All language subtitles for Call.the.Midwife.S09E01.Episode.1.1080p.AMZN.WEB-DL.DD+2.0.H.264-Cinefeel_track3_[eng]

(GROANING)

- That's it.
- (CRASHING OUTSIDE)

That's it!

(CRASHING)

Flaming wrecking ball's
been going all afternoon!

Just rest for a moment.

The family downstairs have sent
more candles, as well as hot water.

You have good neighbours.

Shame there's hardly
any of them left.

(GASPS)

Use all of your strength now, Nola.

Use all of it.

(GROANS)

- All of it!
- (GROANS)

(BABY CRIES)

MATURE JENNIFER: Where do we begin?

What marks the start of any new adventure?

Aren't you the clever one?

You've brought a whole new life
into the world!

Is it the first step?

The deep breath?

(BIKE BELL PINGS)

The single leap of faith?

And what do we leave behind us
when the future calls?

Right, that's it!

No ifs, no buts.

I'm going to take the plunge
with my new electric lady shaver.

Are you sure you know
what you're doing, Trixie?

You could take your whole shin off
if you're not careful.

Even a modest risk to life and limb

is better than blonde hair
poking through one's hosiery.

I sometimes wonder
how we afford hosiery at all!

Tights cost even more
than stockings,

not to mention they ladder
as soon as you look at them.

Maybe we should just wear wool,
like we did in the Outer Hebrides.

Valerie! It's not like you
to be so defeatist.

(SHAVER BUZZES)

Another placenta for disposal,

neatly wrapped up in the Racing Post!

Once, we simply burned them
in the bedroom fireplace,

or sent them down to the allotments
as tomato food.

RADIO: We interrupt the current broadcast
with an important announcement.

Sir Winston Churchill, Britain's
Prime Minister during World War II,

has died at his home in London's
Hyde Park Gate at the age of 90.

Poor old soul!

Sir Winston suffered a stroke
nine days ago.

The announcement was made
this morning

by Sir Winston's physician,
Lord Moran.

Did you hear that, Nurse Crane?

Her Majesty The Queen and

- the Prime Minister have been informed.
- Old Winnie!

He's finally pegged it!

Couldn't go on beating the odds for ever!

And now the shipping forecast...

PATRICK: It's what came after the war
that really changed society,

and the National Health Service
was nothing to do with Churchill

or his political party.

Patrick, I think we should leave
politics out of it today.

The man has left a widow
and ten grandchildren!

There's a carrot here for Flopsy.

Nothing for poor old Genevieve?

We can't send Flopsy back
to the girls' classroom

looking anything other than
supremely groomed

and well nourished, or they won't be
allowed to bring her home again.

- (PHONE RINGS)
- Ooh!

- Hello, Tim?
- Hi, Dad.

Listen, the headmaster's cut all
our calls home down to three minutes

because we've got to have some
special assembly for Winston Churchill.

I think that's very appropriate.

- Did you get the cake?
- Quick, children!

- Your brother's on the phone!
- I sent you a Dundee so it would last.

It lasted about five minutes.

Boys in boarding school get very hungry.

- But I came top in that biology test.
- PATRICK: Come on, May!

- Genevieve!
- Say well done to your brother, children.

Well done, Timothy.

(ALL LAUGH)

I've no objection to the old warhorse
getting a full state funeral,

but if we all go traipsing off
to watch the cortege passing by,

what's going to happen to our patients?

That was the warden from the
homeless shelter in Rakesby Street.

There's a lady in labour.

She isn't on our books,
but things seem to be moving quickly.

We'll hop in my car and go together.

I've heard unsavoury tales
about that place.

Bed bugs.

In the walls.
You can actually hear them.

I've been laying on my back
like a tipped-over tortoise.

I'm scared to move
in case it speeds things up.

Don't you worry now. We'll soon see
how fast you're getting on.

And who's this young man sitting
so politely behind the clothes horse?

It's my Terry. He don't like missing
school, but he wants to look after me.

We'll take care of your mother now,
Terry.

You get yourself off to your lessons.

- Can I?
- You heard the nurse.

Stopping here ain't going to get you
through the eleven-plus

and into grammar school, is it?

No.

Capital of Rhodesia?

Salisbury!

- Closest planet to the Earth?
- Venus!

I bought us a Pears' Cyclopaedia

down the market,
and we go through it every night.

