Call the Midwife (2012–…): Season 2, Episode 8 - Episode #2.8 - full transcript

Sister Bernadette leaves hospital, having renounced her vows and ready to start life with Dr Turner. Jimmy returns to work in Poplar, happy with fatherhood, and introduces Jenny to his friend Alec, with whom she goes on a date. Another visitor is Fred's pregnant daughter Dolly, with her little son, but when she needs a brief hospital stay, Fred is literally left holding the baby. Fortunately, Chummy is a huge help but she has her own doubts about what sort of mother she will be and news that the convent will be bulldozed with other buildings to make way for development unsettles all the nurses. Both women give birth successfully - though for one it is touch and go.

'With the return of Chummy,

'and her impending new arrival,

'life at Nonnatus House felt full
of excitement and fresh promise.

'If clouds were gathering
we could not see them.

'And if the winds of change
were blowing...

'we had yet to feel the breeze.

'To us, the skies were blue.

'It was a warm and fruitful autumn

'and we took pleasure in assuming

'all was safely gathered in.'

I have to say,



it's frightfully kind of your ma
to send all these baby clothes.

Were these really all yours,
Cynthia?

I think my little brother
wore some of them,

but they've been gathering dust
for years.

Mother was telling me
that the mother of pearl

buttons on the cardigans
originally came from her...

wedding dress.

Oh, no!

Oh, hang me, draw me,
quarter me, Cynthia!

It was a family heirloom,

you should never have trusted me
with it.

I'd have sooner wrapped
Baby in brown paper.

The morning post's arrived.

There's one for me!



It's from Sister Bernadette,
in the Sana...

Sanatorium.

It's a picture!
Called The View From My Window.

She says, "Thank you very much
for the dead butterfly,

"I have passed it onto the doctors
here and I am awaiting

"their verdict.

"Thank your father
for his kind letters,

"I shall reply to them
in due course."

What does "in due course" mean?

Sometimes, it means one day
and, sometimes, it means soon.

Off you go now.
You'll be late for school.

Remember, Sister Monica Joan
is not to be permitted to answer

the telephone.

So, whoever is on call
must sit within earshot

and sight of the desk.

We do try.

It's getting harder and harder
to keep her occupied...

Chummy needs things
for the new arrival.

If we organised wool and needles,

Sister Monica Joan
could be knitting baby clothes.

The only child they'd fit
would be the mutant infant

from the Planet Of The Martians!

Put her on blanket squares.

Blanket squares?
She'd be bored to tears!

She could knit them in her sleep,
just like any fool.

Then she can sew them altogether,

and some deserving person
will get a lovely bedspread.

Dolly?!

What's taken you so long?
I've been on pins all day.

It's a five-hour drive from Gosport,
Dad. Pat on the back would be nice.

Well, you haven't driven all the way
yourself? Where's your husband?

He got a ship! Straight off,
day after his discharge.

Merchant Navy ain't like the Royal,
you get a charge,

you have to jump to.

But, Dolly, you know perfectly well
you're in a...

interesting condition.

It's not that interesting.

Little scamp kept kicking me
in the bladder,

made me drive all the faster!

Oh, I'm embarrassing
you now, aren't I?

Come on, give us a kiss,
you daft old bugger.

So, where d'you get this from?

I hired it, out our savings.
Come on!

Ahh! Look, one grandson.
Here you go.

Hey, hey! Hello, little fella!

He's got a name, Dad. Anthony.

Yeah, I know what you called him.

Come on, let's get you inside.

Whoa-hoa!
You're a big boy, ain't ya?

You do realise we'll be coming
to inspect your marital quarters

soon, Chummy,

making sure they're suitable
for home delivery and so forth!

Meanwhile, you're going to need
a few more baby nighties, Chummy.

Time to set to with the Singer!

Baby's wardrobe's going to have
to get in the queue, I'm afraid.

I still have to finish the maternity
edition of my nurses uniform.

Are you sure
you feel up to working, Chummy?

You've only a few weeks to go...

Oh, but I'm absolutely brimming with
beans. We're terribly shorthanded!

I can't spend another day
sitting round on my posterior,

watching the rest of you
tie yourself in knots.

Gosh.

It rather reminds me of the night
before a tiger shoot in Rajputan.

I could never sleep a wink,
once all the nets and guns

had been laid out on the verandah.

Chummy, you're having a baby,
not taking up blood sports!

Excuse me.

