All language subtitles for Call The Midwife - 04x08 - Episode 8.FoV (HDTV + 720p).English.edit.Addic7ed.com

'What do we see when
we look in the mirror?

'Our truest selves?

'Or a faint approximation
of someone we'd rather be?

'The mirror sees it all.

'Our fears, our little triumphs,
and keeps our secrets,

'holds our disappointments in.'

Nuns are supposed to be frugal.

~ Maybe I shouldn't have bought cut flowers.
~ It's only a few dahlias!

They might think I'm extravagant.

Maybe I should have bought
a pot plant instead.

They've invited us to tea
to celebrate our news.

~ You don't have to give them anything.
~ But, Fred, it's an honour.

People like them inviting
people like us.

You'd understand if you was a woman.

If I was a woman, we
wouldn't be engaged.

Fred!

I'm nervous.

Don't be.

It's just one big, happy family.

It's not working, Sister Evangelina.

Oh!

I think the chimney must be blocked.

Blocked, no doubt, because of
a certain handyman's negligence.

Pass me the poker.

I think it likely it is
trammelled by a bird's nest.

According to its species, doom
of several aspects might ensue.

I should shudder more were
it to prove a jackdaw.

Or a magpie.

It's probably a stork with
a slightly singed backside.

Oh!

Ugh!

Fred should have had this
chimney swept in September

when we didn't need a fire,
instead of mooning about like

Billy Bunter struck by Cupid's dart.

Fred. Mrs Gee.

It's so good of you to come and
share your happiness with us.

It's good of you to invite us.

Oh, dahlias, how very extravagant!

~ Excuse me, what's that?
~ It's an engagement cake.

Decorated with buttercream
and crystallised violets.

A sort of pun on Mrs
Gee's first name.

I meant underneath it.

It's, um, silver board.

It's a silver board that went
under my engagement cake.

~ I thought it had been thrown out.
~ Why would we do that?

~ It cost 2 and 11.
~ Don't worry, Trixie.

I'm sure it won't bring them
bad luck, or anything.

This little piggy went to market.

This little piggy stayed at home.

This little piggy had roast beef.

And this little piggy had none.

And this little piggy
went "Wee, wee, wee,"

all the way to Walton-on-the-Naze
to see his grandparents.

~ Camilla, can we steer clear of the W word?
~ What, Walton-on-the-Naze?

No, wee-wee.

~ He's going to get confused and
we've two hours' drive ahead of us.
~ Sorry.

I'm aware there are better
times for me to be going off

to do a fortnight's
course at the London.

But we've made great leaps forward
with this little lavatory seat.

~ Simple pleasures, eh?
~ Have faith.

He'll be running for gold at
the potty Olympics in no time.

Come here.

Camilla? You've forgotten something.

Good Lord.

~ I love you.
~ I love you.

Oh... Peter!

Peter!

~ May you both be happy always.
~ Thank you.

So, have you established a date
for these nuptials, Mrs Gee?

Well, it won't be far off.

My son lives in Plymouth and he's
due some leave from the Navy,

so I'd like it to be then.

What about your daughters, Fred?

Oh, Dolly and Marlene? Dolly's
moved to Australia.

~ She'd have only just got the letter.
~ Oh, I thought she lived in Canada.

No, that's Marlene. She's back home
now. She's settled in Birmingham.

I imagine she's already browsing
the catalogue for outfits.

~ We haven't heard anything yet, have we?
~ I'm sure we will.

Nurse Noakes!

You are restored to us!

Ah! And you have come supplied.

Which is just as well for we have
guests of uncommon appetite today.

I'm frightfully vexed at being late.

I was rather hoping for
a morsel of pork pie.

Dost thou think that because
thou art virtuous

there should be no
more cakes and ale?

Sorry, Sister Monica Joan.

It's my mother's ashes.

They are of comfort to you perhaps.

Yes, and no.

Let's not take her to the party. She
was such a stickler for etiquette.