(SHUTTER CLICKS)

(DOOR BELL RINGS)

Good morning.

What year was this place built?

1860, I believe.
May I ask what you're doing?

Council survey. Slum clearance.

Are we going inside?

No need.
They'll be taking it down soon.

(SIGHS)

- (BELL RINGS)
- In you go, one by one.

Come along, Terry. You're late.

I think we can safely say
it was a false alarm,

- and you've weathered it.
- (EXHALES)

But you're registered with us
as of today.

Next time you sense
things are on the move,

we're ready and waiting to help you.

Have you any plans
for moving on from here?

Oh, we've been on the list
for a council flat for seven months.

You see 'em being built
all over the place, but I swear to God,

I don't know how anyone
ever gets to live in 'em.

Seven months!

Seven months living in squalor like that.

(PHONE RINGS)

Can't you book her
into the maternity home

for a square meal,
a bath and bed rest?

That was my first thought.

But she's no-one
to leave the little lad with,

and he'll end up in foster care.

- The Housing Officer's on the phone.
- Hmm...

Yes?

The reference is Mrs Dena Bowland
and her son, Terence.

Address - Homeless Unit,
Rakesby Street, Poplar.

An appalling, insanitary facility

over which I imagine you yourself
might claim some sort of jurisdiction?

Whatever are you doing?

Lunch hour's almost over!

My mother will be looking out for me
on the newsreels of the funeral.

I don't want her to think
I'm looking tired and puffy.

Well, while you two have been busy

preparing yourselves
for the spotlight of history,

I've found the perfect solution
to our mutual hosiery dilemma!

(CLEARS HER THROAT)

"How perfect are your pins?

"You can win a year's supply
of Slender Legs tights by sending us

"a snap of your gorgeous gams.

"Individual and group categories.
Free to enter!"

Well, you're the one who's been working
overtime with the Ladyshave.

I would've thought
you're a shoo-in for first prize.

Hmm!

And I'm not sending pictures
into any magazine, so don't ask me.

Lucille, your ankles are exquisite!

Cyril positively gazes at them!

It isn't an ankle competition.
It's a leg competition.

And legs go all the way up
to other parts of the anatomy.

We've all got biology O level, Lucille.

And we would be in
with a chance of free tights.

Thank you, Valerie.

I'm glad to see somebody's exhibiting
a sense of fun.

(RECEIVER CLATTERS)

One lady due to give birth
moved right up the waiting list

and offered the keys to a flat!

(BOTH LAUGH)

May you be garlanded with laurels!

Oh, Fred! I thought
you were getting the tea ready!

I'll be late for the pest control
sub-committee meeting.

I'm just sorting out my medals
for the big fella's sendoff.

I haven't decided what hat to wear yet.
Probably my artificial beaver,

because we shall be stood on that street
for nigh on seven hours!

It's funny what people take with them
when they go.

And what they bring back.

That's a lovely picture of Betty.
A lovely smile.

FRED: Teeth like that
were a rarity round here.

Bloody Blitz.

I've been thinking about my Bert, too.

But we've got to think
about what we've got now, Fred.

Life is better than it's ever been.

For everyone.

Let me rub my steam iron
over these ribbons.

(BELL CHIMES)

Lucille, if your principles,
which I respect,

prevent you from participating
as an individual, why don't you enter

the Wonderful Legs In The Workplace
section with Valerie and I?

What does that entail?

Just us three, posing in our uniforms,
flying the flag

for smart professional ladies
who need free tights.

It's about esprit de corps, Lucille.

Taking pride in who we are
and what we stand for.

Like today!

I'll do it to please you.

Just don't try to persuade me
that it's patriotic.

TV: It's time to see
the long procession...

Ooh!

- Three, two, one!
- (CAMERA SHUTTER CLICKS)

That's it! What's next?

Cheese!

That one's nice.

No...

SISTER FRANCES: The power's gone off.

(RATTLING)

All right, Sister.
Try flicking the switch again.

(CHEERS)

Goodnight.

(BABY CRIES)

(BABY CRIES)

Oh!

Oh, no!

Oh, no, no, no!

It's all right, little one. I've got you.

- (CRIES)
- I've got you!

Her temperature's improved.

And I think she has been fed
not long before she was abandoned.

She vomited quite a bit of milk.

