Call the Midwife s09e01 Episode Script

Series 9, Episode 1

1 MOTHER MOANS That's it.
LOUD BANG That's it! Flamin' wrecking ball's been going all afternoon! Just rest for a moment.
The family downstairs have sent more candles, as well as hot water.
You have good neighbours.
Shame there's hardly any of them left.
Use all of your strength now, Nola.
Use all of it.
SHE GRUNTS All of it! BABY CRIES MATURE JENNIFER: Where do we begin? What marks the start of any new adventure? Aren't you the clever one? You've brought a whole new life into the world! Is it the first step? The deep breath? The single leap of faith? And what do we leave behind us when the future calls? East Coast girls are hip Right, that's it! No ifs, no buts.
I'm going to take the plunge with my new electric lady shaver.
Are you sure you know what you're doing, Trixie? You could take your whole shin off if you're not careful.
Even a modest risk to life and limb is better than blonde hair poking through one's hosiery.
I sometimes wonder how we afford hosiery at all! Tights cost even more than stockings, not to mention they ladder as soon as you look at them.
Maybe we should just wear wool, like we did in the Outer Hebrides.
Valerie! It's not like you to be so defeatist.
Another placenta for disposal, neatly wrapped up in The Racing Post! Once, we'd simply burn them in the bedroom fireplace.
Or sent them down to the allotments, as tomato food.
RADIO: We interrupt the current broadcast with an important announcement.
Sir Winston Churchill, Britain's Prime Minister during World War II, has died at his home in London's Hyde Park Gate at the age of 90.
Poor old soul! Sir Winston suffered a stroke nine days ago.
The announcement was made this morning by Sir Winston's physician, Lord Moran.
Did you hear that, Nurse Crane? Her Majesty the Queen and the Prime Minister have been informed.
Old Winnie! He's finally pegged it! Couldn't go on beating the odds forever! And now the shipping forecast.
It's what came after the war that really changed society.
And the National Health Service was nothing to do with Churchill, or his political party.
Patrick, I think we should leave politics out of it today.
The man has left a widow and ten grandchildren! There's a carrot here for Flopsy.
Nothing for poor old Genevieve? We can't send Flopsy back to the girls' classroom looking anything other than supremely groomed and well nourished, or they won't be allowed to bring her home again.
PHONE RINGS Oh! - Hello, Tim? - Hi, Dad.
The headmaster's cut all our calls home down to three minutes because we've got to have some special assembly for Winston Churchill.
I think that's very appropriate.
Did you get the cake? Quick, children, your brother's on the phone! I sent you a Dundee so it would last.
It lasted about five minutes.
Boys in boarding school get very hungry.
- But I came top in that biology test.
- Come on, May! - Genevieve! - Say well done to your brother, children.
Well done, Timothy.
I've no objection to the old war horse getting a full state funeral.
But if we all go traipsing off to watch the cortège passing by, what's going to happen to our patients? That was the warden from the homeless shelter in Rakesby Street.
There's a lady in labour.
She isn't on our books, but things seem to be moving quickly.
We'll hop in my car and go together.
I've heard unsavoury tales about that place.
Bed bugs.
In the walls.
You can actually hear them.
I've been laying on my back like a tipped-over tortoise.
I'm scared to move in case it speeds things up.
Don't you worry now.
We'll soon see how fast you're getting on.
And who's this young man sitting so politely behind the clothes horse? It's my Terry.
He don't like missing school, but he wants to look after me.
We'll take care of your mother now, Terry.
- You get yourself off to your lessons.
- Can I? You heard the nurse.
Stopping here ain't going to get you through the 11-plus and into grammar school, is it? No.
Capital of Rhodesia.
Salisbury! Closest planet to the Earth.
Venus! I bought us a Pears' Cyclopaedia down the market.
And we go through it every night.
What year was this place built? 1860, I believe.
May I ask what you are doing? Council survey.
Slum clearance.
- Are we going inside? - No need.