She'd never go anywhere
without an invitation.

~ Long time no see, Maureen.
~ Hello, Carole.

How's life since you got rehoused?

I swear, that tower block
wobbles when it's windy.

~ What are you doing here, dare I ask?
~ In the family way again.

They reckon there's going to be a pill
soon that can stop it happening.

~ There's a pill for everything nowadays.
~ Is Ted pleased?

~ Over the moon. He's away
now, though, at sea.
~ Oh, of course.

I'd forgotten.

Baby Cohen, Baby Kelly,
Baby Singh, Baby Prichard.

Doctor's been delayed

so the vaccination appointments have
all been put back by half an hour.

~ Sorry, ladies.
~ I may as well feed him
here. He's ever so obliging.

He never minds if it's cold. You'd
be a fool to feed them fresh, really.

Listen to what's in this.
Macaroni, bacon, and tomato.

Nurse! Nurse!

Hello, my love, you all right?

All right, fellas?

Hello, darling.

Morning.

~ Talk about a sight for sore eyes.
~ Marlene!

I'm hardly the Avon Lady, Dad.

Although, judging by the smell
of you, she's been here already.

Oh, it's only a bit of Old Spice.
Got to keep the standards up now.

~ Did you get the letter,
about my lady friend?
~ Yes, Dad... I did.

I'll take this away, if
the moment has passed.

Nothing brings on sickness faster
than staring at the empty bowl.

A tea leaf... in my tea brought
it on this morning.

I've been like this since
I missed my first monthly.

If I was a gambling woman,
I'd put five bob on a girl.

I've rinsed out Mrs Gadsby's handbag
and brought her a nice cup of tea.

Thanks.

~ Would you mind just putting it over there?
~ Of course.

Would you like a Polo mint?
I've got some in my pocket.

~ I didn't hear that.
~ Yes, please.

Mind over matter.

And Polo mints. That's what'll
get you through this.

~ Knock knock!
~ Come in.

Poor thing. Have you got a hangover?

How could I be hungover?

I haven't even been to bed yet,

let alone had anything
stronger than Bournvita.

I got rather a shock when I realised

Nonnatus House had moved
on from Horlicks.

Still, the bathroom
smells just the same.

Palmolive and Izal.

The girls at the mother
and baby home use Lux.

Whatever are you doing?

Applying a protein mask.

My complexion appears to be at the
crossroads of youth and old age.

This morning, I found the
beginnings of a pimple.

And a line beneath each eye.

I don't even look in the
mirror with my glasses on.

My whole face is sort
of sliding downwards,

like a rather exhausted blancmange.

Do you suppose it would
be as effective to take on

the protein in the form of,
say, a fried egg sandwich?

Or some custard?

No.

Yours is the one without the spoon.

No sugar cos you're sweet enough.

She's keeping your dust
down, at any rate.

I don't have Violet coming around
here doing my housework, Marlene.

She's got a business to
run and a home of her own.

Where does that leave you, Dad?

Well, I've handed notice
on this place,

so when we're married,
I'll move in with her.

I thought she'd come and live here.

Well, she lives over her shop.

~ It would be a bit handier.
~ Well, handy for who?
~ Marlene!

I knew you hadn't thought
this through, Dad.

That's why I brought an overnight bag,
so I can stay here until you do.

Mater would thoroughly
approve of this.

She always wanted me to slenderise.

Then, when she was dying, she pushed
a plate of scones towards me

and said, "Camilla,
look after your face.

"The other end's for sitting
on, nobody will ever see it."

It's her anniversary coming up.

I'm going to scatter her
ashes in commemoration.

Somewhere where she was happy.

I can't take them back to India.

And they'd take a rather dim
view of it all in the food hall

at Fortnum & Mason.

Burnt cinder crunching underfoot.

The truth is I haven't the
first idea where to put her.

She floated through life
like a beautiful scarf.

Or a trace of perfume.

I'm not sure anywhere
left its mark on her.

