aude, you might be my mate but you are not a midwife!

I've got my Brownie First Aid badge!

That's enough, thank you, ladies.

I'm not kidding, Sister.

When Glenys was having the demon duo,

she was like the ruddy Hindenburg.

What, you mean on fire?

No. Just massive.

Oh.

Ah, it used to hurt me,

somewhere pushed inside where I couldn't let it show.

Well, cos she was my friend and I was, I was glad for her,

but me and my Derek, we'd been married five years and nothing.

Well, nothing until now.

I've enjoyed every minute of it.

It's been so nice being able to share things.

The Lady Emily is one of the smartest clinics in London.

Their garden parties are in Tatler.

If you don't want to be involved with this proposal,

there are others I could ask.

When did I say I didn't want to be involved with it?

It might be the thing that saves Nonnatus House!

You will work there for six weeks.

Mr Scarisbrick and I both feel this would give ample time for you

to examine the day-to-day running of the Lady Emily

and for all involved to plan the way ahead.

I think I would be in dereliction of my duty if I didn't go.

I've never heard anything like it!

Religious Sisters have been involved in private practice

since time immemorial.

Well, not these Sisters.

Shelagh, did you know about this?

No, I did not know about this, and I'm as startled as you,

but if the people of Poplar are to get what they deserve,

we have to be inventive.

We shouldn't have to be inventive.

The National Health should be able to keep its promise

of protecting people from the cradle to the grave!

We do keep that promise and we will.

If the powers that be

don't make that easy, it's not our fault or Sister Julienne's.

Nurse Anderson!

What's that you have there?

Mrs Wallace made me some chicken, rice and peas.

Did she have any news on finding a new home for the church?

She'd been all the way to Whitechapel in a special hat.

Lord, was it a special hat!

The sort of hat that say,

"I used to be a bank manager's secretary in Kingston"?

Oh, yes.

But the minute she arrived,

the landlords realised what kind of church she came from,

and it turned out the building was already rented.

Was it in Isaiah that the Lord promised

everybody would sit under their own vine and fig tree?

It was Zechariah and Micah. And the First Book Of Kings.

So it's definitely going to happen, then.

Right now, I don't care about having my own vine and fig tree,

so much as my own roof and bed.

My rooming house has been condemned.

They put the notice up this morning.

There is an empty flat above the Buckle paper shop.

You could try that.

Dr Turner, could you take a look at Enid Chu before you go?

She has a slight temperature.

I think she needs to stay another night with us.

Of course.

There will be no charge.

A state of affairs I hope will never have to change.

Patrick, I don't believe that was called for.

That was the first cross word

I've had with her in almost 20 years.

I hope it's going to be the last!

I'm sorry.

But I just struggle to see who this is going to benefit.

This Lady Emily clinic must have money to burn -

sending a frock round in a taxi cab!

It's not a frock, Phyllis, it's my new uniform!

Mr Scarisbrick's sister was a couture model for Balenciaga.

I believe he drew on her expertise when designing for his staff.

It's got too many frills and falderals, it's too form-fitting

and, according to this label, it's "professional laundering only"!

Oh, how the other half live!

Nonnatus House, midwife speaking.

I think I'm in labour. And my Derek, he's gone up West

to his National Service reunion!

Oi!

Private Fleming!

Evening, Corporal Delamore!

And what, may I ask, are you doing loitering in a public place

and with no alcohol in your possession?

A, I'm waiting for you, Corporal D, and B...

...I'm not guilty of the second charge.

Wahey! Brahms and Liszt and all their mates await us,

but, come on, we can save all the backslapping for later

till I get this cine gear down.

Knock, knock.

I'm heading out to a delivery, Sister Monica Joan.

Have you got your black veil to hand for compline?

I may say the office alone, from my breviary...

...as I was won't to do when I was not in my dotage...

...but in my prime...

...and called away to work, as you are.

I need you to pray on my behalf, Sister...

...otherwise it's just Sister Julienne and Sister Hilda

praying for everyone, and I think that's spreading things a bit thin.

I cannot concern myself with such matters.

The officer in Softly Softly appears to be involved in an altercation.

You might increase the volume before you depart.

