At Easter, we celebrate the opening
of the year. The stone of winter rolls away,
admitting air and light.
We have survived the dark days
and are free to be diverted.
And as we open our hearts and eyes afresh,
our wings unfold
and carry us towards the things in store...
new choices, new chances, new horizons,
faces waiting to be known, hands waiting to be held,
first smiles, first words, first glimpses of potential.
Hope emerges everywhere.
Some of us simply begin while others begin again,
or try again, or just try and give their best.
Once the shadows fall behind us, everything is possible.
Take these to your lovely foster parents,
with my compliments.
And make sure that big sister of yours
doesn't try to eat that rabbit!
Off you go, and say goodbye to May and Angela. Go on!
Oh, it's nice to see her smile. Now, are you all ready
for your first day in your red and blue tomorrow?
I've got every single item of uniform pressed
and laid out on the bed.
I'll have to move it all before I actually go to bed.
But it didn't seem real until I had it all lined up.
Aw!
The majority of these are insufficiently jaunty
and neither are they seasonal.
Oh?
Tulips from Amsterdam is jaunty AND seasonal.
The tenor does not sound sincere.
I seek the song about the travails of the marionette.
Do you mean Puppet On A String?
Reggie likes this one.
Ah! Reggie?
We're going to play that Eurovision entry!
Is this fun?
Mr Aylward, now the training scheme has ended,
without your ever-increasing
financial support, we would struggle.
At least you've been able to keep Nurse Corrigan.
We were delighted when she qualified.
It was by no means a foregone conclusion.
Life's full of surprises. We either survive them,
or they change things for the better.
I'm afraid it looks as though you have dry rot.
The beams underneath the attic floor have crumbled.
The remainder of the ceiling isn't safe at all.
Where's poor Nurse Corrigan going to sleep?
I was scared I was going to end up being put in
with Nurse Crane.
I absolutely promise you I don't snore.
Likewise.
Do you want piccalilli or mustard on this ham?
Oh, I think piccalilli today.
And a piece of chocolate cake, left over from yesterday?
I think that would be very fine indeed.
Very well. To quote the Speaking Clock,
the time is now 8am precisely.
The day has commenced,
whether the staff are at their posts or not.
Ah, thank you for swelling the throng, Nurse Anderson.
Dare I enquire as to Nurse Corrigan's whereabouts?
I left her in the bedroom.
I think her uniform was still a bit damp.
I had to dry it off down the side seams
with my hairdryer. And then it fused,
so I had to use yours. I hope you don't mind.
Not at all.
Oh, good, because that fused too.
I have the brochures from the Board of Health.
No fewer than 16 educational packages of films
and slides, designed to instruct
the public on every subject from smoking to... venereal disease.
What sort of films
and slides instruct people about venereal disease?
Um, I will be arranging and staging all the lectures,
being the only qualified projectionist on the staff.
You're on the district round this morning,
as am I.
We need a comprehensive review of our venous ulcer cases.
And I've just been asked to add a lady
to this morning's list for an incontinence review.
I will go where I am summoned. It is all God's work.
I'm afraid we do not prescribe antibiotics over the telephone,
even if they do clear everything up overnight.
Good morning.
It's Mr and Mrs Fleming, isn't it?
Yes. Er, we've been away for a few months,
staying at my mum's in Streatham.
We've made a double appointment with Dr Turner?
Indeed you have. Welcome back.
And many congratulations.
Thank you.
Morning!
Good morning.
Good morning. District nurse. Are you Miss or Mrs Nyall?
Miss.
Thank you.
What a comfortable home you have, Miss Nyall.
It's sufficient for our wants,
even if Poplar isn't entirely what it was.
Marigold?
I'm just talking to the nurse, Mother.
I'll bring her through in a minute.
I'm not decent!
You're always decent!
I keep her exactly as she'd like to be kept.
Since incontinence is the primary concern.
I did try sanitary towels,
but it would appear we've gone beyond that.
Nevertheless, I'm doing my best, and so is Mother.
Which doesn't mean we can't do better.
Specialist disposable pads are available and, what's more,
the council will provide them.
We've always taken pride in being of independent means.
My grandfather was an alderman.
I think we'd be wise to take a urine sample.
Will Mother use a bed pan?