Or, indeed, vice versa.

Hello, midwife calling.

I see someone's dashing away
with the smoothing iron.

Sorry.

Yes, I'd absolutely adore one.

Bourbons, my favourite.

Did you have regular checkups
with your old GP?

Forgive me.

When was the last time
you saw your doctor?

Dr Cartmell...

.. Manchester.

Hello, beautiful.

Apologies, Nurse. I did promise her
I'd be home before you got here

but the chief clerk
wouldn't let me go.

I'm Kevin Dillen.

Nurse Franklin. Do you speak
sign language, Mr Dillen?

The minute I clapped eyes
on June, I made up my mind

to learn sign language,

and learn I did.

She says I won't win
any prizes, but I'm OK.

Oh!

And did Mrs Dillen's husband
translate adequately?

We had a certain amount of fun and
games with "cervix" and "vagina".

But, all in all, I think
we did quite well.

I explained how we'd help
her with her home delivery,

and she seemed frightfully keen...

especially when I said her
husband could stay with her.

Can you pass the pickles,
please, Barbara?

We've been through this,
time and time again.

There is no need for a man
to be in the delivery rooms!

We don't even need
them to boil water,

so many people have
got immersion heaters.

Nurse Crane, do you have a view?

I've seen it done once, in
an artistic family in Leeds.

Suffice to say, there
was a fainting episode.

And it wasn't the mother.

Well, June's husband doesn't
look like a fainter to me.

He seems extremely sensible.

And if he's the only person
who can communicate with her,

~ she's going to need his
help when the baby's born.
~ And so will we.

I learned some sign language,

when I helped with
the Girls' Brigade,

and I can teach a little to Trixie.

But June needs at least one person
who truly understands her,

and that person...

happens to be the
father of her child.

I rather think that Nurse
Franklin is right.

~ Do you want to hear my news?
~ You've given it quite the build-up,

I'm rather afraid it's
going to disappoint.

~ They're knocking down the nurses' home.
~ Really?
~ Well, half of it.

Those of us who
volunteered to move out

and find private digs will
be given a rent allowance.

And I've put my name down.

Oh, Delia, you don't want to
end up in some filthy hole,

~ living cheek by jowl with a lot of students.
~ No, I don't.

I want to live in a spotless
flat... with you.

Say you will, Pats.

Think of the fun we'd have.

Think how we'd wave each
other off each morning,

and then come home and
close the door at night.

And how we'd talk and talk,

and maybe get a record player.
It would be so easy.

Would it? Are you sure there aren't
any rules saying you can't?

No, there aren't, I checked.
Are there any saying you can't?

I don't have to live at Nonnatus,

it was offered to me
as a sort of perk.

Lots of girls share flats.

Not even a nun would bat an eyelid.

Good morning, madam.

I'm your fiance's daughter.

Marlene Dooley, nee Buckle.
You remember me?

Yes! Yes, I do.

~ Oh, what a lovely surprise.
~ Good.

Because I ain't come in for
two yards of knicker elastic.

I used to come in here with
my mum. Hair ribbons, mostly.

She was hard-pressed to keep
me and Dolly looking nice,

but she made a point about
ribbons. Even during the war.

Blue for your sister,
and yellow for you.

Cigarette?

I don't care for smoking in the shop.

The smell clings to the wool,

and I'm not convinced it
comes out in the wash.

These are mentholated.

Quite a pleasant aroma.

My dad always said no woman could
ever take my mother's place.

And he's absolutely right.

And no man could ever
replace my husband.

You were quite a double
act, you and Mr Gee.

Him with his tripe shop,
and you with this.

We worked hard.

It's what you do when
you want to get on.

Shame my dad never took
a leaf from your book.

Still, he knows a steady
business when he sees it.

Proper little gold mine.

That was the phrase he used.

I believe he's moving in here
after you've done the deed.

It was what we discussed, yes.

I wish I could say I was surprised.

But he's always had an eye
for the main chance, my dad.