If you have anything to say, I suggest you'd better say it,

because when I come back... For the hundredth time, I'm telling you...

Catch it, catch it, catch it, catch it, catch it!

Before you look askance,

I'm not going to say anything negative about our planned expansion

into the world of silver trays and lacy pillowslips.

- I'm glad to hear it. - What I am going to say is this.

If the staff nurses at the Lady Emily

all look as dainty, pink and white as a posy of carnations,

I really don't think the Order can go there dressed

in medieval hand-me-downs!

I don't disagree.

I've got the number 43 in mine,

which means it was previously worn by Sister Ermengarde,

and she died of old age before the Second World War.

Exactly!

You... you aren't arguing with me?

No. The Roman Catholic Orders have been modernising for some time now.

I don't see any reason why we shouldn't at least explore

the possibilities of a refreshed and revised habit.

What about Mother Mildred?

We'll deal with Mother Mildred in due course.

The pains are slowing down, aren't they?

They've tapered off completely over the past couple of hours,

and your cervix hasn't dilated yet.

Oh! I feel such a fool.

Dragging you out in the dark, getting my layette lined up.

Everything's on the brink of moving, Audrey.

But with a first baby, things take time.

Someone's left a bike outside the house!

Derek! What do you think you're doing with the Sister's bike?

Well, someone will nick it out there.

It's a Nonnatus bike! Nobody ever steals them!

And whose coat have you got on?

Oh, somebody a lot taller than me, it would appear.

- Are you having the baby? - No, I am not!

Go to bed, Audrey. You need your rest.

Your husband can sleep down here tonight.

'Ey!

I can see the pram from here.

That makes me happy.

You've got your own khazi.

All refinements being offered.

The hot-water heater in the bathroom takes shillings,

the gas is shillings and the electric's pennies.

Basically, you've got more slot machines than Southend Pier.

You are representing us. You don't have to speak for us.

Simply refer any questions to me.

Hmm.

It's perfect, Fred.

But I can't afford it.

Oh, well, I'm sure we can knock a bit off.

Violet's a bit unbending, but she's got a soft spot for you.

No. I'm sorry.

I thought the price was monthly, not weekly.

That was my mistake, and all the generosity in the world

won't bring the price down far enough.

Well...

...it's just standing empty, Cyril.

The right tenant will come along -

someone who can pay what it's worth

and help you put a bit away for your old age.

This is your business, Fred.

Me...

...I'm still working my way.

I've no sympathy with you, Derek.

Your stomach's bad enough

in a general way, without you necking back the pale ale.

I just brought up a load of blood.

Nurse Franklin...

...clearly as punctual as you are ornamental.

I think we'll promote you to Sister while you're here.

Sister sounds more senior,

and it'll make my patients feel so confident.

One would hope they were feeling confident already, Mr Scarisbrick.

Birth is a natural process, after all.

And therein lies a world of horror, hope and pain.

But I have two guiding principles I hold above all others.

One, no-one should do penance for being a woman.

And two, I never examine anyone with cold hands.

It's a hot-water bottle, Sister.

If you'd be the most kind and considerate of angels

and make sure it is always topped up and handy.

Do you think you could make your way to St Cuthbert's, Mr Fleming?

This morning.

If it's an emergency, he needs an ambulance.

It's not an emergency,

but I'd like you to see a specialist in case you have an ulcer.

They still haven't found the World Cup.

"Police continue to comb London for the Jules Rimet Trophy,

"stolen from its display case at Westminster on Sunday."

Hmm.

What I don't understand is, if they don't find it,

can there actually be a World Cup?

I hope so.

Our Chambers has already bought a block of tickets for the finals.

Hmm, Brazil versus Mexico, then!

Mrs Fiona Aylward? The doctor's ready for you now.

Will you be joining us, sir?

In the consulting room? Er, gosh, no.

Er, Mr Scarisbrick usually comes

and exchanges pleasantries afterwards, once you're done.

Of course.

Mrs Aylward!

Looking absolutely radiant, if I may say so,

and in another very elegant ensemble.

I do hope you paid heed to my views last time

and resigned that unhelpful job!

I handed in my notice to huge relief all round.

They bought me a bouquet the size of the Oval.

