All language subtitles for Call The Midwife - 05x08 - Episode 8.DVDRip.x264-OUIJA.English.updated.Addic7ed.com

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Women write their history
in the words that pass between them.

Hello.

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

the clothing stitched,
the service given,

the choices made,
if there was choice at all.

But in 1961,

we were choosing routes
and taking byways never walked before.

We did not hesitate or stumble,

because all roads were unexplored
and everything was possible.

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

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

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

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

Sandrine Weller's in next. Miss.

Unmarried women can't be referred
for oral contraception.

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

Rules are rules, Patrick.

- It isn't what we hoped for.
- No. But it's a start.

And you still change lives.

For the better.

Coo-ee! Violet!

Hello, Tessie.
You remember Tessie, don't you, Fred?

Her brother married my cousin Enid.

Yes, and he was never happy again.

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

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

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

I've a bloody good mind
to write to that prime minister.

They're quick enough to ship 'em
out there for �10 a head.

And then, if they don't like it
and they wanna come home,

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

Oh. I heard you was working
on a sheep farm.

That can't have been very pleasant.

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

- Suffice to say, it weren't just wool.
- Ah, I'm a city lad, Violet.

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

- Oh!
- Ah, good for you.

The East End raised you, now you can get
stuck in and sort its khazis out.

Thank you.

He doesn't need compost
all over his lapels.

We're on our way to a consultation.

Mum, there's a notice in the window.

Oh, so much for,
"Knock and it shall be opened unto you."

Coo-ee! Reverend.

Oh! We want to organise a wedding.

Well, then I should put a shirt on.

I think
that would be preferable.

Mitchell's got a fianc�e.
She's Australian.

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

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

Well, she's in the family way.

- Well, how far along in the family way?
- Far enough.

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

because if he had,
he never would've come home.

I'm sure he wouldn't.

But, Mitchell,
as soon as your fianc�e arrives,

we could start to plan the wedding.

It takes three weeks to call the banns.

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

The ship was delayed at Cape Town

and by the time they dock,
Noelle might've given birth.

Well, under the circumstances,
no one will condemn her, or the child.

- It will still be a bastard.
- Mum...

I want 'em married
the minute that boat docks.

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

Have you got bricks in your pockets?

Marbles?

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

Now, off you hop, and Sister Monica Joan
will give you a liquorice allsort.

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

You've got her well wrapped up.

Oh, she feels the cold, does Susan.
And it's gotten quite nippy out.

I'd have loved a little girl.

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

Oh, I wish she had
the lungs of an angel.

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

- Proper Miss Determined, she is.
- It's probably just as well.

You can take that blanket off
if she's hot.

I don't mind, honest.

- Mrs Mullucks and Susan.
- Yeah.

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

She can hold a rattle in them,
Dr Turner, and a spoon.

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

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

Last time we were
in the children's hospital,

there was a little boy
born just like Susan,

only with proper legs and feet.

And he was having his fingers amputated.

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

I think you should encourage Susan
to lean towards things, Rhoda,

try to pick them up.

She has some muscle at the shoulder
and it may be she can develop it.

Should I make her an appointment
with the occupational therapist?

Oh, Rhoda! Don't cry.

You're doing so well.

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

"You're doing so well.

"You're doing so well."

And I thought
once I'd pushed her out,

the pain'd be over.

I'll be out of your hair in a minute.

Sister Winifred had a fainter,
sweet tea and a ginger nut required.

- Ugh!
- What happened to you?

Ugh! Baby Williams evacuated his bowels
at the weighing station.

Well, you can't go back out
covered in all sorts.

That is a very copious stool.

Have you spoken to the mother
about his feeding pattern?

Would you like to talk to her?

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

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

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

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

And make sure you speak to Mrs Williams.

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

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

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

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

And then I remember,

in the middle of the night,
I remember that she's got no arms.

And no legs.

I just lie there shaking.

Are you getting much sleep, Rhoda?

Because we can help with that.

I can give you a mild sedative.

And you can take it
only when you need it.

It's called Distaval.

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

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

"Pantyhose"?
What on Earth are pantyhose?

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

They've had them in America for years.

You make that sound
like a recommendation.

But think, Phyllis.

No metal clips, no buttons, no belts.
Nothing digging in.

Just silky, whisper-light nylon

clinging like a second skin
from waist to toe.

Sounds like a breeding ground for yeast.

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

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

Is there nowhere a woman can get 40
uninterrupted winks around this place?

Five minutes to gather my thoughts
before Compline,

that's all I ask, and what do I get?

Conversations about nylons,

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

Sorry, Sister Evangelina.

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

No!

Oh!

