09x00 - Christmas Special 2020

[bunniefuu]

MATURE JENNIFER: All doors
are opened at Christmas.

All desires are made known.

Children list them in their letters.

Those older just make lists.

That one?

There is always a goal to be
reached, a gift to be given.

Something to seek out,
or to purchase,

or pursue.

ALL: Almighty God.

Give us grace that we may cast away
the works of darkness

and put upon us the armour of light,

now in the time
of this mortal life...

We want SO much.

We hope for so much happiness.

Looking good, Fred! Sparkling!

And there are things
that we must always do.

We need more Beanos.
The Beano is better than the Dandy.

Well, you write that on your list,
because you are the Comic Advisor.

DOOR OPENS, BELL JINGLES

Any more thoughts about the turkeys?

This is a high-class newsagent
and tobacconist's, Fred Buckle,

not a general stores with
a sideline dealing dodgy poultry.

The turkeys ain't dodgy.

I'm getting them from a farmer
in the countryside.

Nothing of uncertain provenance
is coming through that door.

You can flog them out of the back
of your van if you so desire.

Close the door, Reggie, love -
it's nippy out there.

There's a polar bear!

How about that then, Reg?
The circus is coming!

With a polar bear!

Excuse me, gentlemen.
Is there going to be a parade?

And will it be passing by my shop,
and when?

Is everything all right in there?

Is something amiss?

The bathroom's been occupied
for absolutely ages.

It's either Lucille
or Sister Monica Joan.

No, Sister Monica Joan went straight
to the parlour after chapel.

She's waiting for Doctor Who
to start.

Lucille?
Is it a touch of dicky tum?

I've seen a few cases of the trots
on the district rounds.

LUCILLE: I haven't got the trots!

I've had a new hairdo,
and I don't like it.

By the time Trixie's
given it the once-over

with Valerie's teasing comb
and a squirt of lacquer,

Cyril will be eating
out of your hand.

I've seen this time and time again
with a revised bouffant.

Trauma, followed by tears,

followed by a dawning conviction
that one has never looked better.

Where are Valerie's things?

She's only gone to the maternity
home. Why on earth would she take

her heated rollers there?
Nurse Dyer begged

for my discretion,
and indeed my silence.

She came to me
in considerable distress

soon after her grandmother
had passed away,

asking to hand in her resignation.

The poor lass has had one heartbreak
after the other.

She wasn't in a frame of mind
to make any sort of decision.

She was not.

And I told her exactly that.

And where is she now?

At London Airport.

Well, she did rather look as though
a holiday might perk her up.

She refused leave of absence,

insisting that she needed
to keep busy,

so I have arranged for her to go
to Hope Clinic in South Africa.

In that case, she has not left us.

She has merely been transposed
to another of our spheres.

How long has she gone for?

There's no way of telling.

I did not press for
any sort of promise. Well...

Perhaps she'll come back
when she runs out of hair lacquer.

Why would she do that, Cyril?

Why would she just pack up her home,
her job, her whole life,

and go running away halfway across
the world? WE did it.

We said goodbye to people.

We tell them what was being planned.

Did Valerie have no love for anyone?

Did she not know
what her running off would do?

I think she did.

And she was afraid of causing pain.

People who are hurting like that,

they lash out, or they hide away.

Valerie is my friend.

She mean a hundred things
to a hundred people.

Not just me.

She would have liked my new hair,
too.

What new hair?

I think it's very fine indeed.

AMBULANCE BELL RINGS

You might only see a haemorrhage
like this once every Preston Guild,

but you certainly won't forget it
in a hurry.

Meanwhile, Mrs Turner's
just arrived, with a cake tin.

Oh, Dr Turner!
The very gentleman.

It's all well and good the Flying
Squad racing in through those doors,

but when they race out again
without the mother's notes,

it's slightly less impressive.

Now, if you need my assistance,
my price is a mince pie.

I've done a dozen with flaky
pastry tops, as an experiment.

And I'll take the notes to
St Cuthbert's Maternity by hand.

Come on, Teddy.

Come on.

And if you could make it clear

that the oversight was
on the part of the ambulance crew,

I'd be grateful. Thank you.

Excuse me. Shelagh?
It's Gloria.