Advertising and motherhood were simply never going to mix.

Once I started to show,

the other account managers kept me in a backroom,

like the mad aunt from a Gothic novel!

Sister Franklin will help you get comfy,

and then we'll see how the little stranger is getting along.

I shall be revealing all three new designs at a very select

soiree at Nonnatus House.

I saw a nun at the bus stop the last time I went up to Letchworth

and she was in a very neat dove-grey two-piece.

I think it was Courtelle.

I'd put money on that being drip-dry.

Be still, my heart!

Once through a hot wash and back on by morning!

Would, erm, a cowl neck be pushing the boundaries?

I think it would, as a matter of fact.

Oh, Derek, I never thought they'd keep you in!

I'm down for a barium meal in the morning.

If it is an ulcer, they'll give me anti-acids or something.

Antacids, I think they're called.

'Ey, I've been promised rice pudding if I behave.

Won't be as nice as yours, though.

Or come in such lovely tins.

Now, I promise you, Sister Frances, you will not be showing your knees!

I will when I'm riding my bike.

All that upping and downing on the pedals.

I hate showing my knees.

It's one of the reasons I became a nun.

Prototype number one - the pinafore dress. What do you think?

It's a bit short. Can see her knees.

I'm on my way to Audrey Fleming.

She's gone into labour with her husband still in hospital.

I'd like there to be two of us.

Mr Scarisbrick said he's admitted you.

I'm anaemic, apparently,

and must be brought iron pills on a silver salver!

I imagine those are they.

There's no harm in resting,

but, to be quite honest, you could take these at home.

Hmm. Might also stand an outside chance

of wearing a comfortable nightdress.

Matthew dropped off my case and then dashed off to a meeting.

When I opened it I realised...

...he'd packed it himself.

It's full of black scratchy things that I took on honeymoon.

- Fond memories, perhaps. - Ooh!

This soap has a lovely perfume. Has somebody been treating you?

Derek.

It's what I used to use when we first started courting,

just before his National Service.

When he was in the South Seas,

he used to keep a wrapper in his wallet,

so he could smell it and think of me.

I think that's one of the nicest things I've ever heard.

Do you think he knows? Do you think they've got the message to him yet?

I spoke to the ward sister personally.

She assured me that he'd be kept informed.

Breathe. Breathe.

Oh, you like peas. Oh, you like peas, OK.

Oh, no, no, no. No, no, no. No, Sooty! No, I don't want any more...

Agh!

Whoops!

Um, can I have some more, er, sausage, please, Sweep, yeah?

- Yeah? - For God's sake, Phil.

Will you just eat your ruddy dinner and then help me bath the twins?

I reckon we're gonna have to call Nonnatus House.

- What, now? - No.

When we've put the kids to bed.

Nonnatus House, midwife speaking.

Has she had it yet?

- Derek, what are you doing here? - You're supposed to be in hospital.

I ran away. Well, I ran home.

We've no objection to you being here to support your wife, Mr Fleming,

but you are not coming one step nearer to her bedside

unless you put on a gown and gloves.

I don't want him in here! Not until we're done.

And I'm washed and tidy, and the baby's bathed and perfect.

I want it to be like the films.

Audrey, please.

The next bit's not gonna be like the films, Mr Fleming.

Why have they sent for you?

There's two of them up there already!

I'm actually going next door.

There seems to be something of a street party.

I made the bed.

Er, newspaper and the rubber sheet

- and, er, the actual sheet. - Thank you.

Glenys, when you're ready, we'll go upstairs and get settled in.

Oh, I'm feeling it in my back passage.

No, I'll never make it up the stairs!

Pant, Glenys, pant.

Do not push until I've examined you.

- What shall I do? - Go outside.

Hey.

Got a light, mate?

You're fully dilated now, Glenys,

and you can push as hard as you like on the next pain.

- Oh, am I going to have it here? - Yes, you are.

Oh, I can see Rice Krispies on the lino.

That's it, that's it. Good girl.

Baby's head is resting in my hand, Audrey.

Is it? Is it?

- Is it? - Well done.

That's it! That's it!

You have a little girl!

Ohh!

As long as it's just the one!

You are magnificent, Audrey.