- Morning, Tessie.
- Violet.

I heard about Mitchell's fianc�e.

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

Love knows no boundaries.

- Who told you?
- Mr Ballard at the stationers.

And he said you was in yesterday
ordering wedding invitations.

Yes.

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

two dozen terry squares,
six pairs of plastic pants,

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

And none of it's for me.

I see.

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

Mum. Noelle's ship's in tomorrow.

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

and they said it was definite.

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

I have my doubts
about Australian foundation garments.

Congratulations.

That's absolutely perfect, Tripti.

There's no need to thank me, Muna.
It's all part of the job.

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

Oh, Mr Valluk!

I beg your pardon.
Are you working shifts again?

I'm sorry, but

he will not look.

It's all right.

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

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

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

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

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

Something is bite you?

No. Not at all.

Hello, Mum.

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

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

There's certainly no missing it,
is there?

And here she is. This is Noelle.

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

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

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

I think you'd better call me Mum.

I think I'm allergic to fleas.

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

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

to stop the fleas
going up my trouser legs.

And yet people try so hard.

It's almost always the landlords' fault.

Where there are bad drains,
there are rats,

and where there are rats,
there are fleas.

Or bed bugs.

Bed bugs can really sink their teeth in
when you're sitting with the dying.

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

I have it on good authority

that the Palace Picture House
was fumigated just last week.

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

I want to talk to you.

I'm always agreeable to that.

And perhaps dance a little?

I'm agreeable to that, too.

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

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

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

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

Your dad was a ship's broker
who travelled the world.

Mine had a draper's shop
in Pembrokeshire.

I'm amazed my mother
doesn't get vaccinations

when she comes to London
to visit Auntie Blod.

- When's she coming again?
- Monday.

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

What is it?

That woman's here again.

The one that sneaks
the gin into her coffee.

I used to think she was on the game,
but I've never seen her with a client.

I just think she's lonely.
Or heartbroken.

Or both, maybe.

She looks familiar somehow.

But I don't think I know her.

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

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

I have merely managed to unearth
two copies of Jessica's First Prayer

and The Collected Works of Walter Scott.

Mmm, that sounds like Sister Eustace.

There was always
a strange streak about her.

I never knew
if it was violence or romance.

This one seems to be
full of party frocks.

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

It's my wedding dress.

Really?

I'll never forget putting this on
to take my vows and enter the novitiate.

I had to wear high heels with it

and Mother Alice made me practise
walking up and down in them

until I had blisters.

And this one's mine.

It was almost thrown out

because there was
silver embroidery on the sleeves.

In the end,
I had to unpick every stitch.

I felt rather sorry for the bride
that donated it.

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

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

Sister, the expression on your face

was worth a thousand frills
and folderols.

And I don't mind telling you,

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

I'm sure you looked lovely.

But I was just
a load of nonsense. I'd...

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

I had, once upon a time.
And I think my mother had, too.

Which is mostly sad for her.

Is this one yours, Sister Evangelina?

Oh!

If there's enough crepe de Chine in it
to make a parachute, yeah, it must be.

Thine,

and mine also.

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

Oh, Sister. Really?

"We have desired to go

"Where springs not fail,

"To fields where flies
no sharp and sided hail

"And a few lilies blow."

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

Sister Evangelina,

I've just been called out
to Tripti Valluk

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

- Whatever for?
- The family's housing is so poor.

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

and even with my little bits of Sylheti,

there'll be communication problems
with anyone other than Tripti herself.

"Little bits of Sylheti"?

I've been picking words up

and writing them down
phonetically when I can.

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

You're too disorganised and too slim.

But I remember teaching myself
some words of Yiddish

when I first came to Poplar.

- And...
- What does that mean?

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

Welcome words to any mother
after a hard labour,

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

Get your bag, I'm coming with you.

But you're the midwife, mind.
I'm just there to do the donkey work.

Fred, this front tyre
is as soft as butter.

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

Well, I keep pumping it up.
I dunno what's the matter with it.

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

Sister Evangelina...

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

Nurse Gilbert has a patient waiting.

Oh! Whose dinner's this supposed to be?

Ah, Muna must have
prepared it for later.

After the birth, Tripti and her baby
will go into a period of seclusion,

where they'll just rest
and not see anyone,

including her husband, for a while.

Can't fault that arrangement.

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

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

Too many unwelcome visitors,
if you ask me.

Oh! Have you got any soap, Mrs Valluk?

Fairy, Lifebuoy. Anything will do.

Yesterday, I cleaned everything.
All of room.

You may start feeling the urge

to push soon, Tripti.

Sunlight. That'll do.