Er, Gloria Venables.

We were in here together when, erm,
you were having this little fellow,

I think? Oh, Gloria!

You remember Shelagh,
don't you, Tony?

We were in here together when, um,
well, when we both had problems.

Nice to see you.

I always wondered how you got on.

Oh, well, not too well, at first.
Erm, I lost that one, as you know.

And then three more.

I'm so sorry.

Don't be.

I'm 38 weeks.

Did you have cervical cerclage,
Gloria?

They took the stitch out
last Friday.

I'm just here for a check-up
and then

I'll be back when I go into labour.

Do you remember what you told me
when we said goodbye?

"Next year,
or the year after that..."

"..it'll be a lovely sunny day
and I'll be down the market,

"pushing a pram.
And somewhere near the flower stall

"I'll look up and see you..."
"..pushing a pram."

"And we'll smile at each other
and pass the time of day."

We've managed almost all of it.

Except perhaps the sunshine
and the flowers.

Good luck, Gloria.

So, we managed to steal
a march on Mother Nature

by putting in that stitch.

Now it's time to let Mother Nature
call the sh*ts.

What if something goes wrong?

Goes wrong in what way?

Well, when it's being born,
or after it's been born.

It's taken us a long time
to get to this point.

And at this point, your wife is
just the same as any other mother.

She's carried an apparently
healthy baby to term.

And just like any other mother,
she simply has to go home

and think beautiful thoughts
until her time comes.

I can't think beautiful thoughts,
Mr Kenley.

I can only think of terrible,
terrifying things.

I really do urge you
to take her home, Father.

When the day arrives, you bring her
back here, hand her over - job done.

What does he mean,
"hand me over, job done"?

It'll only just be starting.

Look, we'll manage.
I promise you.

No, you can't promise me anything.

And I don't know
any of those midwives -

I haven't seen the same one twice.

Gentlemen, gentlemen,
have a Quality Street.

Oh, here they come! Here they come!
Oh, here they are!

CIRCUS MUSIC PLAYS, CHEERING

Roll up and book your tickets
for the Christmas Show!

Book your tickets now!

DOG BARKS

HORN TOOTS

Where's the polar bear?

CHEERING

You can't put a price
on showmanship.

What are you doing stuck back there?
You're missing all the details.

I'm not keen on clowns.

HORN TOOTS

Oh...

I hope we aren't going to regret
switching over to these

Lloyd George cards. They don't seem
to be particularly capacious.

We have a lot of chronic invalids
on our books.

Not to mention
some noteworthy hypochondriacs.

I recommend
a single stout elastic band

for the chronic invalids.

Two for the hypochondriacs.

DOOR OPENS

Mrs Turner?

Gloria! Whatever's the matter?

The thing is, if you decide to
transfer to our practice,

you can also switch your antenatal
care away from St Cuthbert's

and be looked after by our midwives.

You may still be advised
to choose hospital delivery,

but we'd care for you and the baby
once you come home, too.

Well, that would be better,
wouldn't it? Oh, MUCH better.[/fon

Well, we always say the best
care for any mother

is the care she believes in.
And you've had so many losses,

it's no wonder
your faith has been shaken.

I never got further than
six months before.

And they were all born too soon
to breathe.

Mr Kenley said it better
not to think of them as babies.

I, er, don't like to talk about it.

DOG BARKS

DOOR BURSTS OPEN

Go on, then.

I'm afraid animals are not permitted
on these premises,

for reasons of hygiene
and peace of mind.

Armande is a professional
entertainer.

You can't treat him
as if he were just livestock.

Perhaps one of your children
could remove him from the premises,

since you appear to have several.

Only two of them are mine.

Oh, three if you count this one.

BICYCLE BELL RINGS

It is not centrally affixed.

I have an unerring eye
for median precision.

Kindly oblige me, Sister,
and descend.

Sister Monica Joan,
you are not going up that ladder.

Sister Frances,
it looks perfectly fine to me.

DOORBELL RINGS

I'll get it. It'll be the postman.

There you go, Miss.
Thank you.

SHE GASPS

A Portofino postmark. Ah!

Ooh-hoo!