She's inclined to take umbrage.
I generally have to walk her to the lavatory.
Well, we'll see how we go on, shall we?
I take it this is Mother's room?
Mrs Nyall? District nurse calling.
Absolutely perfect, Audrey,
you've had an exemplary pregnancy.
We've been ever so lucky this time.
Ever since we lost Christopher at birth, well...
Well, that was like our world had ended.
You were also seriously ill yourself.
A partial gastrectomy takes time to recover from.
Now, are there any concerns you want to discuss with me?
Well, we would like the baby to be healthy...
all its fingers and toes and everything.
But we're not dwelling on anything bad or sad.
And quite right too.
But I was thinking, if you'd like to come
to clinic this afternoon, we can do your other routine tests
and get back into the swing of things,
perhaps sign you up for relaxation classes.
Well, it's Derek that needs the relaxation classes, not me.
He's on 30 cigarettes a day, just trying to stay calm!
I used to be able to get through 40, once upon a time.
Do you think I should quit?
I've not even got a cough!
Whatever happened with the radiation poisoning at Christmas Island,
I've still got a decent pair of lungs.
It's not your lungs I'm worried about, Derek.
With the ulcers and such extensive surgery,
you're already at risk of gastric cancer.
And there's evidence that smoking can cause stomach tumours.
Have you got any leaflets?
There's leaflets for everything nowadays.
Morning, sir. All right, Jack?
Matthew!
Sister Hilda found it under the parlour table.
I thought Jonathan might be missing it.
Well, I do have him in training for
the 1986 Test Match Series, so every clay of practice counts.
Mr Aylward, sir. The men inside... they say can you come, urgently.
They think it's a baby.
Er, Shelagh?
What did you make of Derek and Audrey Fleming this morning?
That they're too determined to be happy.
Hm. Little Christopher was born without legs below the knee,
and he lived for only 30 minutes.
If that was caused by Derek's exposure
to radiation during his National Service,
then this new baby may well be affected too.
Yes. There's so much courage in their optimism.
There's also terror... and not without reason.
Mrs Audrey Fleming?
Oh, hello, Sister!
- I heard you were back. - Yes. History repeating.
Oh, Lord! You'd better have a look.
I can tell just by looking at the little skull.
It's the remains of a baby,
wrapped up in a blouse or a nightgown.
Just its bones.
It's so tiny. It must have been a newborn.
But somebody put it here deliberately
a long, long time ago.
I'll send for the police.
Baby seems to be in a very nice position, Audrey.
That's a lovely strong heartbeat.
I often wish I could let mothers listen themselves with
the Pinard. It's such a magical, reassuring thing to hear.
Oh, Audrey!
Don't cry.
I'm sorry. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get all emotional.
I'm afraid Dr Turner's just been called away from clinic.
He'll check on the results
of your blood tests when they're in.
Oh, no, Audrey!
I'm sorry, it's just brought it all back.
The noises in here,
the noises and the smell of the hall
and the disinfectant,
and even the colour of them curtains.
It's just brought it all back.
I'll fetch a cup of tea.
Sister Frances was there when Christopher was born, wasn't she?
It's just, every time I look at her...
...I just think of Christopher
and the way she looked at me
and him, when he was dying.
Is that it now? Where will it go?
The hospital mortuary.
A pathologist will examine it and report to the coroner.
I'm simply the police surgeon on duty.
There's nothing more I'm allowed to do.
It just looked so small.
It wouldn't have looked much bigger when it was alive.
And it was alive, once.
Tada! Refreshments...
to celebrate Nurse Corrigan's first day on the staff roster.
Ooh! Ice cream sodas!
I know it's not hot but,
when I was a kid, there was a milk bar in Cork,
and all I ever wanted was to go
and have an ice cream float up at the counter.
I'm telling you now... the nuns were having none of it.
It must have been a grim day, so I brought you this.
There's no alcohol in it.
I know you're a bit funny like that.
I like to think that I'm sensible like that.
Oh, I'm sorry.
You've had a bit of a grim day.
This is most welcome.
Thank you.
I just can't blot its little face out of my mind.
A baby's skull looks so much more like a baby
than you might imagine.
And I just keep thinking,
who put it there and why?
Oh! Hello, Sister!