~ Good morning, Mrs Becker. Your
dress shields have arrived.
~ Oh, good.

I'll leave you to your clientele.

And, by the way, it was
the other way around.

~ What was?
~ Hair ribbons.

Dolly's were yellow.

Mine were blue.

My dad used to say, "Sky-blue,

"like your mother's eyes."

As this is the first in a new series
of classes, Sister Mary Cynthia

has set up a suggestions box so you
can inform us of our shortcomings.

Comments on the refreshments
are not encouraged.

Mr and Mrs Dillen, how nice
to see you both. Oh...

Hello.

You can lie here.

You're welcome.

Excuse me, what's going on here?

~ June uses sign language to communicate.
~ I don't mean that.

I mean, what's her
old man doing here?

~ If I'd known men were invited,
I'd have brought mine, too!
~ Me, too!

I'm sure we don't want to distract
anyone from honest toil.

I have got to take a load of
book-keeping home with me tonight,

~ make up for lost time.
~ It's a shame my Jack can't do the same

but he can hardly unload crates
of bananas in the parlour.

Don't worry, everyone's lovely.

I'm not stopping. The chimney
at Nonnatus is still giving gyp.

Only I was passing the baker's and
they put a tray of meringues out

and I know you love 'em.

~ Yes, I do.
~ They came out a little bit squashed,

so they were selling 'em
two for the price of one.

See you tomorrow morning for
our little constitutional.

Cor. We'll be papering
the parlour with that lot.

Why do you want to move into a flat?

Aren't you happy here?

I'm as happy as I've
ever been in my life.

But there is something that
I find hard to acknowledge.

I have a dark secret. I've
never lived independently.

I've never paid a bill
or bought a pint of milk

or put up a bookshelf in my life.

I have a dark secret
too. Neither have I!

Miss Mount, you will still
join us for lunch each day?

Of course.

A small amount of change is good
for a community. Too much isn't.

Besides, you'd be missed.

I've added a little bit of sugar.
Even a few sips will help.

No, I can't. I'm sorry.

Oh, don't be.

One of the reasons we
make booking-in visits

is to make sure all is well
and, clearly, it isn't.

Have you managed to prepare
any food for Neil today?

I've given him Farley's rusks,
but he don't like them dry

and I can't...

~ I can't face boiling m...
~ Milk?

Is there someone close by who
can... who can call in each day

and help? Your mother, perhaps?

She's over in Bermondsey.

~ We don't speak.
~ What about your husband?

He's in Wormwood Scrubs, love.
Doing three years for burglary.

Doctor has a very busy round today -

I really don't think he can visit
just for morning sickness.

Oh, this is more than morning
sickness, Mrs Turner.

Maureen's been vomiting all day long.

Tell her to pop into clinic next
Tuesday. It's probably all nerves.

I'm sure Doctor will
be able to reassure her.

I love it when you don't
wear a hat or a scarf

and the sun gets the chance
to shine down on your hair.

Shame it don't get a chance
to shine down on mine, eh?

I had an interesting chat in
the shop yesterday about hair.

~ Hair ribbons.
~ Did you? Who with.

Marlene.

I'm sorry, Violet.

Marlene can be a right madam
when she has a mind to be.

I wouldn't have said
she was being a madam.

I would've said she was
trying to be honest.

Honest? What do you mean honest?
She's talking codswallop.

It's not even true codswallop.

Fred, have you or have you not made
any provision for your old age?

I'm looking into setting
up a mushroom farm.

And I haven't given up
on fireworks altogether.

Well, none of them's exactly what
you'd call a little gold mine,

~ though, is it?
~ No.

Fred, why did you ask to marry me

when we could've just stayed friends?

I've got loads of friends - well,
mates - and acquaintances.

~ I haven't had a missus for nearly 20 years.
~ And you're getting on a bit.

Well, old. Whichever
way you want to put it.

Well, yeah, I'm no spring chicken,
but then again, neither are you.