And every year,
I pause to remind myself

that I love my godmother dearly
for who she is

and the lovely experiences
we have shared.

And not just because she sends me
a dress allowance every Christmas!

TRIXIE GIGGLES

TRIXIE GASPS
Trixie. Have you had bad news?

She hasn't sent me
a dress allowance.

She's paid for me
to join a Marriage Bureau,

so that I don't end up,
and I quote,

"on the shelf".

We have delivered babies in caravans
before, Mrs Ellings.

How long is the circus
going to be here?

Well, we're meant to be heading
to Paris in the New Year.

It may well end up with France on
its passport as its place of birth.

Were you born somewhere exotic?

Scunthorpe.

Well, that might be paradise
as far as I know -

my dad never took the circus
back there again.

My mother died
when she was having me.

Oh, no, I'm sorry.

My dad goes into a panic
every time I fall pregnant,

in case the same thing
happens to me.

But you are doing very well.
You can assure him of that.

I do. Constantly.

And you've quite a trim tummy,
I have to say.

Well, I was doing ten shows a week
up until two months ago.

I'm an aerialist -
I spend half my life on a trapeze.

I shall be vexed if I hear of you
going anywhere near a trapeze

until well after Baby has arrived.

Oh, you never know.
Might shake something loose!

You're not on the shelf, Trixie.
You're just choosy.

Or men have been choosy.

It's not necessarily YOUR fault.

My godmother's implying
that it IS my fault.

She's simply implying that
you need to take a fresh approach.

Some of us,
when faced with an obstacle in life,

make prayer
our primary port of call.

Others go to a rather smart agency
in Mayfair

and ask to be introduced
to some nice chaps.

SHE SIGHS

She's written me off as a failure

without taking into account any
of my professional accomplishments,

or my personal achievements.

Do you know what she did
for a living?

Croupier? She was a hand model.

She used to hold bottles
of hand cream

and washing-up liquid
in advertisements.

I'm opening the Petticoat Tails.

I suspect we may need two each.

We can't eat the Petticoat Tails -
they've been put away for Christmas.

Sister Monica Joan?

We're about to have
some tea and shortbread.

Sister Monica Joan?

Argh!

GROANING

SISTER MONICA JOAN GROANS

Sister, how did you fall?

Did you lose consciousness?

I only know I don't know.

We need pillows and a blanket
and an ambulance!

I'm glad we went for the navy,
it's much smarter.

And with those new specs, no-one can
say that you don't look the part.

You mean like a shopkeeper?

We need to be on a much firmer
footing before we can

take on an assistant.

Besides, you need to get to know
the paper trade.

We sold three Beanos yesterday.

Oh! Now, you should take a leaf
out of Reggie's book.

I'd rather be at the circus.
I really want to see the polar bear.

Oh, now, it's a busy time of year
in the frozen wastes, Reggie.

That bear is gonna be
run off its feet - same as me.

I'd better get back
round the corner,

because the elastic salesman's
coming at half past.

Right.

The minute that clock
hits dinner time,

we are going down to the big top

to see if they need any papers
delivered.

And I believe the appropriate term
for such an exercise

is "market research".

No! I require no assistance.

SHE GROANS

We'll have to lift her.

I'm sorry. We cannot rule out
the possibility of a broken hip.

The patient can only be moved
with the greatest of care.

Sister, I think there might be
a Thomas's splint in the store room.

Good.

I've brought the gas.
Come on, Sister.

I'll show you what to do.

WHIMPERING AND GROANING

I will not leave her.

Only God knows
what He has now begun,

or where He might end it.

I'm going to see a tiger!

Good afternoon, gentlemen.

Watch where you're walking,
sweetheart.

The horses have just come past.

Can I help you?

Er, Fred Buckle,

of the Buckles' newsagent
and tobacconist, Wick Street.

I'm Jacquetta Percival.

Ellings is my married name,
but this is our family business.

Well, my young colleague and I
were wondering

if you might be in need
of a daily delivery?

Not half. I'll have the Mirror

and 20 Henley tipped,
Monday to Saturday,

and the News Of The World
on a Sunday morning.

No-one ever delivers
to caravan dwellers!

We aim to please. Don't we, Reggie?

I hope you're going to come
and see the show.