Sorry I wasn't at the clinic yesterday.
Mrs Turner thought you might appreciate a visit.
That's very kind of you.
Sister Hilda is presenting
a slide show on giving up smoking
at the Institute this week. I've brought the details.
Thank you.
Shall I pop the kettle on?
I made a right show of myself crying in that cubicle.
Ha! I thought I was doing well.
But then, suddenly,
everything was just reminding me of Christopher
and what went wrong,
and all those things that we can never put right.
You loved Christopher and always will.
And I'm scared.
Will they have things like oxygen in the maternity home?
You see, when Christopher was born, he needed oxygen.
Everything will be at hand, including Dr Turner.
And a transfer to hospital can be arranged at any time,
if it's necessary.
We can arrange for different midwives to deliver the baby.
Oh, I don't want to hurt anyone's feelings.
Nurse Anderson and Sister Frances are both so lovely.
It's my view that you need
a clean slate. And we can help with that.
I can do something to help meself as well.
This is all the stuff that Derek
and I have collected about the men in the nuclear tests
and their children,
when they've been lucky enough to have 'em.
I just don't want to have to think about it for a while.
I understand.
You two needn't think you're putting your feet up this dinner time!
We're having a working lunch of cheese and crackers,
and you're going to help me with my new display.
I take it you've settled on a theme, then?
The Eurovision Song Contest.
- That's on my birthday! - I know.
All the more reason for us to push the boat out.
We're going to have flags of many nations, a microphone and...
...a puppet on a string.
And these were all involved in the nuclear tests?
Yes. Operation Grapple,
like Derek Fleming, and Operation Dominic?
That was an American exercise, using British troops.
These are all over the place!
Teddy's just brought back up his last drink of Lucozade.
Does he have chickenpox too?
Oh, yes, all three of them now.
It's best they get it out of the way,
but that's me on domestic duties for a week.
I did bring an extra large bottle of Calamine, as requested.
Thank you.
There's a list of children's names here,
headed "Missing Fingers".
And details of three ex-servicemen
with leukaemia written on the back of an envelope.
Oh, if they ever want to challenge the MoD,
this needs to be more systematic.
The information has been coming in
so fast, Audrey says she's struggled to collate it.
I'll collate it.
It will give me something to do while the children are ill.
May I be of assistance?
I'm Detective Sergeant Barrow.
Obviously, our first port of call was the Electoral Roll.
But 32 Madeira Street was a house of multiple occupation
for decades.
And because it was never formally divided into flats,
it's difficult to establish who
lived in which part of the building.
The baby's remains having been found underneath the ground floor.
Sergeant, am I right in remembering that there was
an overspill nurse's home at that address during the War?
Yes. Er,
the National Registration Act census shows 15 unmarried women living
there in 1939, all on the staff at St Cuthbert's.
Some may be patients at this practice now,
or registered with your predecessor.
You need access to our records, obviously.
We have to gather as much information
about the residents of 32 Madeira Street as possible.
Or that baby goes
to its grave without a name, or justice.
Huh! I shall be having firm words with Medical Supplies.
I just found today's delivery dumped outside
the back door without so much as a "by your leave".
This box contains incontinence supplies.
What use would they be if they got wet?
I am heading out to Nimali Patel.
No, you, lass, are going nowhere. You're not well.
I do feel a bit feverish.
I shall telephone Lucille and she can go instead.
She can also take these pads to Mrs Bertha Nyall
and her daughter.
Their flat's at the same address. Now, come on!
Good evening. Are you Mrs Nyall?
I am. Though, what I am, none cares or knows.
My friends forsake me like a memory lost.
Mother, go back inside!
I'm afraid you must excuse her.
She used to be an elocution teacher.
She certainly knows her poetry. John Clare, if I'm not mistaken.
I'm afraid I can't linger as I'm needed elsewhere.
But Nurse Crane asked me to deliver these pads.
A little discretion would have been appreciated, but thank you.
Midwife calling.
Oh, you poor love!
Why all these tears?
And what are you doing hanging on to that sink? Have you been sick?
No, no, she's not been sick, but she's in very bad pain.
There is no need to be upset, Nimali.
This is normal labour.
Mr Patel, does your wife have any female relatives nearby?
No, no, we came here alone... together, but alone.