Sorry.

Only, er,
somebody's in the bathroom,

and they've been there for ages.

I think it might be a nun.

Sorry.

I say, is there anybody in there?

Yes, me!

Can a woman
not have a bath in peace?

Sorry, Sister.

What a good thing that
the Great Silence does not, in fact,

commence for another 33 seconds,

because it just gives me time
to warn you that my Sisters

and I will not want
to come in here ever again

and find the seat of a certain item
standing upright!

Oh, Sister Evangelina,
I absolutely prom-...

It's not for long.
It's for long enough.

Oh, this wretched girdle!

I've a bally good mind
to write to Playtex.

Steady.

There.

Trixie, show me how to start it.

I know you know.

Engine trouble. Fetch a whip
and thrash it like a horse!

Jimmy!

Hello, Jen!

Back from the tropics, Chummy?
Rather.

And no jokes about excess baggage.
I'm afraid we've heard them

all before.
You must both be rather thirsty,

after brandishing that theodolite
around all morning.

I should say so!

Can we persuade you
to accept refreshments?

You'll have to bring them out here.
We're under contract to the Council,

and I strongly suspect
they have us followed.

No sneaking indoors,
in the wake of pretty nurses, sadly.

Sorry, ladies.

This is Alec Jesmonde,
my colleague and partner in crime.

This is Trixie and Chummy,
both stalwarts of the nursing scene.

And this is Jenny,
whom I've known forever.

Hello.

Hello.

So, will it be tea, or Nescafe?

Tea for me, if it's no trouble.

And he'll have Nescafe,
strong enough to stand a spoon in.

Almond sponge!

Mrs B made you a cherry slab,
as well,

but Sister Monica Joan
chose to spare it the journey.

Sister. I had a set
of X-rays taken yesterday.

And I've responded so well
to the triple treatment

I no longer have active disease.

I'm going to be discharged
next week, to convalesce at home.

Oh, that is the most wonderful news!

The difficulty is...

that I'm still not
entirely certain where my home is...

or ought to be.

Well, until you are certain,

your home is with us,
amongst your sisters.

Could I trouble you
for some clothes?

Clothes? Have you none here?

Only the habit.

And I don't feel able
to wear that now.

I don't remember
you liking strong coffee.

Exhaustion of the new parent.
Boy or girl?

Little girl. Caroline Francesca.

Do you know, Jenny? That
little baby's the sweetest thing

I ever saw.

She's got these lips that look
as if she's about to kiss you.

And sometimes,
when I bend over her cot,

her hands sort of startle
and spread out like little starfish.

So it's turned out all right, then?

More all right than I dared hope.

You've made a full recovery
from your illness?

I don't have to ask you that.
I can see with my trained eye.

I've good reason
to be grateful to your trained eye.

I didn't do anything.

You didn't leave my side.

I've grown to love nursing
more and more.

I find myself feeling
quite passionate about it -

what I can learn,
what I can achieve.

It's become the thing
that matters most to me.

Really?

Yes, really.

I would have thought there might
be some lucky chap on the scene,

making your heart beat faster,
all of that.

No.

Pity. I don't think so.

There's some badly-spalled brick
on the front elevation.

You might need
to come in close on that.

Why ARE you taking photographs?

Just making an inventory
of the buildings in the district.

Great Gothic hulks,
like these, are on their way
to being historic curiosities.

When I first arrived,
I was terrified.

Kept thinking a cloud of bats
was going to fly out of the window.

Feels like home, now.

Smile for the birdie!

Oh, Dad,
what d'you have to wear a suit for?

You smell of mothballs.

I'm not bringing you just anywhere.

Nurse Noakes!

What-ho, Fred.
Oh, and this must be Dolly!

We've heard such a lot about you.
You can come straight through.

Don't give me special treatment,
just on account of His Nibs.

Not at all.
You timed it like a dream.

'Ere.

Oh!

Oh, here ya go.

So it's been decided that
Sister Bernadette will not be

returning to us for the meanwhile,
but will go to Chichester

as a house guest, while she considers
her future with the Order. But why
would she want to leave, at all?

Why would she give up now, when it's
been her life for so many years?

"I have desired to go
where springs not fail

"to fields where fly no sharp
and sided hail,

"And a few lilies blow..."

Keep your head down,
and get on with your knitting.

Six squares do not a blanket make.

Gerard Manley Hopkins
was not a professed religious,

yet he perceived the motives
of many who choose holy orders.