Where's the polar bear?

Oh.

Snowy?

Oh, he's not been well.

He's gone to a convalescent home
in the North Pole

till he feels better. Oh.

I'll tell you what.

Why don't I ask the ringmaster
if he'll sign a souvenir photo?

And you can help me feed the horses,
if you like.

Would you like that, Reggie?

Follow me.

Oh, Dad...!

I would not object
to being served tea.

You aren't permitted anything,

in case they decide
that you need an operation.

I've already spoken to the doctor
about your X-rays.

It is an unnatural business,

to have one's inner framework
exposed to the casual observer.

The soul itself
might be made visible.

He made no mention
of any...spiritual discovery.

He did say that your hips
were both intact,

which is miraculous
in someone of your age.

You speak of me
as though I am an ancient crone,

who cannot expect to survive
a simple stumble down the stairs!

But you have sustained a nasty
double fracture of the lower leg

and broken both your tibia
and your fibula.

You will not, I fear,
be home in time for Christmas,

or any time soon thereafter.

That's right,
keep your fingers straight,

so that Titania doesn't get them
mixed up with the carrots.

Have you ever looked after horses?

I've looked after a donkey.

Oh! Boys, why don't you take Reggie
round the back and show him Pablo?

He does tricks, you'll love him.

Come on, Reggie. Come on.

SWEEPS UP GLASS

I have nothing but compassion for
your pain and your incapacitation.

But after 60 years
in the religious life,

you are well practised
in forbearance.

You must draw upon that strength.

Or as my nanny used to say, what
cannot be cured must be endured.

And age cannot be cured.

It mauls and withers one.

It rubs one out, day after day,

like an Indian rubber
on a faded pencil sketch.

We are supposed to tolerate it...

..and I cannot.

I'm tolerating it.

You are younger than me,
in every facet of existence.

That does not mean that I am young.

I work, too, and it exhausts me.

I have people to serve,
and it humbles me.

I have Nonnatus House to save,
and it scares me.

What can I do,
to lighten your burden, Sister?

Pray.

Pray that money can be found.

Pray that the council will relent.

Pray that this time next year,
we are still in Poplar

and not putting up the shutters
at Nonnatus House.

How, pray, can I pray here,

in this den of din and disinfectant?

Thanks for this, Mr Percival.

What's your lad's name? Reggie.
Erm, if you could sign it[/fo

from Snowy as well,
he'd be over the moon.

You are aware that Snowy
isn't really at a convalescent home

in Greenland?
I had an educated guess.

I keep him up there.
Second shelf down.

A bit of him, anyway.

Between the Whitaker's Almanack
and the Russian dictionary.

I'd have put him in an urn,

but the public are more observant
than you'd give them credit for.

And here,
he can still be in the midst of it.

Snowy was never a back room
sort of act.

LOUD expl*si*n

SCREAMING

What was that?! Fire!

A gas canister exploded.

Dad. It's by the caravans!

Evacuate the stables!

Reggie?

Reggie! Reggie?

Has anyone seen my boy?

Reggie?

Reggie! Jacquetta,
don't go any further.

We can't do nothing. Do you hear me?

They're ours, Kelvin. They're ours!
Where are the boys?

Nicky!

Nicky. Reggie! Paul!

Nicky! Reggie?

Boys!

Boys! Nicky!

Reggie!

HORSES SCREAM

I told them - stay calm.
Oh, Reggie.

I told them it will be all right.

And it IS all right, Reg.

It is.

Well done.

You missed grace, Nurse Franklin.

As it happens, I missed it
because I was taking your advice.

I telephoned the Marriage Bureau
and spoke to a lady called

Miss Bathurst, and asked to be
introduced to some nice chaps.

Well, that's a bit of an about-turn.

Well, I decided
it was the best chance

of restoring some normality
to our lives.

There's nothing normal about asking
a strange woman to help you

get acquainted with strange men.

Lucille, everything is relative.

Nonnatus has barely escaped the axe,

Valerie's in South Africa, Sister
Monica Joan's in hospital, and...

..and Christmas dinner
looks set to be a wash-out.

That's not true!

Sister Hilda and I
are organising it.

I've been doing the invitations
with my stencil set.