Looking at the cord,
she's more than 24 hours old.

Although I don't know
what it was tied with.

Looks like purple sewing thread.

Not a hospital delivery,
and not done by a professional either.

I feel as sorry for the mother
as I do for the child.

(KNOCK ON DOOR)

Sergeant Woolf's here.

Here we go.

- Come on.
- (CRIES)

A little bit higher.

Every London hospital has been asked
to be on the alert for anyone

arriving in casualty
with post-birth complications

and no appropriate referral.

I don't want anything going into the press

that would make the mother too scared
to seek help if she needs it.

Dr Turner wants her to go
to St Cuthbert's,

in case she picked up an infection
from lying in the bin.

Oh...

Poor little scrap.

Can I...hold her?

(CRIES)

I told them I wanted to give her a name
before she goes.

Sergeant Woolf said I could.

But then I...couldn't think of anything.

How about Primrose?

They're little flowers
that turn up in the cold.

We will have to ensure a Scotch egg
is despatched to Sister Frances.

I offered to go and relieve her,
but she's adamant -

she's staying with the baby
until they take her to St Cuthbert's.

I imagine she's become
emotionally involved.

It happened all the time with people
stumbling across babies in Hong Kong.

Abandonment's very rare in Poplar.

It's only the second case
I've ever heard of.

Once, infants such as these
would not even have been found alive.

Mudlarks would recover them,

naked and dead
on the shoreline of the river.

(DOORBELL RINGS)

I'll go.

Maybe times have improved.

No matter how poor people are,
they always find a way.

The relinquishment of a child
has little to do with poverty

and much to do with desperation.

Oh, sorry, Valerie.
Were you putting your feet up?

No, Maureen. I was having my lunch.

And I'm on my way back from
my cleaning shift at the Black Sail,

- helping Auntie Flo out. Remember her?
- Yes. I do.

Well, that's funny, cos you seem to
have forgotten who your grandma is!

Not to mention where she is!

Holloway?

Why don't you shout a bit louder,

and throw the "abortion" word
in while you're about it?

Ashamed, are you?

Because I'm not.

I went to visit her in prison
yesterday, with Flo,

which is more than you have,
according to her.

She cried like a tap all through my visit
because of you.

Does she blame me, Maureen?

No.

She just misses you.

She kept talking about
when we were all kids,

and how she had us tucked under
that scratchy tartan blanket

down Bethnal Green Tube
in the air raids.

Seems a long time ago now.

Don't it just!

We have to let her go.

We've got to have faith in her future.

How can we have faith in her future?

All we know about her past...

...is that she wasn't wanted.

Will you hurry up in there?

You'll wash that face off
if you carry on scrubbing!

I was doing my teeth again!

Have I got
a Colgate ring of confidence?

Oh, not 'alf!

Ooh, you smell beautiful.

Tomorrow, I've got vouchers
to go down to the charity office

and get us the things we need
for the flat...and for the baby.

We're even in with the chance of a pram.

Mum...

...when the baby's born,
will we be a family?

We're a family now, Terry.

And will it look like me?

No, son.

More like me.

(FOOTSTEPS)

Good evening!

- I'm afraid the surgery's closed.
- I'm sorry.

I just wanted to leave something
for the abandoned baby.

The one they're calling Primrose
in the papers.

That's ever so kind of you.

It's only a matinee jacket.

In yellow, because of her name.

I felt proper sorry for her,
wrapped up in someone's nightie.

I'll make sure it gets sent
to her at St Cuthbert's.

Why's she at St Cuthbert's?

Papers said she was here.

(PHONE RINGS)

Dr Turner's surgery.

I'm sorry.
We're not allowed to talk to journalists.

I'll take it there myself.

You're meant to ring the police up.

I don't want to be rude,
but I'm putting the phone down.

Hello?

Miss?

Hello?

It's not uncommon for cranks
to come forward

in cases like this, Sister Frances.

They can be as disturbed
as the person who abandoned the infant,

yet not have any connection
to the child at all.

This woman was lactating.

I saw the stains on her blouse
with my own eyes.

And she knew that Primrose had been
wrapped in a woman's nightdress.

That detail wasn't in a single newspaper.

If you could spell "lactating" for me,
I'd be obliged.

I'm running a lot of mauves
at the moment

because purple's all the rage -

everything from lavender
through to amethyst.

This colour is very close.