They'll be taking it down soon.
SHE SIGHS BELL RINGS In you go, one by one.
Come along, Terry.
You're late.
I think we can safely say it was a false alarm, and you've weathered it.
But you're registered with us as of today.
Next time you sense things are on the move, we're ready and waiting to help you.
Have you any plans for moving on from here? Oh, we've been on the list for a council flat for seven months.
You see 'em being built all over the place, but I swear to God, I don't know how anyone ever gets to live in 'em.
Seven months! Seven months living in squalor like that.
PHONE RINGS Can't you book her into the maternity home for a square meal, a bath and bed rest? That was my first thought.
But she's no-one to leave the little lad with, and he'll end up in foster care.
- The Housing Officer's on the phone.
- Hm.
The reference is Mrs Dena Bowland and her son Terence.
Address - Homeless Unit, Rakesby Street, Poplar.
An appalling, insanitary facility over which I imagine you yourself might claim some sort of jurisdiction? Whatever are you doing? Lunch hour's almost over! My mother will be looking out for me on the newsreels of the funeral.
I don't want her to think I'm looking tired and puffy.
Well, while you two have been busy preparing yourselves for the spotlight of history, I've found the perfect solution to our mutual hosiery dilemma! SHE CLEARS THROA "How perfect are your pins? "You can win a year's supply of Slender Legs tights "by sending us a snap of your gorgeous gams.
"Individual and group categories.
Free to enter!" Well, you're the one who's been working overtime with the lady shave.
I would've thought you're a shoo-in for first prize.
And I'm not sending pictures into any magazine, so don't ask me.
Lucille, your ankles are exquisite! Cyril positively gazes at them! It isn't an ankle competition.
It's a leg competition.
And legs go all the way up to other parts of the anatomy.
We've all got biology O-Level, Lucille.
And we would be in with a chance of free tights.
Thank you, Valerie.
I'm glad to see somebody's exhibiting a sense of fun.
One lady due to give birth moved right up the waiting list and offered the keys to a flat! THEY LAUGH May you be garlanded with laurels! Oh, Fred! I thought you were getting the tea ready! I'll be late for the pest control sub-committee meeting.
I'm just sorting out my medals for the big feller's send off.
I haven't decided what hat to wear yet.
Probably my artificial beaver, because we shall be stood on that street for nigh on seven hours! It's funny what people take with them when they go.
And what they bring back.
That's a lovely picture of Betty.
A lovely smile.
Teeth like that were a rarity, round here.
Bloody Blitz.
I've been thinking about my Bert, too.
But we've got to think about what we've got now, Fred.
Life is better than it's ever been.
For everyone.
Let me rub my steam iron over these ribbons.
BELL CHIMES Lucille, if your principles, which I respect, prevent you from participating as an individual, why don't you enter the Wonderful Legs In The Workplace section with Valerie and I? What does that entail? Just us three, posing in our uniforms, flying the flag for smart, professional ladies who need free tights.
It's about esprit de corps, Lucille.
Taking pride in who we are and what we stand for.
Like today! I'll do it to please you.
Just don't try to persuade me that it's patriotic.
TV: It's time to see the long procession.
To everything Turn, turn, turn There is a season Turn, turn, turn And a time to every purpose Under heaven A time to be born, a time to die A time to plant, a time to reap A time to kill, a time to heal A time to laugh, a time to weep Three, two, one! SHUTTER CLICKS That's it! What's next? Instruments.
Cheese! To everything Turn, turn, turn There is a season Turn, turn, turn And a time to every purpose The power's gone off.
All right, Sister.
Try flicking the switch again.
- Oh! - Eh! Goodnight.
DISTANT CRY BABY CRIES Oh! Oh, no! Oh, no, no, no! It's all right, little one.
I've gotcha.
BABY CRIES I've gotcha! Her temperature's improved.
And I think she has been fed not long before she was abandoned.
She vomited quite a bit of milk.