We shall be having three courses,
cheese and biscuits,

and the Turner children,
for those who deem little faces

round the table to be a vital part
of the proceedings.

Nevertheless, if I don't go through
with this dating game,

I will not get my dress allowance.

And if I have nothing to wear,

it really will be
the end of the world as we know it.

Move it! Come on.

BARKING

What the...?

Ooh...

DOG BARKS

You can bunk down in the cab
of the truck, Kel.

Us three will do smashing in here.

I don't hold with theatrical types
in the general way.

They keep strange hours and leave
greasepaint on me pillowslips.

She takes her greasepaint off
with cold cream.

And we pay cash.

Hot water's on between five and
seven, and it's extra for the dog.

Is she in here? Is she all right?

COUGHING

I'm more all right than YOU.

My daughter needs looking at
by a medical professional.

COUGHS

Well, cough, Reggie.

REGGIE COUGHS

Sounds clear enough,

which is a miracle.

Reggie was a hero today.

Yeah, only because you took him
somewhere dangerous.

He could have come to
no end of grief.

He could come to grief anywhere.
Look at poor Sister Monica Joan.

I've got her a lovely bundle
of magazines,

including the People's Friend.

She'd rather have a Mars bar.

Here, Reggie, would you rather have
a Mars Bar, or...

..this?

What's that? Respect.

Reggie did a man's job today -
he can have a man's drink, on me.

CHILDREN PLAYING

Everything's exactly as it
ought to be,

in spite of this afternoon's
adventures.

Can you tell my dad that?

If that's him I can hear coughing,

I shall be telling him
to book in at the surgery.

It's the smoke, or the smoking.

Back under those covers, please.

You've had a day and half of it,
and you need rest.

I always need rest, Nurse.

I've got to get things straight.

We lost everything we had
in that caravan.

And what I've grabbed from the store
makes no sense.

The boys are dressed like Cherokee
Indians, and all I've got is

this selection of costumes, none of
which I can currently get my leg in.

Can I see?

You can see if they're fit
to cut down to baby clothes.

SHE GASPS

Just look at that!

I could make out
I'm admiring the workmanship.

But there's something about these
sequins that gives me goose bumps.

That's all in a day's work,
as far as I'm concerned.

Always has been.

You left your bag
in the clinical room.

Are you going to meet a matchmaker,
or running away from home?

I should never have said
I'd be in Mayfair by 4:30.

It means I have to go straight
from clinic, wearing an outfit

that represents my personality.

Why don't you go in your uniform?

I hardly think boil-washable cotton

and a three-ply cardie sum up
the essential moi, Lucille.

I don't want you going in black.

You're looking for love,
not attending your own funeral.

Good afternoon, ladies.

Until further notice, I'd like you
to keep all the St Cuthbert's ladies

logged and monitored
via a separate desk.

Is there a reason for that?

I'm conducting a review.

I also want every mother to fill in
one of these questionnaires,

which Mrs Turner has typed up
and printed off on the Roneo.

This must have occurred prior to my
arrival at the surgery this morning.

I popped by and did it last night.

As requested by Sister Julienne.

"Are you satisfied with the care
you are receiving from this clinic?

"1) Extremely. 2) Fairly. 3) No."

I've also been asked to place
a suggestions box

in a prominent position.

Suggestions box.

The phrase that springs to mind
is "never kick a hornet's nest".

Hello, Doctor.
Have you come to see my dad?

I'm under orders from Nurse Crane.

I have not sanctioned this!

I did not send for you
and I do not require your services.

I've got a circus to get
back on its feet after a fire.

Yeah...
And I am in excellent health.

And you are also being
extremely rude.

I can only apologise, Doctor.

If he were one of my boys,
I'd give him a clip round the ear.

I do understand you're busy,
Mr Percival.

I'm on a tight schedule myself.

And if you barged into
one of my clinics in a top hat,

banging a drum, I can't say that
I'd roll out the red carpet.

So how about we put
your daughter's mind at rest,

then we can both get on
with our day?

I'll do that.

Hello, Reggie!

Every living creature
has the capacity to entertain.

All that's required is the ability
to do something...unexpected.

There's more to everything alive
than meets the eye.

Isn't there?