Do you think it might have been
purchased here?

Oh, no. Because it's pure silk!

Absolutely top-notch.

I got something similar in,
in ivory,

when Sister Julienne was mending
the Easter altar cloth,

but that was a special order.

Thank you.

Ooh!

(GROANS)

These sums come up
on the eleven-plus paper every year,

so we're going to work on them
every day this week.

- (KNOCK ON DOOR)
- Sorry to disturb.

I'm just rounding up some stragglers
for the TB testing programme.

A little bird tells me
Sufiyah Ahmad's in this class?

We haven't seen her for a fortnight,
Sister.

I think the family might've moved on.

Oh, well.

Not for the want of trying! Sorry.

Terry!

Pay attention, please!

Ow.

Ow!

Agh!

Ow!

Mum...

Mum...

(GROANS) Do you think it's just
another false alarm?

No, precious.
I think you're six fingers dilated.

But it's not convenient.
I need to get home!

You're staying right where you are.
We'll get a message to Terry.

- How?
- Miss Higgins, the secretary, will help.

(GROANS)

(GASPS)

But Terry needs me to help him
with his homework.

It's time you stopped fretting
about everybody and everything.

The next few hours are just about you
and your baby.

I'll do any fretting that's required.
Do you hear me?

(COUGHS)

Let's get you back up on the bed,
so I can see how you're progressing.

(SPLASHING)

(LUCILLE LAUGHS)

I'm sorry! I'm sorry.

You don't need to be sopping wet,
you've got work to do!

And you're planning
a nice leisurely evening, are you?

(GASPS)

Just move your legs apart for me,
heels up to your bottom.

What's the matter?

Is there something wrong?

Everything is going to be just perfect.

But we need a little change of plan.

(ALARM RINGS)

Did Miss Higgins see Terry?

I want to push!

Not yet, precious. Not yet.

Just pant, Dena.

Mrs Bowland! What a nice surprise.

I was hoping I'd get to see you
on the big day.

How might I be of assistance?

We have a cord prolapse.

Mother is fully dilated
and feeling the urge to push.

What's a prolapse?

It means the cord's been born
in advance of baby.

Best thing we can do
is turn you over

and get you with your knees
up to your chest.

What? No. No, I can't.

I can't!

You're already doing it, Dena.

- (GROANS)
- That's it, lass! That's it.

Now tuck your knees right under.

(GROANS)

It might feel ungainly,
but that's exactly where we want it.

Push, Dena! The harder you push,
the quicker it will come!

And the better that's going to be
for baby!

Ow!

(MOANS)

Mum...

(GASPS)

We want you to keep pushing
and pushing.

We need this baby to be born.

But I thought I was supposed to push
when I had a contraction.

Remember what I said about
I do all the fretting?

I do all the giving orders, too.

Come on.
You grab my hand and do as she says.

Oh. No sound this time.

All that energy, you force it right down,

down through your body
while you push and you push

and you push that baby out.

Keep it coming, keep it coming.

- Keep it coming.
- Agh!

- (BABY CRIES)
- Well done!

(DOORBELL RINGS)

(MOANS)

(CRIES)

Listen to him.
Just listen to him!

He sounds just like my Terry.

(WEAKLY) Mum?

(GASPS)

Terry?!

Terry?

Terry! Open your eyes, dear.

(GASPS)

Terry, I'm fetching help.

You certainly got your reward
for all your hard work.

It was hard.

And it was work.

But it wasn't hard work.

Now open as wide as you can, son.

(COUGHS)

I can't quite believe what
I'm seeing here.

Or maybe I don't want to.

Can you let me have another look?

See that?

That grey membrane
stretching across his throat?

- It's diphtheria.
- Yes.

This day and age?

I'm giving him penicillin now,

then we need to get him to St Cuthbert's
and the isolation ward.

I'll inform the Medical Officer
first thing in the morning.

It's also imperative that everyone
who's been in contact with him is tested.

Every family member.
Every classmate.

I've already swabbed his mother.

She gave birth just hours ago.

Shouldn't Terry have been vaccinated?

He's ten.

It's possible he was, and it's worn off.

But, from his records,
his early life with his mother

was chaotic to say the least.

(TUTS)

We're all meant to be travelling forwards.

Everything's supposed to be improving
all the time.

Diphtheria making a comeback
isn't progress.