Looking at the cord, she's more than 24 hours old.
Although I don't know what it was tied with.
It looks like purple sewing thread.
Not a hospital deliver and not done by a professional either.
I feel as sorry for the mother as I do for the child.
KNOCKING Sergeant Woolf's here.
Here we go.
Come on.
REPORTER: A little bit higher.
Every London hospital has been asked to be on the alert for anyone arriving in casualty with post-birth complications and no appropriate referral.
I don't want anything going into the press that would make the mother too scared to seek help if she needs it.
Dr Turner wants her to go to St Cuthbert's, in case she picked up an infection from lying in the bin.
Poor little scrap.
Can I hold her? BABY CRIES I told them I wanted to give her a name before she goes, Sergeant Woolf said I could.
But then I couldn't think of anything.
How about Primrose? They're little flowers that turn up in the cold.
We will have to ensure a Scotch egg is despatched to Sister Frances.
I offered to go and relieve her, but she's adamant she's staying with the baby until they take her to St Cuthbert's.
I imagine she's become emotionally involved.
It happened all the time with people stumbling across babies in Hong Kong.
Abandonment's very rare in Poplar.
It's only the second case I've ever heard of.
Once, infants such as these would not even have been found alive.
Mudlarks would recover them, naked and dead on the shoreline of the river.
Maybe times have improved.
No matter how poor people are, they always find a way.
The relinquishment of a child has little to do with poverty and much to do with desperation.
Oh, sorry, Valerie.
Were you putting your feet up? No, Maureen.
I was having my lunch.
And I'm on my way back from my cleaning shift, at the Black Sail.
- Helping Auntie Flo out.
Remember her? - Yes.
I do.
Well, that's funny, cos you seem to have forgotten who your grandma is! Not to mention where she is! Holloway? Why don't you shout a bit louder, and throw the "abortion" word in while you're about it? Ashamed, are you? Because I'm not.
I went to visit her in prison yesterday, with Flo, which is more than you have, according to her.
She cried like a tap all through my visit.
Because of you.
Does she blame me, Maureen? No.
She just misses you.
She kept talking about when we were all kids, and how she had us tucked under that scratchy tartan blanket down Bethnal Green Tube in the air raids.
- Seems a long time ago now.
- Don't it just? We have to let her go.
We've got to have faith in her future.
How can we have faith in her future? All we know about her past is that she wasn't wanted.
Will you hurry up in there? You'll wash that face off if you carry on scrubbing! I was doing my teeth again! Have I got a Colgate ring of confidence? Oh, not half! Oh, you smell beautiful.
Tomorrow, I've got vouchers to go down to the charity office and get us the things we need for the flat, and for the baby.
We're even in with the chance of a pram.
When the baby's born, will we be a family? We're a family now, Terry.
And will it look like me? No, son.
More like me.
Good evening! I'm afraid the surgery's closed.
I'm sorry.
I just wanted to leave something for the abandoned baby.
The one they're calling Primrose in the papers.
That's ever so kind of you.
It's only a matinee jacket.
In yellow, because of her name.
I felt proper sorry for her, wrapped up in someone's nightie.
I'll make sure it gets sent to her at St Cuthbert's.
Why's she at St Cuthbert's? Papers said she was here.
PHONE RINGS Dr Turner's surgery.
I'm sorry.
We're not allowed to talk to journalists.
I'll take it there myself.
You're meant to ring the police up.
I don't want to be rude, but I'm putting the phone down.
Hello? Miss? Hello? It's not uncommon for cranks to come forward in cases like this, Sister Frances.
They can be as disturbed as the person who abandoned the infant, yet not have any connection to the child at all.
This woman was lactating.
I saw the stains on her blouse with my own eyes.
And she knew that Primrose had been wrapped in a woman's nightdress.
That detail wasn't in a single newspaper.
If you could spell "lactating" for me, I'd be obliged.
I'm running a lot of mauves at the moment because purple's all the rage - everything from lavender through to amethyst.