And yet springs do fail,
and hail does fall,

sharp enough to make us bleed.

Sister Bernadette is not
suffering a loss of faith.

But she has come to question
what God requires of her.

Beyond that,
I'm not prepared to comment.

I don't know why you don't let me
make a stand for that bath.

You'll do your back in,
all that kneeling down.

Dad, he'd have it tipped over
in no time!

Oh, I made one for your mum,
and she was glad of it, I tell ya.

I often think of her at bath time.

Ye. Happy memories.

They're the best ones,
I'm telling you.

I drove past
the bombsite on me way over

and it brought back
the Blitz, like it was yesterday.

Me and Marlene being lifted out
the rubble by a policeman,

still in our nighties.

I should've been there, Doll.

You were fighting a war, Dad,

trying to stop that
sort of thing from happening.

And it did stop happening,
in the end.

Sister Bernadette's suitcase.

Found it in the store room.

Logged in the book,
1st of July, 1948.

All her paperwork is here on file.

She came straight
from the Nurse's Home at the London

and was here from her first day
as a postulant.

The National Health was about
to start, and she was needed.

Utility shoes.

She can't go walking out
into the world in these!

Or any of this. She'll look dated.

Dated, and out of place!
People will stare.

These are the only things
in the world that belong to her.

And she has asked for them.

I remember when she took First Vows,

chose her religious name,

I thought she'd had
her head turned by that film.

We had a lot of that in the '40s.
Young girls would come here

and you'd wonder what brought them.

Was it The Lord,
the War or The Song Of Bernadette?

At least they came.

New vocations are dwindling,
by the year.

Well, no good grousing,
we must trust to Him.

I'll give these shoes
a once over. Smell damp to me.

I say!

I've come to ask about that scooter.
Is it still broken down?

I believe so, yes.

Well, I brought my toolkit along.

I haven't had my hands on a scooter
since I was living in Rome,

and I'd love to play my part
in restoring it to glory.

It's the property of the Order.

You'll have to talk
to Sister Julienne.

Pack! Pack! Pack!

Will you all put a sock in it?!

Have a bit of respect
for your Akela.

Today, we're starting
work on our Handicraft badge.

Ohhh...

Yes. We're going to be learning
the Japanese art of paper folding.

Booo...

And Dr Turner has kindly agreed
to come along and show us all

how to make an origami frog!

And here he is!

Sorry I'm late.

Timothy, there's a box
of paper squares on top of the piano,

make sure everyone gets one.

And I want you to concentrate
very hard on Dr Turner's

instructions, because if you follow
them correctly, there's a simply

marvellous bit at the end, where you
get to blow into a frog's bottom...

and make it three dimensional.

Sleepy boy.

Now, you should have something
that looks a bit like a diamond.

If you fold each of the four sides
inwards, making a long sharp crease

with your thumbnail, you should
start to see the legs take shape.

I reckon mine's got three!

Dad!

I'm not making you
a packed tea again,

if you're going to keep leaving it
on the draining board!

Ah, I come straight from Nonnatus!
Evening, Nurse.

Wouldn't mind, only there's
a steak pie in there. Homemade.

I was all day stood in the kitchen,
prising tubing out of kidneys.

My feet are that swollen,
I had to come here in me slippers!

May I see?

Got some right funny looks,
I can tell you.

I need you to take
a quick tinkle... in this.

But that's a good teacup!

I need to carry out
some routine tests.

If everything's shipshape,

you can just pop along to clinic
as usual on Tuesday.

All right... I don't suppose
you got any aspirin in there?

Me head's splitting.

Oh, hello! The, um, problem
seems to be with the choke lever.

It's come adrift from the carburettor
on the right side of the engine.

Gosh. No wonder it won't go.

Well, I've had
to unscrew the air filter,

so I can access the connection point.

I'll tell Sister Julienne.

She said to say
thank you for your help,

and to bring you
some tea and biscuits.

Ah, biscuits? Marvellous.

Garibaldi, I'm afraid.

We used to call them fly cemeteries,
when we were kids.

So did we!

We were always pleased
to see them, though.

Any port in a storm,
during rationing.

If I get this engine going,

I'll need to take it for a spin,
to make sure it's properly tuned.

You can come with me if you like.

I'm afraid I'm on call.

Which would make it most improper.

Stop kicking him, Jack.

Come on lads, left to right.
Really sharp folds...