It's medieval.

As nursing professionals,
you have a duty to make sure

you are up to date
with all vaccinations and boosters.

Sorry, Nurse Crane.

You need to set a good example
to all your patients,

particularly the mothers.

If you could remember
what I can remember,

you wouldn't have shilly-shallied.

Sleeve up. I haven't got all day.

Ian Halkins, class 4?

Sweetie from the basket
and go straight home.

Teacher has a letter for your mother
about quarantine.

(PHONE RINGS)

Nonnatus House. Midwife speaking.

We've just been called upon
to remove a distressed lady

from St Cuthbert's maternity ward.

She claims to be baby Primrose's mother

but otherwise refuses to give her name
or identify herself in any way.

Have you taken her into custody?

I'd prefer to say she's in our care.

(DOOR UNLOCKS)

Have you brought her?
Have you brought my baby?

Not this time, sweetie.

But the policeman said you were midwives.

We are midwives.

And we're also nurses

and we're your friends.

While we're looking after you,
we'll be whichever of those you need most.

(SOBS)

Ssh.

But I've been holding him.
I've been feeding him.

You tested positive
for diphtheria bacterium.

Until the antibiotics gets to work,
it's wise to keep him in the nursery.

If I can't go to him,
can I go to Terry?

Terry's being very well looked after
in the isolation ward.

(TERRY COUGHS)

What are you trying to say, Terry?

(WHEEZING) Next...week.

What's next week?

The...

...e-eleven-plus.

Oh, good morning, Nurse Crane.

I'm pleased to announce
all recommended precautions are in place.

That's scant consolation
to the mothers expecting to deliver here.

I've a list of nine whose due dates
fall within the next two weeks.

And I have a list
of alternative facilities.

Please, somebody help me
with my niece?

Miss Higgins,
will you please fetch Doctor?

(WHEEZES)

Oh, no. I recognise that smell.

There's a lot we can tell you
about your situation.

You have sustained a small tear,
which will mend on its own.

And your breasts are leaking milk

because your body is weeping
for a reunion with your child.

If, in return, you could tell us
a little about yourself,

even just your name,

it would be so much
the better for all concerned.

I can't tell you.

And why is that?

Because I've done wrong.

And you're a woman of the Church.

I'm not.

Note - red hat, no wimple.

I've some sanitary towels
and some antiseptic in my bag.

The ladies isn't too dreadful,

so I suggest we pop along
and you can have a tidy-up.

Diphtheria?

People die of diphtheria.

Open wide, please.

Any details you can give us
about Carole's work,

who she mixes with in her spare time,
would be so helpful.

A week or so ago, she rang me,
crying, begging for help.

She was living in a homeless shelter
in Rakesby Street.

I don't know about you, Sister Hilda,

but I'm seeing nothing untoward
with the naked eye.

The trouble is, half the people
that were here with Terry Bowland

and Carole Witley have moved on.

Any one of them could've been the source.

Better?

There's nothing worse than
feeling un-fresh

and not having the necessaries with you.

(SNIFFS)

(WHIMPERS)

It's all right, sweetie.

Come on.

You've been so alone in this,
haven't you?

Were you alone
when the baby was born?

I didn't know
how it was going to happen.

I knew it had started.

I knew it would hurt.

I just kept wanting to crouch down,
as if I was an animal.

Did nobody hear you at all?
Did no-one come?

I had my cardigan sleeve in my mouth
to stop me screaming.

I didn't want anyone to know.

And what do you want now?

Her.

You need to help us to help you, sweetie.

Will you help me?

Will you help me
if I tell you my name is Brenda?

Brenda, Primrose is waiting for you.

And the police need your name
and your address.

Brenda Donnelly.

St Genesius' Presbytery, Sarum Street.

I'm the priest's housekeeper.

(BELL CLANGS)

Ah! To what do I owe the pleasure,
Sister?

Mother, Mildred,
of the Order of St Raymond Nonnatus.

Mrs Donnelly has been following
her usual routines.

I had no knowledge of her situation.

- None at all.
- She lives under your roof.

Her accommodation is behind the kitchen.

Meaning that you never go there?

Meaning strict boundaries are observed.

Up until two months ago,
she had a bedsit in the next street.

But the building was condemned

and so we offered her a home here,
out of charity.

And expediency, no doubt.

Father Morris is elderly.