This colour is very close.
Do you think it might have been purchased here? Oh, no.
Because it's pure silk! Absolutely top notch.
I got something similar in, in ivory, when Sister Julienne was mending the Easter altar cloth.
But that was a special order.
Thank you.
Oh! Ah! These sums come up on the 11-plus paper every year.
So we're going to work on them every day this week.
KNOCKING Sorry to disturb.
I'm just rounding up some stragglers for the TB testing programme.
A little bird tells me Sufiyah Ahmad's in this class? We haven't seen her for a fortnight, Sister.
- I think the family might've moved on.
- Oh, well.
Not for the want of trying! Sorry.
Terry! Pay attention, please! Ow! Ow! SHE BREATHES HEAVILY Ah! Ow! Mum.
Do you think it's another false alarm? No, precious.
I think you're six fingers dilated.
But it's not convenient.
I need to get home! You're staying right where you are.
We'll get a message to Terry.
- How? - Miss Higgins, the secretary, will help.
Argh! SHE GROANS But Terry needs me to help him with his homework.
It's time you stopped fretting about everybody and everything.
The next few hours are just about you and your baby.
I'll do any fretting that's required.
Do you hear me? HE COUGHS Let's get you back up on the bed, so I can see how you're progressing.
TRICKLING SHE LAUGHS I'm sorry! I'm sorry.
You don't need to be sopping wet, you've got work to do! And you're planning a nice leisurely evening, are you? HE GROANS Just move your legs apart for me, heels up to your bottom.
What's the matter? - Is there something wrong? - Everything is going to be just perfect.
But we need a little change of plan.
LABOURED BREATHING ALARM RINGS Did Miss Higgins see Terry? I want to push! Not yet, precious.
Not yet.
- Just pant, Dena.
- Mrs Bowland, what a nice surprise! I was hoping I'd get to see you on the big day.
- How might I be of assistance? - We have a cord prolapse.
Mother is fully dilated and feeling the urge to push.
What's a prolapse? It means the cord's been born in advance of baby.
Best thing we can do is turn you over and get you with your knees up to your chest.
What? No.
I can't.
- I can't! - You're already doing it, Dena.
SHE SHOUTS That's it lass! That's it.
- Now tuck your knees right under.
- Argh! It might feel ungainly, but that's exactly where we want it.
Push, Dena! The harder you push, the quicker it will come! And the better that's going to be for baby! Ow! Mum? Argh! We want you to keep pushing and pushing.
We need this baby to be born.
But I thought I was supposed to push when I had a contraction.
Remember what I said about I do all the fretting? - I do all the giving orders, too.
- Come on.
You grab my hand and do as she says.
No sound this time.
All that energy, you force it right down, down through your body while you push, and you push, and you push that baby out.
Keep it coming, keep it coming, keep it coming.
Just listen to him! He sounds just like my Terry.
WEAKLY: Mum? SHE GASPS Terry! Terry? Terry! Open your eyes, dear.
I'm fetching help.
You certainly got your reward, for all your hard work.
It was hard.
And it was work.
But it wasn't hard work.
Now open as wide as you can, son.
HE COUGHS I can't quite believe what I'm seeing here.
Or maybe I don't want to.
Can you let me have another look? See that? That grey membrane stretching across his throat? - It's diphtheria? - Yes.
This day and age? I'm giving him penicillin now.
Then we need to get him to St Cuthbert's.
And the isolation ward.
I'll inform the medical officer first thing in the morning.
It's also imperative that everyone who's been in contact with him is tested.
Every family member.
Every classmate.
I've already swabbed his mother.
She gave birth just hours ago.
Shouldn't Terry have been vaccinated? He's ten.
It's possible he was, and it's worn off.
But from his records, his early life with his mother was chaotic to say the least.
We're all meant to be travelling forwards.
Everything's supposed to be improving, all the time.
Diphtheria making a comeback isn't progress.
It's medieval.