Do you want to unpack the gas and air,

just in case we need it
for the final stretch?

In my view, Nurse,
if mother's doing well,

you don't wanna upset the apple cart
by waving it under her nose.

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

The placenta will come soon, Tripti.

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

This water's perfect for Baby's bath.

Oh, we can't keep feeding the meter
just to keep it on the simmer.

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

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

No! You know
I don't handle newborns any more.

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

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

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

It would be very helpful
if you stepped in.

Oh!

I think this young lady
has been here before.

Ooh, maybe not in this continent,

maybe not in weather like this,
but she's been here.

Come on, little girl.

That's it.

I hope your mummy's got some vests

for you to wear
underneath your pretty clothes.

Go and see to Mother, Nurse Gilbert.

Baby and I are getting along

just fine.

Yes.

Would you like some tea and toast,
Sister Evangelina?

I reckon we've earned more than toast.

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

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

Oh. There's none left.

I fear our noble friends, the rats,
must've been there in advance of us.

Oh, yes, those special rats
that can open tins

and only live in convent kitchens.

Oh!

Cocoa-flavoured buttercream.

And a rogue splinter
of chocolate button.

You are slipping up, Sister.
You missed a bit.

I... I chanced upon some water biscuits.

They have no lure for rats.

Do you still want a cup of tea?

Suppose I shall have to settle for one,

seeing as it's the only sustenance
I'm gonna get.

I'll bring it over.

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

Thank you.

Morning, Sister. Brr!

Can't say I blame ya.

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

Best bit of the day.

Especially if I nod off and wake up
to the smell of my Violet frying bacon.

Oh! Sorry!

Sister Evangelina?

Oh, no.

- Look!
- What's this?

Have you given any more thought

to buying Angela a doll's pram
for her birthday?

She always makes such a beeline
for the one at the community centre.

Why spend all that money
when she seems perfectly happy

with a basket of sticks and pine cones?

Ah, just in time for some bacon.

Where's your scarf?

It's a school scarf,
so I wear it on school days,

- and today's a Saturday.
- Ah!

Which means we get
our copy of The Lancet.

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

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

It isn't.

We're going to be looking
at the doll's pram section.

Ooh, thank you. What a lovely house.

Dad! She understands everything we say.

Patrick, you're needed.

At Nonnatus House.

I would put money on another stroke.

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

But she hadn't seen you, or any doctor,
since she came back to Poplar.

Will there have to be a post-mortem?

It's a sudden death.

I will have to inform the coroner.

You shall not take her from this place.

Sister Monica Joan.

Dr Turner has to inform the authorities.
He has no choice,

and no say in what is ordered.

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

How is our Sister to rise again,

if her earthly form is not intact?

She will need eyes to see,

a brain to think,

a heart to love.

If you mutilate her now,

you maim her for eternity.

Oh, my dear.

We cannot address this now.

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

when we have attended
to all that is essential.

Do you suggest

that prayer is not essential?

I suggest that prayer can wait.

Whatever must be done on Earth,

we know our Sister is in Heaven.

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

I spoke to the coroner's office.

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

it looks as though
we can avoid a post-mortem.

Oh, Patrick...

I'm sorry.

I know how much she meant to you.

To everyone.

Who am I going to spar with now?

I'm not crying about that.

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

so I sent Timothy out with Angela,

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

They're withdrawing Distaval?

With immediate effect.

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

This is official?

I... I rang the Board of Health.

I didn't think there'd be anyone
there today, but the line was engaged.

I didn't think that was a good sign.

So I looked in The Lancet.

And there's a letter to the editor.

Thalidomide
from Distillers Biochemicals.

But... But they just say
that there is a possible association

with harmful effects on the foetus.

And it also says there are only
two reports from abroad,

and none from Great Britain.

I don't understand it.

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

Shelagh, I have prescribed Distaval
to dozens of patients.

Perhaps scores.

Deformed babies
have been born in our district.

We need to speak to someone.

And... And then we need to act.

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

I feel like a bit of a chump
calling you out when there was no need.

If a quick home visit helps you to relax
and look forward to your wedding,

that's all to the good.

It's like being royalty.

Mr Hereward says
that the special licence

came from the Archbishop of Canterbury.

Grand as well as quick.

Is that your outfit?

I brought the maternity dress from home

and Tessie took charge
of the accessories.

We tried and tried
to find me a proper gown,

but all the dressmakers
were busy and, well,

I'm not gonna get anything
off the peg in my condition, am I?

Perhaps not.

But I love the colours,

and Tessie certainly
knows how to pick a hat.

It's just not very bridal.

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

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

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

You'll still look beautiful, Noelle.

But will I feel like a bride?