Are you from Gujarat or the Punjab?
We are Gujarati.
We will manage.
And you are not alone.
Badhu barabara che.
All is well. All is well.
And what you're looking at now, ladies and gentleman,
is a smoker's lung
in all of its not inconsiderable glory.
Would anyone like to hazard
a guess at what the blackened areas are?
Is that tar, Sister?
Indeed it is. Tar.
Oh! That delicious taste you get
when you drag the smoke down the throat!
Oh! That crisp aroma as the tobacco burns,
that tang of...
something unique to a cigarette!
And I do actually know what I'm talking about.
No, I served in the WAAFs before I took the veil,
and a packet of Henley's was as much a part of
a good night out as a slick of lipstick and a Gin & It.
Sister,
is it true that smoking can cause cancer in other parts of the body?
Unfortunately, yes.
Yeah, recent research does rather seem to prove it.
If Miss Sandie Shaw performs to the same standard at
the concert in Vienna...
...she will return
to our shores laden with Eurovision laurels.
I'd be happy if she put a pair of shoes on.
Oh, that's just a gimmick.
I don't think she's a patch on Nancy Sinatra.
I'm not familiar with that theme music.
Nurse Corrigan's been introducing us to Top Of The Pops
so Sister Monica Joan could hear Puppet On A String.
Sister Hilda will be distressed to have missed it.
She hopes to furnish us with
festive vol-au-vents and lemonade.
Oh, when the television concert is transmitted.
Oh, I think not. It seems a very frivolous event.
We did it for the World Cup.
This is popular music. The World Cup was history.
I want them mashed to a pulp. And you're never smoking again.
That nun didn't show any slides of any stomachs.
I don't care... you heard her. Cancers of the oesophagus,
of the tongue and of the stomach, all caused by smoking.
Look, if I'm chock-full of radiation anyway,
what difference does it make?
The difference it makes, Derek Fleming,
is that it's something you can do for yourself,
something the MoD can't fib about and cover up.
It's something YOU can have power over,
it's something we can do for this baby.
I need you to be around for a long time, Derek.
And just for now, I don't want to think about
or worry about anything else.
Serves you right if I made you chuck them in the gutter.
You're as addicted to Sherbet Dip Dabs as I am to fags.
This isn't an addiction... this is a craving.
And I'm nine months pregnant, so I'm entitled.
You should hold her hands in yours.
She is with midwife. I'm not needed.
Both hands... hold them.
A big, strong push.
Jera Vadhare jor Karo.
Well done.
Mata, Mata...
I know you want your mother.
And I know you can't understand my words. Remember. All is well.
Badhu barabara che.
One big push now, Nimali. Big push.
The first baby of a new generation.
All is well.
Chickenpox?
Why is it always me that catches everything?
It's like I'm a sponge, sucking up germs and vermin.
Ah-ah-ah!
I shall have to check the mothers-to-be that you saw in clinic
have all had it in the past.
I only saw Mrs Fleming.
And I had to go and mop up after that vomiter.
I've been on the district apart from that.
I shall be setting up a cordon sanitaire across this doorway.
Good morning.
Morning, Sergeant. Have there been any developments?
The pathologist is carrying out the postmortem this morning.
Depending on his findings, the coroner may open an inquest.
It transpires that the lino laid over the boards
was a pattern discontinued AFTER war broke out.
And underneath it, there were sheets of newspaper dating back
to the Abdication.
That flooring hadn't been disturbed since 1936 or '37.
So you're ruling out any connection with the nurse's home?
Yes.
As you can see from the brochures, the council have put an exceedingly
wide range of illustrated material at our disposal.
- We have excellent lectures on head... - Colette.
Why don't you go and get some fresh air before the end of playtime?
One of the reasons I came in was to warn you
that chickenpox is doing the rounds again.
If that's what it is, I'm afraid she must have had chickenpox
since she started here, in January.
Dr Turner let me see the pathologist's report
on the baby's remains.
Is there much they can tell from just the bones?
You can tell the exact age of a baby from the length of
the clavicle, the collar bone.
This was precisely the measurement found on
a full-term neonate. Any shorter,
it would have been premature. Any longer,
it might have lived for a little while.
If there's an inquest,
the coroner will open and adjourn straight away,
to allow the body to be released for burial.