Keep it up, precious. Keep it up and...

Congratulations!

You have a...

...a son.

Oh! Oh, God, I've been dreaming about hearing that for months!

Come on, sleepyhead!

You have a mummy waiting to meet you.

We need Dr Turner.

- Boy or a girl? - Stay there!

He's got... he's got no legs, Mrs Turner.

Just stumps.

Doctor will be there within 15 minutes.

He will bring oxygen

for the baby and decide the next steps.

Well, what... what can I do?

Remember that you are a midwife and a nurse.

For as long as you're in that room,

your training will give you all the tools you need.

Thank you. Thank you, Mrs Turner. That's very good advice. Thank you.

I know what you're thinking.

You don't have to say it out loud.

Yes, I do.

What if it's thalidomide again?

I want to hold him.

I haven't held him yet.

Can't you get an ambulance? Get him to a hospital?

He's too weak.

Let them hold him now.

Pass me that shawl.

See how beautiful he is?

His little eyebrows.

That nose. Where did he get that nose?

Why isn't he breathing?

He can't die.

Audrey, precious...

...Baby is at peace now.

And Baby isn't in pain.

I wanted him called Christopher.

We said we'd call him Christopher.

Tell me what I can do.

We can't leave her.

And she won't let us take the child.

I would say, "Just be here,"

but I know you don't have to be asked...

...and you can't put a price on that.

The cooler we keep the baby,

the longer he can stay with his parents.

I could hear her screaming.

You can hear everything through these walls.

May I take both of them?

You can take anything you want.

Thank you.

Patrick, babies are born with limb anomalies for other reasons.

What if Audrey had Distaval in the back of a drawer somewhere?

Or... or had a cough and took a dose of linctus

from a bottle she'd almost forgotten she'd had?

There are no suspect medications on her notes at all.

I promise you.

The baby's father has been on our books for five years,

ever since his discharge from the Army.

You have prescribed nothing of any potential relevance.

It isn't just me who wants answers.

The baby's parents will want them too.

I thought he was crying.

It's Glenys's baby next door.

She had a little girl.

Oh, good morning, Sister.

You're being very diligent with your exercise.

My physiotherapist insists on it.

And it goes against the grain for me to disappoint a child.

I know Miss Jones looks very young, but she is highly qualified.

Did you hear we had a neo-natal death last night?

It is a less frequent occurrence now...

...than it was in times gone by.

I've sent Nurse Anderson back with ice packs,

and Sister Frances upstairs to catch up on her sleep.

She coped well enough, but she's very upset.

I wondered if you might be able to take her to one side

and pass some of your wisdom on.

I can speak to her, midwife to midwife, but...

...you could suggest a prayer, perhaps,

or something from the Scriptures?

You approach me as a physician of the soul...

...but I have no panacea to offer.

Mr Scarisbrick, you're always trying to think of things

that might appeal to your clientele.

And you also do your very best for them as patients,

but sometimes, and please don't think I'm being impertinent,

you forget to ask yourself what they might actually want, as women.

As women?

You charm them.

You nurture them, and they do trust you.

The trouble is, they don't trust themselves.

You think they trust the nuns more?

They trust midwives more, but you scarcely let your midwives in.

It doesn't matter if we're dressed as nuns, nurses or can-can dancers,

we can have an intimate relationship with them.

We can help them to help themselves.

So, who do you want to help the most?

Well, I've become quite interested in Fiona Aylward.

She's a very intelligent woman, but quite sensitive...

She's all yours.

- All mine? - Manage the whole labour.

One way or another, we're all going to learn something.

An antacid prescription should be perfectly straightforward.

I'll find out what your consultant had planned.

Have you had anything to eat, Derek?

What are we going to do about the pram?

I'll put it in the yard for now...

...where Audrey doesn't have to look at it.

And before I leave, I'll do you a round of toast.

An empty stomach does an ulcer no good.

I keep thinking Glenys will come, but she doesn't.

I'm sure she will, as soon as she is able.

Sister Julienne, the water's ready.

I'll always want to know why it happened.

Always.

Precious, you may never know.

We may never know.

I can live with not knowing.

I can't live with not loving.

I'll love everything that he is for ever.