We can look after each
other now, can't we?

I don't need anyone to look
after me, thank you very much.

And if you do, well...

~ Fred, I'm not sure that you're
doing this for the right reasons.
~ I...

I'm doing this because I
thought we fitted together.

~ I thought you were missing
things and so was I.
~ Exactly.

Let's put an end to this. We're
too old to make mistakes.

Morning, Fred.

This'll cheer you up.

Mum always used to say the smell
of bacon made a house a home.

We'll have people and prams
coming in single file, please.

This isn't the chariot
race in Ben Hur.

Thank you. I'll call in and
collect the registration form.

Yes!

Since when is this hall your
personal wastepaper basket?

I'm sorry, Sister.
I was just pleased.

I managed to find a council nursery
space for Maureen Gadsby's

~ little boy.
~ Oh, you have, have you?

I decided that if her problem
really was nerves,

with more rest and more support, she
might find her sickness resolves.

Well, it's hardly scientific,

but it is full of compassion
and common sense.

And much of the time, that's
all a midwife needs. You'll do.

Now, go and lend a hand
at the weighing table

and put that in the bin.

I feared you had not yet
succeeded in your task.

I looked for a lightness about
you, the sense of a burden gone.

~ But I could not perceive it.
~ No?

Sister Julienne's given me
permission to keep the ashes here,

until I decide what to do.

It didn't seem quite right
keeping her under my bed,

like a pair of slippers.

I shall be eternally glad
when I am transmogrified.

The burden of the flesh is so heavy.

It is no marvel that
the soul feels trapped.

Sister Monica Joan,
I rather suspect...

.. if anything's trapping
poor Mater, it's me.

Then you must release her.

I know.

But where? It's the last
thing I'll ever do for her.

I have to make sure everything's
top-notch and tickety-boo.

All done properly.
Or... or never let go.

Maureen? It's Nurse Gilbert.

Maureen?

Oh, Maureen!

Maureen, you need to see a doctor.

And this time, he's
going to come to you.

Nonnatus House, midwife
speaking, how may I help you?

'H-hello, this is Kevin Dillon.

'I think June's labour's
just started.'

Dillon.

Of course, the little
deaf and dumb lady.

I shall dispatch her
personal midwives.

And how many times
a day do you vomit?

20 or 30.

Let me put a little Vaseline
on your lips, Maureen,

to soothe them.

I'll be running some blood
tests and some urine tests.

But I don't need either to see
that you're extremely dehydrated.

People keep saying it's my nerves.

It seems to me that
you have a condition

called hyperemesis gravidarum.

It's rare, but very debilitating.

Will I lose it, Doctor? The baby?

Babies are tough little
things, Mrs Gadsby.

But if we can't sort out some fluids,

we're more likely to lose you.

I'm sorry, June.

Can you tell her I don't think
things are on the move just yet?

Not ready yet.

I know, I know, it's disappointing.

~ False alarm, I'm afraid.
~ Oh.

Baby will come soon,
just... not today.

Tell me, June.

You can tell me.

She says, "I want to meet my baby."

She says, "I thought I
would meet him tonight.

"I feel him kick.

"I feel him turn inside of me.

"I put my hand here,

"here where I feel
his fist, or his foot.

"And we are one."

She says, "Will we understand
each other when he's born?"

"If he's like you,

"I have no voice for him to hear."

"And if he's like me...

".. he'll live in silence."

She says, "I need to hold him.

"I want to look into his face,

"because, until I do,

"I won't know how to tell him

"that he's loved."

Oh, goodness me, Sister Monica Joan.

You look like Mrs Hiawatha
all wrapped up like that.

I would respond in verse,

but my brain is too jellied to
recall the scantest couplet.

And I doubt Minnehaha
would be obliged

to secrete a bottle of hot
water underneath her scapula.

It is frightfully nippy.

I might get you a
vest after luncheon.

The boiler has died.

From inattention.

I may yet suffer the same fate.