Sit still. No skylarking. Gary!

I shall be back in two shakes
of a lamb's tail.

Now, if you've been following
the instructions correctly,

you should have something
that looks like this.

It looks nothing like a frog!

It looks like a tortoise
what's been run over!

Ah, what you have to do now
is turn it around this way,

blow into the hole...

And lo and behold!

A fully inflatable,
three-dimensional amphibian!

Doctor Turner. May I trouble you
to come into the kitchen? Of course.

I don't need all this fuss!
I walked round here no bother!

Dolly.

As Doctor explained,
toxaemia is a treatable condition,

but we do need to get you somewhere
where you can rest in peace

and quiet, and where Doctor
can carry out more tests.

What about Anthony?

Well, I'm quite sure
you can leave him to Grandpa.

A baby will be a cakewalk compared
to the boiler at Nonnatus House.

What about me?

Go and help Bagheera
with the clearing up.

I'm in.

Your Granddad's boy, yes you are.

Yeah, that's it, lad.
Put some wellie into it.

I've had to learn to be good at all
sorts of things since my mum died.

My dad says,
"Learn to be independent.

"One day you might be on your own."

Uh-oh...

Uhhhhh!

I've been overdoing it, that's all.

I know
it's a perfectly beastly shock.

And so unfair.

It's frightfully uncommon to have
toxaemia with a second babe,

when all went smoothly
with the first.

I'm worried my Dad won't know
what to do with Anthony.

Come, come.

When I was at school, I had this
perfectly terrifying old matron,

but she used to say,
if ever one found oneself in a tight

squeeze, one could keep
one's composure by reciting slowly

Psalm 123, taking deep breaths
between each line.

I don't know Psalm 123.

Well, I'm quite sure your
favourite song would do the trick.

♪ Catch a falling star

♪ And put it in your pocket

♪ Never let it fade away. ♪

Bravo! Deep breaths.

♪ Catch a falling star

♪ And put it in your pocket

♪ Save it for a rainy day. ♪

That sounds far more jolly
than a dreary old psalm.

I shall have to listen out
for it on the wireless.

When did this come?

This morning.
There's been no warning.

No indication of any kind.

It's not enough we've had all the
shenanigans with Sister Bernadette,

this just puts the tin hat on it!

Sister...

I suggest we keep this to ourselves

until the situation
becomes a little clearer.

Wakey-wakey, campers.
Rise and shine!

Already had breakfast in bed.

And I put you down
for the knobbly knees contest.

Oh, 'ello!

What you washed him in? Silvikrin.

All over? Dad, it's shampoo!

Fred, I'm sorry,
but you're interrupting bed rest.

Sorry, Doctor.
But I won't get any rest wondering

what bloody buggerlugs
is up to with my baby!

Men aren't totally incompetent,
Mrs Smart. And babies do bounce.

Only when you drop 'em!

Doctor, I've just
had a tiny thoughtette.

Dolly, if you could get
a bally good look at Anthony

for two whole minutes every day,
at precisely the same time -

say eleven o'clock in the morning -
would that be enough to reassure you?

Well, that depends, don't it?

But if everything
was in apple-pie order,

with Anthony spotlessly clean,
well-fed and beaming?

Wouldn't that make you feel better?
Yeah... I s'pose.

Well, Nurse Noakes
clearly has a plan.

And I'm sure
nobody's going to argue with her.

Come on, then.

I won't give up!

On the carburettor
or the choke lever?

On you!

My ultimate goal is to take you out,

but quite frankly,
I'd settle for a smile.

You'll have to excuse me.
I'm on my rounds.

The day has dawned.
Arrange a toll of bells.

What's happening?
I can't get my girdle on.

D'you want me to pull on the straps?

Peter, Charles Atlas
could pull on the straps,

they'd never meet across this tum!

And that's the end of that.

Yes.

What's it the start of?

I think it's perfectly absurd.

Sister Monica Joan's supposed
to be knitting blanket squares,

to keep her out of bother.

But she's slowing down.

So she'll never knit enough
to make a whole blanket,

and realise it's all make believe.

Can't imagine who would want
such a repellent thing, in any case.

Nonnatus House, midwife speaking.

Hello, Trixie.

Oh, hello, Jimmy.

I thought your hour of need
had passed.

Can I speak to Jenny, please?

Hello, Jimmy.

Jenny! Listen...

Some friends and I have put
a bit of jazz group together

and we've persuaded
Caesar Jack's club to let us
do a set on Thursday night.