No, I won't call back later.

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

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

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

- Hold the line, caller.
- Very well.

News travels so quickly.

Forget-Me-Not Lane Florists
just telephoned

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

free of charge.

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

Everything she ever had,
she tried to give away.

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

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

Really?

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

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

Which happened quite often
over the years.

It happened to me, too.

But this time, she was saying,

"Poor girl! All the way from Australia.

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

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

Well...

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

- No.
- Is it?

Nonnatus House.

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

Is it to do with
the coroner's arrangements?

No.

I thought you might like a cuppa, Fred.

- It's well-sugared.
- Thank you.

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

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

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

No, she wouldn't.

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

Ah, she was a grafter,

and grafters don't waste time
on pleasantries.

I'm just doing what she would've done,
if the shoe was on the other foot.

I'm just doing what I do.

Well, somebody's fudging something,
if you ask me.

There must've been more than
just one or two cases!

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

What about Baby Cottingham?

The limbless baby
that died in St Cuthbert's.

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

I was with Ruby when she was in labour.

When the baby was finally born,

in theatre, the surgeon said,

"Oh, my God. Another one!"

The Officer for Health

told us that the drug
was banned in Germany last week.

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

Thalidomide.

The first thing we thought of
was little Susan Mullucks.

But her mother was never
prescribed Distaval until last week.

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

until we find out more.

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

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

Doctor, there must be dozens of women,

pregnant and otherwise,
who have been prescribed this.

Yes. By me.

- I don't know how to put it right.
- Patrick, sit down.

Sister, go back to Nonnatus House.

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

And send me Nurse Mount.

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

Doctor, you're not to blame.

Oh, I will be,

if one more woman,
pregnant or otherwise,

swallows one more of those vile pills.

We brought nothing into this world...

And it is certain
that we can carry nothing out.

The Lord gave,
and the Lord hath taken away.

Blessed be the name of the Lord.

Blessed are the dead
who die in the Lord.

Yea, saith the Spirit,
for they rest from their labours.

The undertaker's arrived.

I just don't understand it.

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

specifically to help with
intractable morning sickness,

but they all gave birth
to normal, healthy babies.

Are you sure?

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

But none of them started
sooner than October of last year,

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

What about Jeffrey Gallagher's mother?

He was the little chap
born without thumbs.

The Gallaghers left the district.

They went to live in Haverhill,
in Suffolk.

I've got a positive for Ruby Cottingham.

She's had it recently,

but she wasn't prescribed it
during pregnancy.

Then I looked further back.

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

Dr Turner diagnosed her with anxiety,
leading to sleeplessness.

I'm sorry.

She must've had some left.
Kept them in the cupboard.

People do.

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

- Oh, Dr Jacques?
- You rang for me earlier?

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

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

Yes.

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

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

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

I know.

She's one of our own, too.

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

If you would grant us
the honour, Sister,

Crellin and Sons
would like to take care of everything.

The coffin, the hearse,

the burial place, the headstone.

Oh, there will be no charge.

No charge at all?

I was born two months
before I should've been,

and I nearly killed me mother.

Sister Evangelina
bathed me in olive oil,

wrapped me up in lint,

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

She never took a penny piece.

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

Rhoda Mullucks' sister, Ava,

left Poplar two years ago
and moved to Harlow.

Dr Jacques prescribed Distaval for her,

for insomnia, shortly afterwards.

She would've had the tablets
in supply 18 months ago,

round about the time
that Susan was conceived.

So we write
to Jeffrey Gallagher's GP,

warn of the possible connection
to his missing thumbs.

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

And we tell Ruby Cottingham
why her baby died.

I think Sister Julienne
will want to do that.

Yes.

Mr Tunnicliffe?

- Yeah?
- May I speak to your wife?

It's regarding a problem
with her prescription medication.

I must take them, I'm afraid, Mrs Jones.
Even if there are just two remaining.

Mrs Michaels?

Prescription patients have been
passing Distaval around

as if they were nuts at a party.

I've knocked
at Rhoda Mullucks' house twice.

There's no-one in,

and neighbours don't know
where they've gone.

Mrs Cottingham,

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

Called me Ruby then.

Ruby.

Your eldest boy told me
where I might find you.

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

Boys can be a trial.

I wanted that little girl
so much, Sister.

I know.

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

That if I made her into someone,
I could forget her. But...

Can't... Can't forget someone
you never knew.

And the names I do try and give her
just blow round my head like leaves

or bits of feathers.

Some days she's Amanda.

Some days she's Janine.

Or Rose.

They're all beautiful names, Ruby.

I can't catch her.

Can't pin her down.

Ruby, I came because...