Has Fred stopped coming altogether?

He has not been seen since his
liaison with the haberdasher

wilted on the vine.

He must be distraught.

He would be more so if he could see
the tinge of blue upon my hands.

I've come to take your
blood pressure, Maureen.

What's happened to Neil?

Did Nurse Gilbert take
him to the nursery?

She did.

And they agreed he could
stay until five o'clock.

To give us time to make
arrangements with social services.

Social services?

Oh.

Maureen, he needs to be looked
after while we take care of you.

The foster mother we've
found for him is lovely.

Foster mother?

I'm his mother.

He cries for his dad already, I
don't need him crying for me too.

He can't do without me for
weeks and weeks. He can't.

I promise you, children are
more resilient than you think.

What does "resilient" mean?

It means...

strong.

I wish I was resilient.

Cos if I was, Neil
wouldn't have to be.

MUSIC: "Little Things Mean
A Lot" by Kitty Kallen

♪ Blow me a kiss from across the room

♪ Say I look nice when I'm not...

What ho, Fred?

♪.. Touch my hair
as you pass my chair

♪ Little things means a lot

♪ Give me your arm
as we cross the street

♪ Call me at six on the dot

♪ A line a day when you're far away

♪ Little things mean a lot...

♪.. Don't have to buy me

♪ Diamonds or pearls

♪ Champagne, sables and such... ♪

What if I go past one of the
Cubs? It makes an utter nonsense

of everything I've told them
during cycling proficiency.

What's the alternative? Me with
the mop across my shoulders

and the buckets hanging from
each end of it, like a milkmaid?

Why not? It'd be much safer
and you'd look quite fetching.

Not as fetching as you.

Go on, I'll take the bike.

You can see to the
brushes and buckets.

~ But it's my work bike
and there's a knack to it.
~ Oh, go on!

I need the practice anyway.

I'll need a bike of my own
once we're in the flat.

Ooh! Gangway!

Ooh!

Sorry!

Ding-dong, Avon calling.

Don't you flamin' well start.

Sorry.

I have an uncanny knack
for misplaced jollity.

Feel free to shy a plimsoll at me.

I called in at the corner shop.

They said you hadn't picked up
the Sporting Life since Monday.

I shouldn't be entertaining
you in my vest.

We've all got our vests
on in Nonnatus.

Some of us are wearing two.

The boiler broken?

Yes, because no-one's come
to see to it for days.

And the chimney's choked with soot.

You know, the fella before me
warned me about that boiler.

He said,

"You'll have to sweet-talk
it every day.

"It's like a bad-tempered woman."

Those contraptions have been giving
me the runaround for 15 years.

I never knew what he meant about
bad-tempered women until this week.

Do you mean Violet or your daughter?

Both.

~ I thought Marlene was staying with you.
~ No.

She's gone to stay with
her friend, Norah.

Says she's fed up with
looking at my long face.

Does she, indeed?

Don't stop her coming round
every day to check to see

if the flat's still standing.

It's like she's fixated
with the place.

Patrick. Is there nothing at all
that we can do for Maureen Gatsby?

I've seen hyperemesis before,
but never like this.

Is it cooked through when the mince
is bubbling through the potato?

Looks slightly like volcanic lava.

I'm sure it will taste
perfectly delicious.

Really, Patrick.

Of all the drugs salesmen
knocking on our door,

hasn't there been one who's offered
some sort of anti-emetic?

Yes, I think there was someone.
A month or two ago.

I think we were busy with diphtheria.

I will look it up in the log.

Oh, I forgot to say
- it's really hot.

I want yellow walls in here.
And china with a modern pattern.

I don't want roses or violets on it.

I want geometric designs.

I want the only flowers
to be real flowers.

Over there, on that windowsill,

where they'll catch the light each
morning when the sun comes up.

We'll have to find something
better than that ghastly jug.

Oh, I like it.

It's as though somebody left
it for us, like a little gift.

And I want to smell
coffee when I wake up.