I didn't know
you played any instruments.

I tried the double bass
and settled on the drums.

The thing is, Jen, we're going
to look like utter chumps,

if no-one turns up to hear us.
And I hoped you might bring
some of your friends along.

Well, I'm not sure
how many I could muster.

Bring anyone. Bring the nuns.

Tell them I'll give them free beer.

Well, I...

We'll have a Babycham, thank you
very much, and we expect to see them

lined up at the bar, with
a whisky chaser for Sister Julienne.

Marvellous!

Well, Dolly, I was always
an utter dunce at maths,

but even I can see these measurements
are shaping up delightfully.

You given much thought to names yet?

Oh, gosh, no. Far too busy!

I take it Anthony
was called after his papa?

Oh, no, after me father-in-law.

My dad went mad. Well, silent mad.

He never said nothing at the time,

but I don't reckon he's said it
from that day to this.

He always calls him The Nipper.

Oh, but he absolutely dotes on him!

I don't doubt it.

It's a funny old fandangle, family.

Sometimes, I'm telling you,
it's like trying to plait soot.

Yes. I suppose it is.

For pity's sake, Jenny,
stop pulling your sweater down.

People will think
you've had some sort of an accident!

Trixie, I never go out
for the evening in slacks!

I believe Princess Margaret
does it all the time.

See? Even Jane knows
what's what in a jazz club.

I read an article in Woman's Own.

That's why I'm wearing
a polo neck sweater.

Jimmy!

Thank you!

Jenny! Jenny! Babycham.

Jane. Drink. Oh. Thank you.

I had a letter from Mater today.

That's nice.

She enclosed a cheque for ten pounds,

said she hoped things
wouldn't be too frightful,

and closed by saying
she was dashing off to bridge.

Madeira's a long way off.

For which, mercy may we give thanks.

She was never going
to pitch up with a cold chicken

and rinse baby's napkins through.

But I feel so frightfully
disconnected from any sort of...

advice.

I was trying to think
of nursery rhymes today -

songs my mother taught me,
all of that.

The only lullabies
I know are in Hindi!

I shall look forward to that.

Peter...

What have we got to give this child?

We've no proper home. No money.
Not much in the way of family,

now your parents have moved
to Walton-on-the-Naze.

You're going to be
a wonderful mother, Camilla.

You're a nurse,
you've got half the skills off pat.

Oh, yes. Well, you just wait
till I give myself castor oil

and advisory pamphlets!

Have you got any pamphlets
on how to calm down?

You're working all the hairs
from the brush into the gloss.

Sorry.

Another two Babychams
and a bitter lemon, please.

Who's drinking bitter lemon?

Me.

Meanwhile, Cynthia
isn't drinking anything

because she doesn't like
the toilets.

I am sorry I didn't tell you
Alec was in the band.

He really likes you.

I don't like being bullied
into things.

Jenny, I'm on your side.
Can't you see that?

You said it to me once -
you're my friend,

and I want you to be happy.

And, one day - maybe this week,
maybe next year -

you're going to be happy
with someone else.

And I'm going to be glad.

I see.

Jen, I'm determined to be glad!

Falling for someone
would set you free!

From a life of drinking bitter lemon
and your own daft rules,

if nothing else!

Three and four pence, please, miss.

He'll get these.

And have a double for yourself.

Thank you very much.
A... another one. Of course.

I'm afraid we're going
to have to dance together

or I'll never hear the end of it.

And neither,
I strongly suspect, will you.

Do you want to dance?

No. Not really.

But dancing seems to be
the thing that people do

when they don't want to be
thought rude, or stand-offish, or...

whatever unfortunate impression
I might have given so far.

Dancing is what people do when...

They think
they might quite like each other?

Yes.

This might be
the very last night of clear skies.

People will be lighting fires soon,
for winter,

and every inch of heaven
will be engulfed in smog.

I can see The Plough.

Oh, yes.

The Plough was
my very first constellation.

I think mine was The Plaiedes.

The Seven Sisters?

I liked the idea
of a cluster of girls,

all clinging together,
in the middle of the heavens.

Can you see
the handle of The Plough? Yes.

Keep looking
and tell me what you see.

It's not one star, it's two,
almost overlapping!

Alcor and Mizar.

Congratulations,

you've just passed the eyesight
test for the Roman army.

I thought about that when I went
to do my National Service.