As nursing professionals, you have a duty to make sure you are up-to-date with all vaccinations and boosters.
Sorry, Nurse Crane.
You need to set a good example to all your patients, particularly the mothers.
If you could remember what I can remember, you wouldn't have shilly-shallied.
Sleeve up.
I haven't got all day.
Ian Halkins, Class Four? Sweetie from the basket and go straight home.
Teacher has a letter for your mother about quarantine.
PHONE RINGS Nonnatus House.
Midwife speaking.
We've just been called upon to remove a distressed lady from St Cuthbert's maternity ward.
She claims to be baby Primrose's mother but otherwise refuses to give her name or identify herself in any way.
Have you taken her into custody? I'd prefer to say she's in our care.
Have you brought her? Have you brought my baby? Not this time, sweetie.
But the policeman said you were midwives.
We are midwives.
And we're also nurses, and we're your friends.
While we're looking after you, we'll be whichever of those you need most.
But I've been holding him.
I've been feeding him.
You tested positive for diphtheria bacterium.
Until the antibiotics gets to work, it's wise to keep him in the nursery.
If I can't go to him, can I go to Terry? Terry's being very well looked after in the isolation ward.
HE COUGHS What are you trying to say, Terry? Next week.
What's next week? 11-plus.
Good morning, Nurse Crane.
I'm pleased to announce all recommended precautions are in place.
That's scant consolation to the mothers expecting to deliver here.
I've a list of nine whose due dates fall within the next two weeks.
And I have a list of alternative facilities.
Please, somebody help me with my niece? Miss Higgins.
Will you please fetch Doctor? Oh, no.
I recognise that smell.
There's a lot we can tell you about your situation.
You have sustained a small tear, which will mend on its own.
And your breasts are leaking milk because your body is weeping for a reunion with your child.
If, in return, you could tell us a little about yourself, even just your name, it would be so much the better for all concerned.
I can't tell you.
And why is that? Because I've done wrong.
And you're a woman of the church.
I'm not.
Note - red hat, no wimple.
I've some sanitary towels and some antiseptic in my bag.
The ladies' isn't too dreadful, so I suggest we pop along and you can have a tidy-up.
Diphtheria? People die of diphtheria.
Open wide, please.
Any details you can give us about Carole's work, who she mixes with in her spare time, would be so helpful.
A week or so ago, she rang me, crying, begging for help.
She was living in a homeless shelter in Rakesby Street.
I don't know about you, Sister Hilda, but I'm seeing nothing untoward with the naked eye.
The trouble is, half the people that were here with Terry Bowland and Carole Witley have moved on.
Any one of them could've been the source.
Better? There's nothing worse than feeling un-fresh and not having the necessaries with you! SHE SOBS It's all right, sweetie.
Come on.
You've been so alone in this, haven't you? Were you alone when the baby was born? I didn't know how it was going to happen.
I knew it had started.
I knew it would hurt.
I just kept wanting to crouch down, as if I was an animal.
Did nobody hear you at all? Did no-one come? I had my cardigan sleeve in my mouth to stop me screaming.
I didn't want anyone to know.
And what do you want now? Her.
You need to help us to help you, sweetie.
Will you help me? Will you help me if I tell you my name is Brenda? Brenda.
Primrose is waiting for you.
And the police need your name and your address.
Brenda Donnelly.
St Genistus' presbytery.
Sarum Street.
I'm the priest's housekeeper.
BELL RINGS Ah, to what do I owe the pleasure, Sister? Mother.
Mildred, of the Order of St Raymond Nonnatus.
Mrs Donnelly has been following her usual routines.
I had no knowledge of her situation.
None at all.
She lives under your roof.
Her accommodation is behind the kitchen.
Meaning that you never go there? Meaning strict boundaries are observed.
Up until two months ago, she had a bedsit in the next street.
But the building was condemned and so we offered her a home here, out of charity.
- And expediency, no doubt.
- Father Morris is elderly.