The most likely charge would be under
the 1861 Of fences Against the Person Act,
concealing the birth of a child.
1861? That law was passed over 100 years ago.
Well, it still carries a two-year sentence.
The baby was wrapped up in a ladies flowered blouse,
with pearl buttons. It wasn't just thrown away, or...
or wrapped in paper like something from
the butcher's. Whoever did this and why,
they weren't criminals. They were... they were in distress.
What did the foster mother say?
She checked Colette's notes and says she had chickenpox
when she was five.
Oh.
I should know those things.
I shouldn't have to ask, I'm her mother.
One day, in the not-too-distant future,
you will able to bring her up yourself, Nancy.
I just don't like to think of her unhappy, subdued.
I'd rather it was chickenpox.
We've drawn nothing but blanks so far.
There are only three left to check into.
Two who moved out to the New Towns in Haverhill
and Stevenage, so Suffolk and Herts Constabularies will deal with those,
and then one in Duchess Row.
I know this household.
The younger lady has a history of mental instability.
I don't want you going there without a district nurse.
The plan is to visit tomorrow.
I'll take whoever you think is best.
Oh, Fred, look at this.
Lucille put a radish in, cut it in the shape of a rose.
You can't half tell you're newlyweds.
I don't reckon we'll see any dahlias this year.
You want to ask Reggie for some tips?
Yeah, you and Lucille wouldn't like to come round next Saturday,
would you, help make his birthday a little bit of an occasion?
Oh, of course we would.
Nothing grandiose, we're gonna watch the Eurovision on the television.
And some sandwiches, cake, your nearest and, you know, clearest.
Aww!
Here, you eat this radish for me.
If I go home with it still in my lunch box,
Lucille will put her sad face on.
Detective Sergeant Barrow?
Yes. I understand you're familiar with this address?
Yes.
Mother is having one of her delicate days.
She will not be joining in this conversation in any way.
I explained to Sergeant Barrow that your mother
is suffering from senile dementia.
We were forced out of Madeira Street in 1939,
when the house was requisitioned as a nurse's home.
I would have thought the infant's remains date to then,
all those unmarried women, bombs raining down,
morals thrown to the four winds.
Miss Nyall, the floorboards in that room
hadn't been disturbed since 1936 or '37.
The baby was put there before any nurse moved in.
We had that lino laid by
Engelmann's of Stepney.
Mr Engelmann guaranteed it for 25 years.
What you need to know...
...is that there are two of them.
Two babies?
The first,
we buried underneath the floorboards.
18 months later, there was another one.
We hid it behind the flue, behind the gas fire.
I don't often envy my mother.
And I didn't envy her then.
I've never seen anyone in so much agony,
both times.
She hung onto my hands until her knuckles went white and my...
fingers had no feeling left.
But now, I envy her.
Because she can't remember.
And I can't forget.
Did no-one know she was expecting?
Was there nobody else who could help her?
She was a respectable widow.
Miss Nyall.
The person that I need to talk to is your mother.
Nonnatus House, midwife speaking.
It's Audrey Fleming. I think my labour is starting.
Can I please speak to Sister Julienne?
Do you remember when the babies were born, Mrs Nyall?
I remember Marigold.
They said, "You can't give a flower name to a winter baby."
Hmm, I remember that.
There was erm...
...snow on the sill outside, like soap.
Soap?
Soap flakes.
I won't have you humiliating her.
It's not my intention to humiliate her.
I'm trying to respect her, to let her tell me the truth,
if she wants to... and if she can.
She's lived without telling anyone the truth for more than 30 years.
She knew. I knew.
And that was enough.
There was no need for anyone else to be involved.
It was winter.
Of all the things to stick in her mind, the time of year.
Might I speak with you in private, Sergeant Barrow?
When she was giving a urine sample,
Mrs Nyall required my personal assistance.
I feel you should be advised that she has
a significant abdominal scar,
which looks to me as though it was caused by a Caesarean section.
And you believe that to be relevant?
A history of Caesarean section does not sit well
with two natural deliveries, at the age of more than 40,
with only her daughter in attendance.
I advise you to telephone the surgery.
I will. But first, I need to telephone the station.
There's something up here.
And there's something inside it.
Marigold,
we know that your mother's only child is you.