It certainly beat reading
the alphabet backwards off a card,

but there was also
something grimly consoling,

knowing that 2,000 years ago

some other
poor conscripts stood there,

vaguely hoping they might fail.

Will you wake the nuns,
when you let yourself in?

I don't want you on bread
and water for a fortnight.

It's almost dawn,
they'll be up already.

We keep strange hours
at Nonnatus House.

How long have the sisters been here?

Since 1899, I think.

D'you know where they'll go next?

It's all they can do
to serve the people here.

I don't think
they're planning to expand.

I meant after the demolition.

Demolition?

It's under
a compulsory purchase order.

This land's been earmarked
for a new through-road.

♪ Blessed child from above

♪ His comfort, life and fire of love

♪ They gave our faith

♪ Perpetual light

♪ The darkness of our guided sight

♪ Father, Son and Holy Spirit

♪ Amen. ♪

I can't believe it! I just can't!

I think it's perfectly ridiculous
banging on about faith

when the wrecker's ball's
hanging over our heads!

It's not just Nonnatus House.

There's a question mark
over the parish hall, too!

We're here to serve the mothers
and babies of the district.

What are we supposed to do?
Put up a Big Top in Victoria Park?

Yes, and you can buy yourself
a caravan, while you're about it,

cos you, Peter and the babe
are going to need somewhere to live!

We'll be like Flanagan and Allen -
Underneath The Arches!

That's about as much of a joke
as I can manage today,

so please don't start singing.

Oh, dear.
Do you suppose it's her hormones?

I feel like bursting into tears
and I'm not 38 weeks pregnant.

Right...

Petri dishes, test tubes, pipettes.

I want you to count them,
list them, and wash them.

I hate half-term.

Morning.

'I've been discharged.'

Sister Bernadette?

'I'm supposed
to go to Chichester, but I won't.'

Why's that?

I thought...

for a long time,
that I was in the wrong place.

I wasn't.
I was just living the wrong life.

I wrote to you.

Yes.

I don't know if I said too much.

Or, or not enough.

You said... what was necessary.

And I'm coming back to Poplar.

When?

Today.

There are procedures
to be gone through.

But it'll be months
before you're fully fit!

'You need to rest
and to convalesce.'

I've had enough rest to kill a mule!

And I know my own mind,
for the first time in many months,

which I find
remarkably invigorating.

I'm on my way to catch the bus.

You are not travelling 30 miles

'by public transport!
Sister Bernadette...'

Forgive me.

But I don't answer
to that name any more.

Can I help you, Nurse?

I wondered if you wouldn't mind
taking a quick peep at Dolly Smart?

One moment.

I'm sorry.

'I really am. But... duty calls.'

I understand.

Well, it looks as though
things might be on the move,

but he's in a good position
for delivery.

Nurse Lee is due in shortly.
I've already drawn up instructions

for management of labour,

so I shall leave you in
the capable hands of Nurse Noakes.

You're lucky,
she's one of our finest.

You're meant
to be washing equipment.

I've finished,
and you owe me half a crown.

I thought I'd come with you
on your rounds.

I'm not going on my rounds.

Wotcha, Doll! Dad! Do you know how
to send a shore-to-ship telegram?
Why do you want to know?

Because I'm in bloody labour,
aren't I?

You're going to be sending
your son-in-law some news!

What about that, then!?

What about that, then!?

If I see her, shall I shout at her?

Stop! Sister Bernadette!

No. Leave the talking to me.

Dolly, I think the best thing would
be if I break your waters for you.

It'll speed things up a little.

Bravo!

Are you all right?

Never better. Just getting swept
along, in the excitement of it all.

I want you to breathe deeply
for me, Dolly.

That's it.

That's it.

This is it now, Dolly!

Squealing like a piglet,
just the way we like them!

Dad! There's a woman in the wrong
clothes and I think it's her.

What if it had started raining?

What if you'd got lost?

I WAS lost. I got the wrong bus.

I was on the right road.

Yes.

I know you so little,
but I couldn't be more certain.

I am completely certain.

I don't even know your name.

Shelagh.

Patrick.

There.

We've made a start.

Attention, old chap.

Another grandchild, to add to
your small, but growing, collection.

Right little bruiser, this one.

Chip off the old block,
a proper little boxer's face.

Actually, it's a little girl.

A bit of swelling
around the eyes is quite normal.

Dolly say
what she is going to call her?