He's confined to his room,
and without going into indelicate detail,

it does put a certain amount of pressure
on the laundry.

Is she well?

She is in distress,

as you might imagine.

And the infant?

Primrose has as yet to be reunited
with her mother.

Perhaps continued separation
would be best for all concerned

if adoption is planned.

Is adoption planned?

Obviously.

She cannot keep the child.

She fears she cannot keep the child.

I suspect her desires conflict
with what she thinks is possible.

You just informed me
she placed her in a dustbin.

Brenda is a broken woman,
Father Duncombe.

She's always been a broken woman.

She had a history of mental illness
before she came to us.

That does not mean
she is devoid of feeling.

I venture to say
that it means the reverse!

Is this Mrs Donnelly's sewing basket?

I believe it is. Yes.

She always had
a lot of mending on the go.

Shirts, vestments and so forth.

So, did she come to your personal study
to do that, Father?

On occasion.

Now go and give Genevieve
her dinner.

What are you doing?

Sponging and pressing
Timothy's old blazer.

It looked unloved, just hanging there.

And it smells of his chemistry set
and Clearasil.

I miss him, too.

(GIRLS SHRIEK)

- What?
- What's the matter?

- Come here.
- Which one of you's hurt?

Go on.

Go inside, children,
and wash your hands.

In a minute, you're going to hear
some lovely news.

The rabbit's had...

..more rabbits.

I thought Flopsy was female.

We all thought Flopsy was female.

They've got no fur,
and they look like animated giblets.

No wonder the girls are traumatised.

I think baby rabbits
are actually called kittens.

Patrick, this is going to be
educational enough.

Thank you.

Do I just, er, pick her up?
Am I allowed?

She's your daughter, Brenda.

I'm sorry.

I'm so sorry...

...for what I did.

For what I didn't do.

For what I wanted.

For what I couldn't have.

I'm sorry.

And I'm not sorry.

Not if I die and burn.

- (BABY FUSSES)
- Sh...

(SIGHS)

She says she wants to feed the baby,

but she's so engorged,
it's going to be impossible.

It might be too soon for the breast pump,
but it's worth a try.

We must take
every conceivable measure

to head off mastitis at the pass.

The hospital says
that they won't release Primrose

until Social Services are satisfied.

And then they say there's no bed
for Brenda because she isn't ill.

If the authorities agree, we'll find
a room for her at Nonnatus House.

- (FOOTSTEPS)
- Ah! Father Duncombe.

I telephoned the ward
and asked if I might see the child.

Mrs Donnelly is with her daughter.

Is she expecting you?

She is not.

The Medical Officer telephoned.

Three more cases of confirmed
diphtheria in the wider borough.

Are the swab results
from Rakesby Street back yet?

No-one appears to have active disease.

But two adults and four children

have tested positive for diphtheria
bacteria in the upper respiratory tract.

Someone's infected them.

Recently. That much is certain.

(COUGHING)

I don't doubt that you want what's
best for your daughter, Brenda.

And that's why I came here today.

To baptise her.

- As a Catholic?
- Of course as a Catholic.

She will not be denied the Sacrament.

You're too late.

I christened her myself.

A nun told me anyone can do that,
when I was at the children's home.

You must have been very afraid
for Primrose.

I was afraid she'd die
if nobody found her!

Perhaps Brenda might feel
more at ease if you left us alone.

And I would feel more at ease if I remain.

This lady requires support.

- I can't disagree with that.
- (FOOTSTEPS APPROACH)

You need support, don't you, Brenda?

You need to know that your daughter
is safe and well looked after.

You need to know that she's with someone
who can give her the care that she needs.

And you can't do that.

With the best will in the world,
you can't do that.

I know I can't.

I've already spoken
with two adoption societies.

Both have offered you assistance.

I am terminating
this conversation forthwith!

The only assistance
this baby's mother currently requires

is of a personal nature.

And Nurse Franklin is poised to supply it.

Brenda...

The breast pump, if you'll be so kind.

(CHUCKLES) Colour film doesn't half make
Reggie's hair look red! Bless him.

Hm.

Well...

(SIGHS) I won't be putting this
on display...

...in the tin.

Yeah.

With the things I don't want to forget.

But I will always remember
lifting that bin lid...

...and seeing Baby Primrose.

Picture or no picture.

These sheets are that smooth,
they're like icing on a wedding cake.