And bleach, because that
will mean you're here.

Or that you've just gone out.

And when you come back
in, I can say...

"Welcome home."

Ah, this is it.

Has to be worth a try.

~ Shall I take the keys
and get a set cut for you?
~ Yes.

~ I'd come with you, but I'll
be late on duty if I don't fly.
~ Gosh, yes.

~ It's 20 to.
~ 20 to? I thought it was about quarter past.

~ Oh, I must have got water in my watch.
~ Take my bike.

~ Are you sure?
~ Park it outside the nurses' home.

I'll fetch it before my shift
tonight. No-one will ever know.

Take this as well. I don't
want you catching cold.

You really are a sort of angel.

The tragedy is, no-one will
ever know that either.

Agh!

Good afternoon. I'm enquiring
about a Miss Delia Busby.

We believe she may have been brought
to you following a cycling accident.

'Of course. Please hold.'

Such a nice young woman, too.

Her mother and father will
be beside themselves.

They live miles away. In Wales.

~ Hello?
~ 'Are you a relative?'

No, I'm a friend.

'Information can only be given
to the patient's next of kin.'

Of course. Thank you.

~ Any news?
~ No.

Would you like me to run
you to the London in my car?

They're only letting her
see her nearest and dearest.

You know what the rules are like.

~ Sugar?
~ No, thank you.

Like my pa always says,
I'm sweet enough.

And I don't know why you've
come round interfering.

Because I know what it's like
to find oneself in a jam.

How hard it is to say
the things one should.

Or wishes to.

This is our family home, Dad.

This is where we grew up.

Marlene...

.. we didn't move in here until
I was demobbed in 1946.

Your mother never even lived here.

~ It was just you, me, Dolly
and that terrier we had.
~ I know.

But this is where we
came together again,

where we put the Blitz behind us.

And for that very reason,
Mum was everywhere.

How could she be, Marlene?

We lost everything when
that bomb dropped.

I went back to the bombsite,

with my Auntie Peg after the funeral.

I made her take me.

I thought there'd be stuff
lying round in the rubble.

Like souvenirs.

It had already been bulldozed.

Every time I come home,

there's another gap where
something used to be.

Ain't that the truth.

Sometimes I think it's only
the river that stays the same.

Can I help you, dear?

~ Are you Delia's mother?
~ Yes, I am.

I was hoping to see her. I'm Patsy.

Patsy? Oh, of course.

You're the lady she helps at Cubs.

I had to ring for the nurse.

She has these...

spells - seizures, the
doctors call them...

.. on account of the
knock to her head.

Oh.

~ Hello, Marlene.
~ I'm not going to ask you
to be nice to me, Violet.

I was selfish and I was in the wrong.

You could fill a whole page of your
ledger adding up the wrongs I done.

I don't think we've got
anything to discuss.

I'd like you to talk to my dad.

Because my mum would tan my hide

if she knew I tried to
stop him being happy.

I believe in the films they
say, "Your place or mine?"

I'd live in a ditch
if it was with you.

Correct answer.

There's still some dirt from the
road around your fingernails.

It's by that little graze.

When they next give you
a bedbath, just get them

to rub it away with the
corner of the flannel.

A spot of antiseptic
wouldn't go amiss.

You sound a bit like a nurse.

Do I?

Are you a friend of mine?

Yes.

Have we been friends long?

A little while.

That's nice.

Have you got lots of friends?

No.

Are you a nurse?

No, cariad.

I'm your mum.

Oh.

Can you help this girl?

This is Patsy, cariad.

What's the matter?

She says she's my friend.

And it's making her cry.

The adverts make all sorts of claims
for these paper handkerchiefs.

But I don't think they'll
ever catch on.

Tears just seem to melt them.

Nonnatus House, midwife speaking.

Will her memory come back?

No-one will make us any promises.

So we're having to settle for hope.

She's dozing, and the moment.

Her father's sitting
with her for a bit.

He used to do that
when she was a baby.