He's confined to his room, and without going into indelicate detail, it does put a certain amount of pressure on the laundry.
Is she well? She is in distress.
As you might imagine.
And the infant? Primrose has as yet to be reunited with her mother.
Perhaps continued separation would be best for all concerned if adoption is planned.
Is adoption planned? Obviously.
She cannot keep the child.
She fears she cannot keep the child.
I suspect her desires conflict with what she thinks is possible.
You just informed me she placed her in a dustbin.
Brenda is a broken woman, Father Duncombe.
She's always been a broken woman.
She had a history of mental illness before she came to us.
That does not mean she is devoid of feeling.
I venture to say that it means the reverse! Is this Mrs Donnelly's sewing basket? I believe it is.
She always had a lot of mending on the go.
Shirts, vestments and so forth.
So, did she come to your personal study to do that, Father? On occasion.
Now, go and give Genevieve her dinner.
What are you doing? Sponging and pressing Timothy's old blazer.
It looked unloved, just hanging there.
And it smells of his chemistry set and Clearasil.
I miss him, too.
GIRLS SHRIEK - What? - What's the matter? Come here.
Which one of you's hurt? Go on.
Go inside, children, and wash your hands.
In a minute, you're going to hear some lovely news.
The rabbit's had .
more rabbits.
I thought Flopsy was female.
We all thought Flopsy was female.
They've got no fur, and they look like animated giblets.
No wonder the girls are traumatised.
I think baby rabbits are actually called kittens.
This is going to be educational enough.
Thank you.
Do I just, erm, pick her up? Am I allowed? She's your daughter, Brenda.
I'm sorry.
I'm so sorry.
For what I did.
For what I didn't do.
For what I wanted.
For what I couldn't have.
I'm sorry.
And I'm not sorry.
Not if I die and burn.
BABY FUSSES Sh She says she wants to feed the baby, but she's so engorged, it's going to be impossible.
It might be too soon for the breast pump, but it's worth a try.
We must take every conceivable measure to head off mastitis at the pass.
The hospital says that they won't release Primrose until Social Services are satisfied.
And then they say there's no bed for Brenda because she isn't ill.
If the authorities agree, we'll find a room for her at Nonnatus House.
Ah! Father Duncombe.
I telephoned the ward and asked if I might see the child.
Mrs Donnelly is with her daughter.
Is she expecting you? She is not.
The Medical Officer telephoned.
Three more cases of confirmed diphtheria in the wider borough.
Are the swab results from Rakesby Street back yet? No-one appears to have active disease.
But two adults and four children have tested positive for diphtheria bacteria in the upper respiratory tract.
Someone's infected them.
That much is certain.
SHE COUGHS I don't doubt that you want what's best for your daughter, Brenda.
And that's why I came here today, to baptise her.
As a Catholic? Of course as a Catholic.
She will not be denied the Sacrament.
You're too late.
I christened her myself.
A nun told me anyone can do that, when I was at the children's home.
You must have been very afraid for Primrose.
I was afraid she'd die if nobody found her.
Perhaps Brenda might feel more at ease if you left us alone.
And I would feel more at ease if I remain.
This lady requires support.
I can't disagree with that.
You need support, don't you, Brenda? You need to know that your daughter is safe and well looked after.
You need to know that she's with someone who can give her the care that she needs.
And you can't do that.
With the best will in the world, you can't do that.
I know I can't.
I've already spoken with two adoption societies.
Both have offered you assistance.
I am terminating this conversation forthwith.
The only ASSISTANCE this baby's mother currently requires is of a personal nature.
And Nurse Franklin is poised to supply it.
The breast pump.
If you'll be so kind.
Colour film doesn't half make Reggie's hair look red! Bless him.
Well HE SIGHS I won't be putting this on display.
In the tin, yeah, with the things I don't want to forget.
But I will always remember lifting that bin lid and seeing baby Primrose.
Picture or no picture.
These sheets are that smooth, they're like icing on a wedding cake.