It's a matter of medical record.
You were born by Caesarean section
and your mother had to have a hysterectomy immediately afterwards,
to save her life.
She wasn't able to have any more babies.
It was me.
I gave birth to them.
- Miss Nyall... - I was the one who hid them.
I was the one who was supposed to be respectable.
And she was the one who held my hands.
A second baby? Are you sure, Matthew?
I pulled it from its hiding place. It was wrapped in a pillowcase.
Oh, Matthew.
It was so small.
It was lighter than a bird.
You can oversee her medically.
And she can appoint a solicitor, if she so desires.
But I have to interview her under caution.
Marigold Nyall was an in-patient at the Linchmere
for seven months in the early 1950s.
A diagnosis of severe depression,
manifesting in catatonia and elective mutism.
Did nobody wonder why?
A good psychiatrist will always wonder why.
But sometimes it takes years to find the answer.
It depends what's been buried, and how deep.
If you will allow me to sit with the lady,
whilst we wait for the solicitor,
it might keep her on an even keel. Please?
I've no objection.
Oh, the pain in my back's getting worse and worse.
Why is it all taking so long?
It seems the baby's lying with its spine against your spine.
If we give him or her time, he or she will turn
and the discomfort will ease somewhat.
I wish I could do this for you.
Audrey's doing well,
but it's been a long first stage for her.
Doctor, how high are the chances of Baby being born
with problems like the first?
According to the Ministry of Defence, zero.
According to what I saw last time and the evidence I've read...
...I don't know.
Which baby was born first, Miss Nyall?
The little boy.
We weren't able to...
ascertain the sex...
of either set of remains.
Do you mean the one in the chimney,
or the one under the floor?
The floor.
The other was a girl.
The boy came in
October... 1936.
There were rumours about the King and Mrs Simpson.
People spoke so harshly of her.
But women do fall.
They do find themselves in compromising circumstances.
I... had an arrangement...
...with a married man.
He took advantage of me for years.
He's the one you need to investigate.
Was he present at either of the births?
Just my mother.
And did either of them breathe?
It's all good, Audrey.
Staying mobile gives Baby a chance to change position.
We have gas and air ready, for your next pain.
I think I want to push. It feels like last time.
Is Dr Turner here?
Yes. He can come and see you, if you'd like him to.
Yeah, yeah.
Did either of the babies breathe or cry?
I don't want to remember.
They were your son and your daughter.
You must.
I'm sorry, Detective Sergeant Barrow.
But Miss Nyall must be allowed to compose herself.
After we cut the cords,
both times, they just lay there.
They were... they were silent.
Silent.
As if they were made of stone.
I want her seen by a psychiatrist.
Sister Julienne was right.
The baby's turned into the best possible position for delivery.
Clever baby. Clever you.
Can Derek come back now?
Come on, Derek.
You know my views about ulcers and empty stomachs.
I really don't think that I want a biscuit.
No. You want a cigarette.
Audrey wants YOU.
I have no idea what's going to happen in...
in there.
That's what being a father is.
You never do know, and there are never any promises.
Find the courage and the rest will come.
Baby's head is crowned.
This will sting a little.
No gas for this.
Perfect work. That's the worst of it over.
Oh, can you see its face?
It has a most beautiful face.
And its eyes are opening.
I love you, Audrey.
And I love you.
Now you must gather all that strength,
all of it, yours and his,
and push, push for the shoulders.
Come on, Audrey. Come on!
You have a daughter.
Is she all right? Is she all right?
She's beautiful.
It looks to me as though she has ten perfect fingers and ten tiny toes.
She's going to be released without charge.
And what did the psychiatrist say?
That, in his view, she'd never be passed fit to stand trial.
You'll get the report.
I'm hoping that when I read between the lines,
It will say, "She's been punished enough."
There would have been an issue of evidence,
if we'd ever got as far as court.
All we've got is two bundles of bones.
You look so tired.
At least they let me lie down overnight.
I'm a nurse.
I've seen dawn from the wrong end many a time.
I was a telephonist.
I used to be able to talk and talk, and say nothing of any import.
And then you stopped.
The babies never made a sound.
Will the police let them go now?
I thought you might like a brew, Mrs Turner.
- You've come in very late. - Thank you.