Because it seems
there's some new information

which might help us to understand
why your little girl

was born so poorly.

She was poorly, weren't she?

You saw.

I did.

It seems possible that you may have
inadvertently taken some medication

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

What does "inadvertently" mean?

It means it wasn't your fault.

The medication is called Distaval

and it's being withdrawn from sale.

You'll be wanting these, then.

Yes.

Can I just take one last one?

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

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

I've not had it out of its box
since I buried Mother.

I just thought I'd get ahead with mine.

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

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

Not to the Hand and Shears.

I really didn't fancy
a complexion-ruining evening

of orange squash and pork scratchings.

I can't say I blame you.

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

If you do, I might burst into tears.

God love you, but you look lonely.

I'm so sorry.

Oh!

And you didn't even offer me
any Horlicks.

You know what I like about you, lass?

You're a trier.

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

I hope so.

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

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

When I see Tom and Barbara together now,

I don't see what I might've had,
I see what they have.

They belong somewhere,
and they're contented.

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

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

It really doesn't.

Trixie.

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

I like to think I'm one of them,

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

so was Sister Evangelina.

But you aren't.

And there's no use pretending otherwise.

No.

Come on. Iron your funeral outfit.

Let's see what
Father Christmas brings you.

No nun's gone
in Sister Evangelina's wedding dress.

You'll have to hold it lower than that.

No, lower.

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

You'll be glad you wore white and all.

You look a picture.

I just wanted to see her.

Before the crowds come in.

Of course you do.

I wanted to see her myself.

I used to be so terrified of her.

Me, too.

And I'm generally not
the terrified type.

But she taught me so much.

Me, too.

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

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

If I decide to train as a midwife,

I have to live in
hospital-approved accommodation.

East Finchley will be too far away.

What do you mean, train as a midwife?

You don't wanna be doing
such a nasty, personal sort of job.

I do it.

I know you do.

You two are as thick as thieves.

And this butter is too cold
for these teacakes.

Mrs Busby, would you give Delia
her birth certificate?

What for?

So she can book herself
onto this training course?

No. So she can apply for a passport.

Because she isn't going to Pembrokeshire
for her holiday next spring.

She's coming to Paris with me.

I'm not an unsophisticated woman.

I've been to Jersey.

And the Isle of Man.

You always did things your own way.

I can bear it if you upset me.

I'm your mum,

and you're a grown woman.

Thank you, Mrs Busby.

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

Congratulations, darling.
I feel like I can breathe out now.

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

I kept hoping
it would all just fizzle out.

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

and it didn't work then, either.

Oh!

Mr Hereward!

You know where the phone is.
Go and ring Nonnatus House!

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

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

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

Or you making yourself late for Scouts.

Mrs Turner?

We went to the seaside at the weekend.

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

Including Susan.

And then I heard the news.

The news?

About Sister Evangelina.

Oh.

You're saying I took a pill?

Just one pill could do this to my baby?

- How many did you take, Rhoda?
- I don't know!

My sister gave me some in an envelope.
She said they'd help me sleep.

Better than a gin, she said.

And I don't have gin in,
we're on a budget!

I dunno how many I took!

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

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

What sort of questions?

"Why did you take 'em, Rhoda?

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

"Why'd you have to have a stupid pill
to make you happy all the time?"

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

Oh!

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

I first heard him say that
when she was about four months old.

And I thought, "That's it,

"we're gonna be all right."

Susan's gonna be all right,
because her daddy loves her.

And then, the very next day,

some mate of his from work crossed over
the street because he saw us coming,

and I never heard him say "beautiful"
again for ever such a long time.

And then yesterday at the seaside...

Bernie would've been the one
to cross over once.

Maybe I would've, too.

But he can't.

I can't. Not now. Because she's ours.

I'm sorry, Susan.

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

Come on, Noelle! That's it!

Why's it taking so long?

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

Come on.

- It's a little boy, Noelle.
- Oh, he's beautiful.

And that dress is ruined.

That dress just had
the best day of its life.

- It's a boy, Mitchell!
- Oh!

Oh...

Oh!

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

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

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

Thank you.

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

The coffin does look so very bare.

Sister Evangelina went to her rest

surrounded by her colleagues

and mourned by people she had nursed,

wheeled through streets imprinted
with her footsteps and her faith.

They mark her spirit
as well as any bloom,

and deserve their rest as much as she.

If she was looking down that day,

she would've been surprised
to see she was no longer there,

and vexed that service
had come to a standstill.

The world was hers no longer,

and she wanted no memorial.

But her work carried on

in the love that lived beyond her,

and the hope that knew no end.

Ripped By mstoll