Clean every day.
Shouldn't think you'd even get that in the Ritz.
What I don't like about this bed is the space around it.
Or the space around me.
I normally have my Terry cuddled up across the mattress .
and I can hear him breathing.
And it's like when I was a kid, and I bunked in with my brothers.
And that's what family meant.
It meant no space.
No silence.
No being lonely in the dark.
I remember that.
Once we've measured you up for a more suitable brassiere, we're going to put these delightful cold compresses on your bosoms.
Will that help me to feed her? It will make you much more comfortable.
And everything else we can work out together.
I've got so much to make up to her.
There's so much I need to get right.
You are more than capable of being an excellent mother to Primrose.
And anyone who tells you otherwise is simply out to bully you.
I do wrong things, Nurse.
I go in wrong directions.
I've fallen into sin, and I can't climb out of it.
Let's work out what size you are.
I've not told you the truth.
You're free to tell me anything that you want to or keep any secret that you wish to.
I tell people I'm a widow.
I'm not.
I'm divorced.
Be that as it may, it's not a crime.
Who did this, Brenda? My husband.
With his belt.
The leather just made stripe marks, and they faded, over the years.
The buckle cut in more.
I'm sorry.
Married straight from the orphanage.
It seemed the best way out.
When I was eight, me mam took me to the nuns and asked them to have me because she was dying.
On the way, she went into a cake shop and bought us two eclairs.
We sat on a wall and ate them.
Pretended we were in a café.
There were times when I was married, I'd look back and think, "Sitting on that wall was the last time I was happy.
" But I can't have been, can I? You were a child, Brenda.
And children are alert to any joy that comes their way .
any smile that's tossed in their direction.
Some of us carry that with us all our lives.
I want better for Primrose.
The people who smile at her are going to mean it.
I came to offer help.
You came to arrange an adoption.
That's not the kind of help Mrs Donnelly requires.
She wants to keep the baby.
Her decision is therefore final.
Not necessarily.
Social Services will scrutinise her mental health.
And as of this week, she is unemployed.
Is Mrs Donnelly aware of that fact? With an illegitimate baby in tow, she is not morally suitable for the position of Presbytery housekeeper.
Should she choose to return without the baby, the situation might be different.
She has said she will not give up her baby.
That is her right.
The father will have rights too, if he is legally identified.
I'm just popping over to the school with my shark net.
The Class Four teacher called and said one of my Mantoux test candidates has put in an appearance.
She didn't know the class had been quarantined, poor pet.
DOOR CLOSES Do you know who the father is, Father? No, Mother.
I do not.
And that's that! You are a frightfully brave young lady.
Could you have a look at Sufiyah's other arm while you're here, Sister? What's the matter with her arm? Oh, good Lord.
She told me it doesn't hurt.
I've never seen anything like that! It started as an insect bite.
She says she had it before they left Pakistan.
Let me see.
You have dark hair.
I've spoken to the school secretary.
The address the Ahmads gave when they enrolled was Rakesby Street Homeless Unit.
They've managed to move in with relatives since then.
That filthy wound is almost certainly cutaneous diphtheria.
The bacteria has been constantly shedding and spreading everywhere she's been.
It can live in floor dust for 14 weeks.
I'm calling the Hospital for Tropical Diseases.
And the council.
I want Rakesby Street fumigated.
And this surgery deep cleaned.
As soon as the poor little girl has gone.
Brenda, my dear.
You must think exceptionally carefully about naming the father on the birth certificate.
If I don't, I'll look like a slut.
And if you do name him, he'll have the right to influence her fate, the right to fight you if you make a different choice.
I need to see the doctor.
Maureen? What's wrong? I reckon my kids have got diphtheria.
Maxine's throat is so sore she can hardly swallow, and Gary's not much better.
All right.
Open wide.
German measles.
Hence the rash and the inflamed throats.
- Do they need penicillin? - No.