No. I daresay Freda's a possibility.

You know something?

She can call her what she likes.

It's all just labels,
really, innit, eh?

Like on tins of fruit.

I grew up in my bare feet.

My dad spent more on beer
than he did on shoe leather.

I used to think, when I have kids,
I'm going give them shoes,

hot dinners, 'appy home...

and I managed all three...

until Hitler intervened.

When the bomb dropped,
I weren't there.

And that's what makes you
a parent, Nurse Noakes.

Proximity.

They don't sell that in the shops.

No.

You all right, Nurse?

Chummy. Something tells me
your working day is over.

Something tells me yours isn't.

One delivery pack
on its way to the first floor!

Water's hotting up
and I'm bringing more towels.

We can't give Chummy an enema!
She's our friend.

If you don't do it, I will.

Come on Chummy! On the bed.

"High, hot and a hell of a lot!"

No. No. You absolute beasts!

Chummy, you'll have to surrender
or Sister Evangelina will come

and do it.

And I wouldn't put it past her
to chuck in extra soap!

Can't we just pretend?

Send out a chamber pot with a cloth
draped over it, like a sort of ruse?

Breathe it away Chummy,
breathe it away.

Everything that you handed over

when you entered the Order
was held in trust for your lifetime,

or until such time
as you renounced your vows.

I don't want anything back.
I've been given so much...

This is the procedure
we must follow.

There is something in the region
of £100 to be returned to you,

once you have signed
the final papers.

If you would like some quiet time,

you're welcome to use the chapel
before you leave.

Thank you, Sister.

But I have so many things to do.

Very well.

May God bless you,
my dear, good friend.

And may He bless you, too.

Is there any news?

It's a baby,
not a lubricated penguin,

they don't come sliding out,
to order.

And you needn't think we'll be
running in with meals on trays.

You get peckish,
you ask directions to the bread bin.

That's it. That's it...

The bally things just go on and on.

You're doing brilliantly, Chummy.

We'll examine you
in a minute or two,

and see how things are progressing.

I wouldn't thumb my nose
at a spot of pethidine.

Of course. We'll get it organised.

Waters... I felt my waters.

Get Sister Julienne.

I need an ambulance, please.

'Can I have the address, please?'

Nonnatus House,
Leyland Street, Poplar.

'Can you give me anymore details?'

It's a suspected
placental abruption.

The mother has haemorrhaged.

'Has the baby been born?'

No. She's still in labour.

'And baby's heartbeat?'

As far as we know,
the baby's still alive.

We need her on her left side

to increase the blood
supply to the baby.

Come on Chummy, that's it.
That's it.

Oxygen.

It's all right. It's all right.

And she needs pethidine!

Here.

Breath deeply.
This will help you and the baby.

Try to keep calm. Chummy, stay calm.

♪ Catch a falling star... ♪

What?

Catch a falling star?

Never let it...

fade away...

Just one of you, please.

Go on.

And you make sure you hold her hand!

'Nonnatus House...'

I've watched people
do this time after time.

Sitting waiting for news,

not knowing, hoping.

Never really known what they felt...

until now.

She's still in theatre.

There was another haemorrhage.

We haven't got
a telephone number for Madeira.

Her family don't even know
what's happened.

Yes, they do.

Chummy's family's here in this room.

'Throughout
that endless day and night,

'as we waited for news
that didn't come,

'it seemed we had never been closer,

'never more subsumed
into a single task.

'Many find the concept
of holy silence puzzling.

'But as we worked and prayed,

there was no need to speak, at all.'

How is she?

Camilla.

We've got a little boy.

A boy?

Hello, little bean.

It's all right, I'm here.

Hello, Patrick.

Hello, Shelagh.

This is for you.

From me. And somebody else.

"Please will you marry my dad?"

'Through the telescope of memory,

'I see now the convent
was our pole star,

'a guiding light
for those who worked there

'and the people that we served.'

'Dolly's little girl
was christened Samantha,

'a rather modern name, to which some
people never became accustomed.'

'But Chummy called her baby Fred,

'after the man who showed her
the simplicity of parenthood.'

'Nonnatus House was threatened,
but its spirit was not shaken.'

'And that spirit would continue
to shelter and inspire.'

'I have never forgotten it,

'any more than I forget
the days it gave me.

'The days when the world
was new and bright.

'The days
when I was delirious with joy.'

You all right?

'When I ached with love...

'..and when my soul went questing.'