Please don't hide him from me, not even his little legs.

Will you wash him with this?

"Coconut sandwich, date and walnut loaf, fruit scones with butter,

"plain scones with jam, rum baba,

"swiss roll, macaroons"!

Is this the refreshment menu for the mannequin parade?

No. It's all the varieties of cake that Sister Monica Joan has refused

in the last six weeks.

I've taken to making notes.

It does sound as though there's something clinically wrong.

She hasn't even interfered with the new habits.

I could have done with her support over these short veils.

They're like miniskirts for the face.

Well, once upon a time she'd have had her finger in every buttonhole

and bust dart.

I shall have a word with Fred and see if he can get her out

and gardening again.

Maybe it will help her just to watch things grow.

We're ready now, aren't we, Derek?

He smells beautiful.

He smells like you.

What's all this? You're a bit early for penny-for-the-guy.

Sister Julienne said you were following on behind her.

She rides a bike faster than you do.

I took a detour to the newsagent in Litton Street

to see if they had any bedsits in their window.

I looked there this morning.

Sufficient unto the day.

You come on inside now.

♪ Don't laugh at me cos I'm a fool... ♪

Hello, Bobby.

Is it Bobby, or is it...?

Look.

Norman Wisdom! Brought your coat back.

Dez, you know he had no legs, your little lad?

Christopher.

Christopher.

Don't mean he was any less beautiful or any less yours.

Thanks.

I ain't saying it to be kind, I'm saying it cos I know.

My little Tracey came out missing three fingers.

This one, this one, this one

like they'd been snipped off with scissors.

Is she all right?

Yeah, it's like she don't even know.

Me and the missus,

we joke that she must have been made on a Friday afternoon.

Come off the assembly line not quite right.

I wish you'd had our luck, Derek.

I wish that's all it was for you.

Good morning, Mr Scarisbrick.

What are you doing in here? I rather think you're needed in Room 4.

Doctor...

...have you ever heard of, erm,

stomach ulcers being caused by food poisoning?

Food poisoning?

When we were on operations in the South Pacific,

me and my mates all came down

with it after eating a load of dodgy fish.

Throwing up like dogs, we were.

Most of us, we bounced back,

but some of us have had gippy stomachs ever since.

Some of you? You mean your comrades?

Yeah, I mean, my mate Bobby, he gets shocking heartburn still.

And he ate the fish?

Yeah.

Well, he caught half of them, but his, erm...

...his daughter, she was, erm,

she was born with some of her fingers missing.

And I wonder whether that had something to do with it.

Maybe the fish had mercury in it, or something, I...

...I don't know.

Whereabouts in the South Seas were you?

It was a place called Christmas Island.

The manoeuvre was called Operation Grapple.

It was to do with the nuclear bomb.

I didn't believe you when you said there'd be a pattern to them.

Every time I think I get to the point

where I can't stand any more pain, it subsides.

Oh, I thought it would be harder!

Labour is never easy, Fiona,

but it really can be very simple.

Dr Turner, this is most irregular!

Yes, Miss Higgins, I suspect it is.

Ah! Derek Percy Fleming.

Born March 2nd 1938.

Put it down!

Down! Now!

And then tell me what you would like me to do with Mr Fleming's records.

Ring the Ministry of Defence

and ask for access to Derek Fleming's Army medical records.

And, in the meantime, see if we can establish

whether there is any other young man on our books

who was involved in Operation Grapple.

Mr Aylward?

I haven't even started smoking yet.

It isn't obligatory, but I have brought you a gown.

Thanks.

My... my father promised me a box of Cuban Havanas for afterwards,

but the fact of the matter is, I hardly smoke at all,

unless of course it's at a social event,

where people are watching and it's expected.

Sorry, what is this for?

Fiona's asking for you.

I have just spoken very firmly to the Ministry of Defence.

I had to make three calls

and hold the line for a total of 47 minutes,

after which I was informed that they were not able to forward

Derek Fleming's medical records for the years 1958 and 1959,

because, and I quote, "They are marked confidential."

But the MOD have always sent us National Service records on request.

It's just a formality.

Exactly so.

Now, between calls, I also established that a Terence Wylie,

born in July 1939, seemed to have served in the South Pacific.