Just a couple of days in front of the television, hot drinks and aspirin if they run a fever.
With a lollipop to take the taste away.
I'll go and see what we've got.
Thanks, Val.
I spoke out of turn last week .
about you and your gran.
I'm sorry.
I'm sorry.
And I'm grateful.
I was, erm, running away from something that was hard.
And it was too easy.
Till I opened my ruddy trap.
I'm grateful.
And I'm going to go and see my grandma.
SHE MOUTHS I'm getting better, Mum.
They're going to let me out soon! Me too, sweetheart.
And your baby brother.
They're going to let me do the 11-plus at home.
Pray be seated.
Pass the teacakes to this end of the table.
There's a draft down there and they'll go cold.
I will be returning to the Mother House within the week.
You'll be greatly missed.
I shall be taking Brenda Donnelly and her daughter with me.
To the Mother House? Or the Orphanage? Both, in essence.
We will be, for her, whatever she requires.
One does not have to be a child to be an orphan.
Carole Witley has been discharged from the isolation ward, but there's no need for any district visits, we found her a bed in the convalescent place at Hythe.
Meanwhile, little Sufiyah Ahmad is going home, but she'll need daily dressing changes on that ulcer for some weeks.
Of course, poor pet.
Nurse Franklin.
Good of you to bestow the gift of your presence upon us.
I was detained by the postman! "I am delighted to inform you, and your colleagues "that you have been declared runners-up "in the Slender Legs professional section!" So we haven't won a year's supply of tights, then? "Please accept, with our compliments, "this selection of our latest hosiery, "featuring tutti frutti and op-art fashions "for the loveliest and most lissom limbs.
"Plus one 10% discount voucher "redeemable against future purchases.
" One 10% discount voucher? That's not going to go very far.
Do let's take a peek! What do they mean when they say "tutti frutti" and "op-art"? There's a bright fuchsia pair here.
I quite like them.
Turquoise fishnets! If you think you're wearing those for work, I beg to differ.
5 oz in a week.
Top marks to Master Bowland.
And his mother.
We just need somebody else to get top marks now.
I wanted Primrose to have this.
I made it from your nightdress.
It kept her warm once.
It can keep her warm again.
If that is payment in lieu of wages for Mrs Donnelly, perhaps you ought to hand it to her.
I thought to reimburse you for her board and lodging.
She is our guest for the present .
and will be making her own financial decisions in the future.
Leave it on the desk.
I can manage this.
Will you forgive me? Will it make you feel better? No.
Then I'll leave things as they are.
Please don't smile at me.
I loved you.
Don't you go filling my sink up with soil.
I don't want it dying on the way to the Mother House.
And I want them to plant it somewhere where Primrose can look at it and know that she's got friends.
Oh, Vi.
You put her on display, with everyone else.
KNOCKING Mother Mildred's almost ready for the off.
I've had to supply one bottle of lemon barley and one of embrocation.
Let's hope she doesn't mix them up.
Don't let her back in here.
Why? The council have notified us that the whole of this street is to be demolished within the next two years.
And Nonnatus House will be demolished with it.
Surely Mother ought to be told? What can she do? What can any of us do? Well, it would be a poor show if I didn't put a word in for our old chum, prayer.
Tell no-one.
MATURE JENNIFER: The past is never lost to us.
We carry it with us, everywhere we go.
It is in every cell of our body and our soul.
It is where we have been.
It was our son's blazer.
Well done for passing your 11-plus.
It is where we learn to love.
Thank you.
It is where we made our mistakes All right there? .
and where we can consign them.
The gift is knowing that the present will soon pass.
And that the way we embrace it has the power to change everything.
It was my mother's favourite variety, and Aubrey assures me it will bloom by Mothering Sunday.
I think it's best we get this door down.
Anyone ever told you you've got eyes just like Paul McCartney? - No.
- He's my third favourite Beatle.
Show yourself! I'll tell you what, keep your stupid magazine! I was only looking at it anyway.

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