Clean every day. Shouldn't think
you'd even get that in The Ritz.

What I don't like about this bed
is the space around it.

Or the space around me.

I normally have my Terry
cuddled up across the mattress...

...and I can hear him breathing.

And it's like when I was a kid...

...and I bunked in with my brothers.

And that's what family meant.

It meant no space.

No silence.

No being lonely in the dark.

I remember that.

Once we've measured you up
for a more suitable brassiere,

we're going to put these delightful
cold compresses on your bosoms.

Will that help me to feed her?

It will make you much more comfortable.

And everything else
we can work out together.

I've got so much to make up to her.

There's so much I need to get right.

Brenda, you are more than capable
of being an excellent mother to Primrose

and anyone who tells you otherwise
is simply out to bully you.

I do wrong things, Nurse.

I go in wrong directions.

I've fallen into sin
and I can't climb out of it.

Let's work out what size you are.

I've not told you the truth.

You're free to tell me
anything that you want to

or keep any secret that you wish to.

I tell people I'm a widow.

I'm not.

I'm divorced.

Be that as it may, it's not a crime.

Who did this, Brenda?

My husband, with his belt.

The leather just made stripe marks,
and they faded, over the years.

The buckle cut in more.

I'm sorry.

Married straight from the orphanage.

Seemed the best way out.

When I was eight,
me mam took me to the nuns

and asked them to have me
because she was dying.

On the way, she went into a cake shop
and bought us two éclairs.

We sat on a wall and ate them.

Pretended we were in a café.

There were times when I was married,
I'd look back and think,

"Sitting on that wall...

"...was the last time I was happy."

But I can't have been, can I?

You were a child, Brenda.

And children are alert
to any joy that comes their way...

...any smile
that's tossed in their direction.

Some of us carry that with us
all our lives.

I want better for Primrose.

The people who smile at her
are going to mean it.

I came to offer help.

You came to arrange an adoption.

That's not the kind of help
Mrs Donnelly requires.

She wants to keep the baby.

Her decision is, therefore, final.

Not necessarily.

Social Services
will scrutinise her mental health,

and, as of this week, she is unemployed.

Is Mrs Donnelly aware of that fact?

With an illegitimate baby in tow,
she is not morally suitable

for the position
of Presbytery housekeeper.

Should she choose
to return without the baby,

the situation might be different.

She has said
she will not give up her baby.

That is her right.

The father will have rights, too.

If he is legally identified.

(KNOCK OR DOOR)

Oops.

Apologies.

I'm just popping over to the school
with my shark net.

The Class Four teacher called and said

one of my Mantoux test candidates
has put in an appearance.

She didn't know the class
had been quarantined, poor pet.

Sorry.

(DOOR CLOSES)

Do you know who the father is, Father?

No, Mother.

I do not.

And that's that!

You are a frightfully brave young lady.

Could you have a look
at Sufiyah's other arm

- while you're here, Sister?
- What's the matter with her arm?

Ah.

- Oh, good Lord...
- She told me it doesn't hurt.

I-I've never seen anything like that!

It started as an insect bite.

She says she had it
before they left Pakistan.

Let me see.

You have dark hair...

I've spoken to the school secretary.

The address the Ahmads gave
when they enrolled

was Rakesby Street Homeless Unit.

They've managed to move in
with relatives since then.

That filthy wound is almost
certainly cutaneous diphtheria.

The bacteria has been constantly shedding
and spreading everywhere she's been.

- It can live in floor dust for 14 weeks.
- Oh, no!

I'm calling
the Hospital for Tropical Diseases.

And the council.

I want Rakesby Street fumigated

and this surgery deep-cleaned,

as soon as the poor little girl has gone.

Brenda, my dear.

You must think exceptionally carefully

about naming the father
on the birth certificate.

If I don't, I'll look like a slut.

And if you do name him,

he'll have the right
to influence her fate.

The right to fight you,
if you make a different choice.

I need to see the doctor!

Maureen? What's wrong?

I reckon my kids have got diphtheria.

Maxine's throat is so sore she can hardly
swallow, and Gary's not much better.

All right.

Open wide.

German measles.
Hence the rash and the inflamed throats.

- Do they need penicillin?
- No.

Just a couple of days in front
of the television, hot drinks,

and aspirin if they run a fever.