There were notes relating to malaria treatment

after he returned home via Hong Kong.

- Terence Wylie? - Yes.

He was referred to the Royal Marsden

last autumn after developing leukaemia.

Can we contact him?

I'm afraid he died.

And when I asked the Ministry for his records,

they said that they were missing.

With this next pain, I want you to push, push, push into your bottom

with all the strength you have!

I'm tired.

Come on, listen to the midwife!

I am listening!

That's it, that's it, that's it!

That's it, that's it, that's it!

- It's all right. - Bit of mischief with the cord.

Well done, well done.

You have a lovely little boy.

Do you want me to take over?

No, I've got a system going now.

Oh, a person could go mad and blind

trying to skim-read every letters column in the Lancet.

Maybe it wasn't even the Lancet.

Maybe it was the British Medical Journal.

But I definitely read something, somewhere,

about deformed babies being born

to mothers who lived in the testing zone.

But nothing about babies fathered by soldiers who were there?

Not that I can recall.

And nothing about effects on the soldiers either.

They didn't have food poisoning. They had radiation sickness.

Audrey, precious, it's too soon for you to be going out.

It's a big day.

We're gonna register Christopher's birth and his death.

He's gonna get certificates, like he would have got at school.

And we're doing it together.

Sometimes you hang on, sometimes you let go.

Today, we're gonna do both those things.

I'm sorry, but I'm coming with you.

Oh, there you are!

I thought you were still in the telephone room.

One of the nannies said I could look at him.

You can do more than just look at him. You can hold him, if you like.

No, she said I mustn't, he'd just been bathed and changed.

- Support his head. - Oh.

Gosh.

Gosh.

That's not really quite adequate, is it?

I'm reliably informed there's no feeling quite like it -

meeting one's own child for the first time.

No.

You know, it is quite like something else.

Have you ever been on a blind date?

That may have come within the realm of my experience.

I met Fiona on a blind date.

We were set up by my cousin,

who thought I was looking rudderless and, I quote, "a bit unkempt".

I had a haircut and bought a new tie.

When I walked into the restaurant and saw Fiona...

...I looked at her face...

...and all I could think was that suddenly everything was possible,

and everything was.

When I look down at this face, this new person..

...and I think to myself,

"I am on a blind date for the rest of my days."

Well, don't cross over, Glenys.

Look, pretending this hasn't happened won't take my

pain away... or yours.

I know you're sorry, Glenys, for me and for walking past.

I... I didn't know what to do.

Show me your baby.

- Is it just the one? - Yeah.

We've called her Janine.

I'll come and see you properly soon, Janine.

We'd like that.

Good grief.

Hmm. Photographs and cine film,

it was all a new hobby for me back then.

We weren't supposed to take pictures of anything.

How did you get all this back to England?

I worked in the post room on the main camp.

A lot of them weren't like this - they were of the local wildlife.

Local wildlife and dancing girls.

I didn't bring any of them here.

How close were you to the explosion of the test bomb?

I was on the shore.

The mushroom hung in the air 40 minutes, nearly an hour,

just like you see on those newsreels of Hiroshima.

I got loads of shots.

Derek - he was on the deck of a ship a lot nearer.

Those men, they had to sit with their backs to the horizon,

cover their faces with their hands.

Derek said he could see all his finger bones

glowing through his hand, like they was burning.

Mrs Wallace?

Nobody calls me Mrs Wallace here!

Once I'm in this overall, I'm just Gertrude.

And I keep me hats for church and for church-related business.

Mrs Wallace, this is church business.

I have had an idea, which has become more of a proposition,

but it requires your approval and your help.

Audrey, what happened?

Derek's had an 'aemorrhage.

He vomited so much blood!

There were pints and pints of it all over the floor!

Come, come, come, come.

The parlour is of an exceedingly appropriate size,

the kitchen is adequate,

and the bathroom facilities are most acceptable.

Well, that's why the rent is set as it is.

The church will be paying the rent.

Two extremely important matters need to be made plain.

We will require your assistance to get the piano up the stairs.

And our pastor, Mr Robinson, will be living on the premises.

Ladies, you can do whatever you like.