I'm quite enjoying the chance to think and get on with this job.
Mrs Turner,
am I right in thinking you foster your little Chinese girl, May?
Yes. We still hope to adopt her.
But her mother lives in Hong Kong and the situation is complicated.
My daughter lives with foster parents.
And before that, she was in an orphanage.
How can I help her to settle?
To be like May is
to always look as though she knows where she belongs.
Colette has had a lot of change.
Just like May, when she first came to us.
One of the things I did for May was make a scrap book,
telling her everything about herself and her new life in England.
And does she like it?
She used to ask to see it whenever she was feeling anxious.
I'd take her through the pictures and she would relax.
Now, she hardly asks to look at it at all.
And I think that's a good thing.
Have we a name for her yet?
We thought Elizabeth.
Elizabeth? That was my mother's name, I've always loved it.
It's all the more reason to choose it, then.
Elizabeth Christine.
That's just right.
I can't believe our luck, Aude.
Whatever's sloshing round inside of me,
whatever I might have passed onto her...
...she looks perfect.
She is.
And she always will be, cos she's ours.
And we get to take her home.
I think it's a lovely idea of Mrs Turner's.
I just wish I had a bit more to put in it for her.
There's one picture of me and my mother,
who she thinks is her mother, and who's dead.
A couple of snaps Nurse Crane took at the harvest supper,
none of me and her,
- and none of the goldfish, also dead. - Did Zebedee pass away?
He got some sort of fungus on him.
Oh, Colette broke her heart crying.
It always seems to me that it's the little things that children love.
How... how can I make her
a scrap book telling her who she is, when everything in it just
underlines a great big lie?
You could try telling her the truth.
These are for you.
Your own notes, exactly as they were,
and a fully typed and indexed version of the same.
You will want to look at them, in time.
And I suspect the lists will grow.
Did you find out anything new?
I discerned patterns.
Patterns the Ministry of Defence should see and should acknowledge.
We're not gonna let this rest.
And you shouldn't.
But let it rest today.
There's no flowers on these.
Things aren't born finished, Colette.
Now, sometimes, it takes time for the details to come out.
There are... all sorts of details
about you and me,
that it hasn't been right to tell you yet.
Why?
Because if people knew the truth, they might make unkind remarks or
might not let us join in with them, because we aren't respectable.
Nurses are respectable.
Colette.
When I was 16,
I did something that nobody thought was respectable at all.
I had a baby. I wasn't married.
Where's the baby now?
God love you.
Look.
How long will it be before the gravediggers come
and fill it in, do you suppose?
By nightfall, I should think.
Do you want them to stay uncovered for as long as possible?
Yes. Lord knows they were buried long enough.
I like the thought of them hearing the birds for a little while.
Me too.
You know, I couldn't look after you.
I couldn't look after myself.
So, they took control of everything. But it's my turn now.
So, I'm going to save up and work really hard at my job
and, in a year or two, we'll be living in a nice home of our own.
Like a mother and daughter should.
I thought I didn't have a mother.
But you have.
You always did have.
And it was always me.
Oh, look!
Ah.
The sisters have come to wish you Happy Birthday, Reggie.
It's an unhappy birthday.
The television's bust.
And I can't work out what's ailing it, even with the back off.
But what about your little party?
We can have some cake, I suppose.
And maybe have a game of cards?
I'll miss Puppet On A String.
No, you won't.
You must come to Nonnatus House and we will watch together, there.
Often, in the spring,
we cease to remember the winter that preceded it.
The clouds and the rain are of no consequence at all.
We look to each other for our sunshine.
And that light is all there is.
♪ Love is just like a merry-go-round... ♪
Where there was isolation,
there is togetherness.
Where there was silence, there is music.
♪ Then I'm up in the air... ♪
And where there was tribulation, there is peace of mind.
Every season passes, in the end.
Sharp shoots become soft leaves,
and the fruit we wait for tastes the sweetest.
Endure the grief, embrace the joy.
All things come.
This is how the world turns.
This is life itself.
Just goes to show how important these tests are.
What were you thinking? You numbskull!
You...
Sister Frances, has Miss Higgins called in at all?
Miss Higgins?
No-one has the right to decide who is worthy to be born.
Public health information.
Touche-pm.