With a lollipop to take the taste away.

I'll go and see what we've got.

Thanks, Val.

I spoke out of turn last week...

...about you and your gran.

I'm sorry.

I'm sorry.

And I'm grateful.

I was, er, running away
from something that was hard.

And it was too easy.

Till I opened my ruddy trap.

I'm grateful.

And I'm going to go and see my grandma.

(WHISPERS A PRAYER)

I'm getting better, Mum.

They're going to let me out soon!

Me, too, sweetheart.
And your baby brother.

They're going to let me do
the eleven-plus at home.

Pray be seated.

Pass the teacakes
to this end of the table.

There's a draft down there
and they'll go cold.

I will be returning to the Mother House
within the week.

You'll be greatly missed.

I shall be taking Brenda Donnelly
and her daughter with me.

To the Mother House?
Or the Orphanage?

Both, in essence.

We will be, for her,
whatever she requires.

One does not have to be a child
to be an orphan.

Carole Witley has been discharged
from the isolation ward,

but there's no need
for any district visits.

We found her a bed
in the convalescent place at Hythe.

Meanwhile, little Sufiyah Ahmad
is going home,

but she'll need daily dressing changes
on that ulcer for some weeks.

Of course, poor pet.

(CHEERFUL HUMMING)

Nurse Franklin. Good of you to bestow
the gift of your presence upon us!

I was detained by the postman!

"I am delighted to inform you,
and your colleagues

"that you have been declared
runners-up

"in the Slender Legs
professional section!"

So, we haven't won
a year's supply of tights, then?

"Please accept,
with our compliments,

"this selection of our latest hosiery,

"featuring tutti-frutti
and op-art fashions

"for the loveliest
and most lissom limbs.

"Plus one 10% discount voucher
redeemable against future purchases."

One 10% discount voucher?
That's not going to go very far.

Do let's take a peek!

What do they mean when they say
"tutti-frutti" and "op-art"?

There's a bright fuchsia pair here.
I quite like them.

Ooh! Turquoise fishnets!

If you think you're wearing those
for work, I beg to differ.

(ALL GIGGLE)

5oz in a week.

Top marks for Master Bowland
and his mother.

We just need somebody else
to get top marks now.

- (KNOCK AT DOOR)
- Come in.

I wanted Primrose to have this.

I made it from your nightdress.

It kept her warm once.

It can keep her warm again.

If that is payment in lieu of wages
for Mrs Donnelly,

perhaps you ought to hand it to her.

I thought to reimburse you
for her board and lodging.

She is our guest for the present...

...and will be making
her own financial decisions in the future.

Leave it on the desk.

I can manage this.

Will you forgive me?

Will it make you feel better?

No.

Then I'll leave things as they are.

Please don't smile at me.

I loved you.

(SOBS)

Don't you go filling my sink up with soil!

Look.

I don't want it dying
on the way to the Mother House.

And I want them to plant it somewhere
where Primrose can look at it

and know that she's got friends.

Here.

Oh, Vi.

You put her on display,
with everyone else.

- (KNOCK AT DOOR)
- (DOOR OPENS)

Mother Mildred's
almost ready for the off.

I've had to supply one bottle of
lemon barley and one of embrocation.

Let's hope she doesn't mix them up.

Don't let her back in here.

Why?

The council have notified us
that the whole of the street

is to be demolished
within the next two years.

And Nonnatus House
will be demolished with it.

Surely Mother ought to be told?

What can she do?

What can any of us do?

Well...

...it would be a poor show if I didn't put
a word in for our old chum, prayer.

Tell no-one.

MATURE JENNIFER:
The past is never lost to us.

We carry it with us,
everywhere we go.

It is in every cell
of our body and our soul.

It is where we have been.

It was our son's blazer.

Well done for passing your eleven-plus.

It is where we learn to love.

Thank you.

It is where we made our mistakes...

All right there?

...and where we can consign them.

Will you hold her?

The gift is knowing
that the present will soon pass.

And that the way we embrace it

has the power to change everything.

It was my mother's favourite variety,

and Aubrey assures me it will bloom
by Mothering Sunday.

I think it best we get this door down.

Anyone ever told you you've got eyes
just like Paul McCartney?

- No.
- He's my third favourite Beatle.

- Show yourself!
- I'll tell you what,

keep your stupid magazine!

I was only looking at it anyway.