MUSIC: I'm Still Waiting by Bob Marley & The Wailers

♪ I said-a my feet won't keep me up any more... ♪

Church has a home and so do I.

♪ Well, every little beat my heart beats, girl... ♪

I came to this country as a civil engineer

and I've yet to build a road or a bridge or a tower block.

It just seems I've been called to construct something else.

♪ So why won't you come out to me now, girl

♪ Oh, can't you see I'm under your spell

♪ But I got to, got to go

♪ Why, girl?

♪ Oh why, girl? Oh

♪ Oh, my gosh... ♪

Greetings, Mr Robinson.

We got six strong men to bring the piano up,

and we bought you some ornaments.

What does that say?

That Derek has had a partial gastrectomy.

It means that they've surgically removed some of his stomach.

I'm learning new words all the time.

- I'm not supposed to have these, am I? - No.

And there are notes and records I should have,

that Derek himself should have access to,

that simply seem to have vaporised.

Gone up in a puff of smoke, in other words.

What do you think that's all about?

I think that the soldiers on Operation Grapple

were exposed to radiation.

And it's highly likely that they and their children

suffered damage as a consequence.

Hmm. Will anybody help us?

I don't know if anyone will accept that harm was done.

Well, Derek said it best.

"Sometimes you hang on and sometimes you let go."

And when he comes out, when he's feeling better,

- we're both gonna hang onto this. - Good.

We're not gonna let it go, we're not gonna let it pass.

There's nothing else we can do for Christopher.

Sister Monica Joan,

I went to a lot of trouble fixing a short handle on that hoe,

especially so you could garden sitting down.

And Nurse Crane has knitted you those lovely gloves.

And you ain't even trying.

I am returning to my room.

Or, as monastic parlance would have it, to my cell.

Well, I ain't helping you back indoors,

because going back into hiding is not going to help you.

All this misery, it's about more than just a broken leg, isn't it?

It is not my body that has failed.

It is my faith.

I perhaps took too much pride in my powers of concealment.

Religious vows are not called "taking the veil"

merely because of our attire.

We are trained to hide so many things from others.

Fear, loneliness...

...doubt.

The less we speak of our faults to others,

the louder they roar in our own ears.

Our flaws are a work in progress,

between ourselves...

...and God.

He's never let you down, though, has he?

It always looked to me as if you and him are right old pals.

You seek to simplify the matter.

Well, I could try and complicate it.

But I don't think it would help.

In the religious life, we speak of an extended period of doubt...

...as a dark night of the soul.

There is no light anywhere.

And the very act of seeking it,

of seeking him...

...only emphasises the void.

You are to tell no-one.

Only God can help me.

And if he does not exist...

...then my life has been wasted.

It's an absolute N-O from Sister Monica Joan.

I stood at her bedroom doorway, pleading,

but now the guests are starting to arrive.

Well, somebody's got to wear the two-piece, Sister Hilda!

I'm wearing the pinafore dress! I can't come back in another outfit,

people will think I'm enjoying myself.

Well, don't look at me, I'm the compere.

Thank you, Sister Frances.

And now we have Sister Hilda...

...wearing an elegantly streamlined shift

in saxe-blue Courtelle.

With a white rollneck collar.

With a white rollneck collar

and detachable cuffs for formal wear.

Thank you, Sister Hilda.

Bringing our trio of modes to a close,

we have able assistance from...

Nonnatus House was far from doomed.

Instead, it was changing,

keeping pace with the dance of time itself.

Smile for Mother Mildred. That's it.

The spring of 1966 was full of new beginnings.

Some were as evident as daffodils in sunshine,

others barely stirred beneath the earth.

They would be revealed when their season came.

Nonnatus would not give less or strive less.

And it would not falter, as it tried to find its way,

because those who lived and worked there knew what it was to love

and why love mattered.

Love was all, regardless of its source.

With love, all things were possible.

Only without it could anyone be lost.

I'm giving the baby up for adoption, Sister.

I'm under orders, and honour bound, to report back everything

I learn about the Lady Emily to Sister Julienne. You know that.

Fred Buckle!

She only came in with a fever. What have you done to her?

And now we have to find another way ahead,

or Nonnatus House will not be serving anyone.