Sit there looking at
her while she slept.

There will be a lot of that
when we get her home to Wales.

Will the hospital let you do that?

The specialist suggested it.

She'll need looking after
all the hours God sends.

For a while, at least.

And we still don't know if the
seizures will be permanent.

May I come visit?

Delia always says Pembridge is
lovely when it's not raining.

Let's see how she does.

May I call, from time to time?

We aren't on the telephone.
I dare say you can write.

I know where these can go.

That's right.

That's right, sweetie, just rest.

~ I keep forgetting that
talking to her won't help.
~ It helps me.

Little pushes now, June.

~ Little pushes.
~ Little pushes. Little pushes.
~ That's it!

That's it! That's it.

I love you. I love you, June Dillon.

Success!

Baby's head's born.

The head's born.

Baby's just turning.

One last big push for me, June.

That's it! That's it! Well done!

It's a boy, June.

It's a boy!

Oh, shh, little one.

She wants him held up.

She says, "I love you.

"And your father loves you.

"And if you never hear his voice,

"or if I never hear yours...

".. just know that we love you...

"from the bottom of our hearts."

~ Evening, Trixie.
~ Or should I say "good morning"?

Sometimes I can hardly tell.

You look tired.

I've just delivered a baby.

And I'm off to sit with a dying man.

That's life, really. Isn't it?

Must hurry.

Is that the Samaritans?

Is it all right to call
if I don't want to die?

Because all I really want
is just to stop drinking.

Thank you, but there's
someone with her now.

And she's in a place of safety.

You are not alone, Trixie.

I promise you, you are not alone.

If you say you'll start praying,

I guarantee you now that
would not stop me crying.

The world is full of healing,
Trixie, and people who care,

and who'll help you to find it.

I don't want to go overboard
on fold rolls.

I've got a blind spot for
trimmings, being a haberdasher!

You were frightfully disciplined
about the rickrack braid.

And I'm bally certain, no-one
will begrudge a bride a rose.

Well, Coco Chanel used to say that
in order to be elegant, before you

leave the house you should take
off the last thing you put on.

What if the last thing
was one's skirt?

Oh, you're right, though,
Violet. This is too plain.

Oh.

Sky-blue, like your mother's eyes.

Maureen, look who it is!

~ My little man!
~ Go to your mummy.

One as necessary. Just as
you've been taking them.

I tell you what, every
woman in the family way's

going to be banging your
doors down for these.

What's that magic stuff
in them, again?

Er, the tablets are
known as Distaval.

The magic ingredient
is called thalidomide.

Well, better get some more in.
I'm going to spread the word.

Shall we?

I am the daughter of a man who drank.

I am the daughter of a
man who fought in a war.

I heard him yelling at night.

And I saw him crying.

But I knew how to make him smile.

I knew how to make him better.

And there are only two
things that could do that.

Me.

And a bottle of Scotch.

I became a nurse.

And a midwife.

I was needed.

And I needed them.

Because every time
I delivered a baby...

.. I was right in the heart of a
happy family for one or two hours.

No matter that I always
have to go home on my own.

No matter that...

the one thing that makes
me feel better...

is a glass of Scotch.

Or something like it.

There are so many things like it.

Looking back...

.. it seems to me my father
was quite unadventurous.

Do I have to say it now?

My name is Beatrix.

But people call me Trixie.

And I am an alcoholic.

'Sometimes it's hard to distinguish

'between ends and beginnings.

'Conclusions do not always hurt,

'and starting afresh may
not feel entirely happy.

'Letting go brings peace

'and turns the tide
towards the future.

'After the quiet ceremony
Violet wanted,

'the wedding party went not
to her home or to Fred's,

'but to a place where
everyone was cherished

'and all doors and hearts were open.

'Like the face of a devoted parent,

'Nonnatus House was etched with
a little more time each year.

'With each small shadow,

'every fading grace
grew more beautiful,

'and was loved more
than words can say.'