Call the Midwife

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.