I don't know how you're doing this.
Doing what?

Managing to keep on working,
with only one functioning lung

and another that's slowly filling up
with fluid.

Not to mention the side-effects
of the radiation treatment.

I manage,
so my daughter doesn't have to know.

How can you tell
about the radiation treatment?

I can see the burns
across your back.

And I've diagnosed
enough lung cancer in my time.

There's something here, now.

An enlarged lymph node.

It generally means that the cancer
is starting to spread.

Have you any idea how long I've got?

I would rather talk
about the quality of the life

that remains to you.
Over the next few months,

I can arrange for oxygen straight
away, along with pain relief.

And there's a procedure you can have
which will drain this liquid off

and make you much more comfortable.
No operations,

no staying in hospital overnight.

Even I couldn't fib my way
around that.

You know the best thing you can do,
even now?

Give up smoking.
We're sponsored by a cigarette firm.

We all smoke.

I make 'em smoke.

Not that the clowns
need much persuading.

How have you managed to keep this
from your daughter?

When I go for treatment, I tell her
I'm out researching new acts.

That's how I ended up
with these budgies.

And they're hopeless.

Mrs Meadows.

That reading's up, isn't it?

Only a little.

And I think that's probably
because you're feeling anxious.

When I was having Teddy,
I couldn't sit still.

I once wrote a list of things to do
on a relaxation leaflet.

What sort of things?

Buy nappies.

Wash nappies.

Dry, air, fold and put away nappies.

Buy feeding brassiere.

Buy baby soap.

Buy baby hairbrush.

Clean pram.

You know the sort of thing,
I'm sure.

I'm not sure I do.

Oh, Gloria.

Are you telling me you've made no
preparations for this baby at all?

I prepared for the first one,
and the second.

I ended up selling everything
through the small ads.

People would come to the house
to collect things.

The woman who came for the pram,
she already had a baby in her arms.

I don't want to talk about it.

You don't have to.

You're in OUR arms now, Gloria.

And by Christmas, you'll be holding
a baby of your own.

You ought to be getting home.

You only came to drop my paper
and my fags off!

Can I come back tomorrow?
If you want to.

We'll have a show to show you soon.

And Snowy might come back?

He may well do.

THEY CHUCKLE

Ah, and Daddy was a bank manager.

City or provincial?

He was mostly posted
to the London outskirts.

Twickenham, principally.
Provincial.

So, to summarise.

I am most favourably impressed
with your dress sense, diction,

poise, silhouette,
and general sense of polish.

I do have certain reservations
regarding your address

and your profession.

Would potential suitors
object to my living in Poplar?

They may be bemused
by you living in a convent.

Especially as you object
to drinking alcohol.

I object to being EXPECTED
to drink alcohol.

That isn't quite the same. Mmm.

And if a gentleman
isn't content to meet

over tea and smoked salmon
sandwiches, then I'm afraid

I don't consider him
to be a gentleman,

and therefore
he shouldn't be on your books.

Sign here.

We will see what we can do.

Lucille?

You usually call me Nurse Anderson
when I'm in my uniform.

Are you on an urgent call?

Only a routine district round.

Our church is going to be
closed down.

Mrs Theodore's
been wanting to go live with her son

in Dudley for some time.

But the church
only takes place in her house.

Her house isn't the church itself.

Not one person
in our whole congregation

has anything more than a single room
or a tiny shared flat to live in.

We have nowhere to go,
and nowhere to grow, either.

It hurts because some of our
congregation have been here years,

and worship in a rented house
is all they have.

And they call me Pastor.

It's only a courtesy title, but...
They mean it, Cyril.

Just as you mean it,
when you preach.

What if I can't do it, Lucille?

What if I can't lead them
to a better place?

You used to think
you couldn't preach,

but a way opened up, from your heart
to that mouth of yours.

A way will open up for this too,
if the Almighty intends it.

I wish I could send you to ask
the Almighty what He's planning.

You'll get it straight out of Him.

That's what you think of me,
is it? Bossy like a grandma?

Maybe.

Maybe just bossy like a nurse.

And you know what this nurse says?
Hmm?

Next wage packet you get,
you buy yourself a pair of gloves.

You're in England now!

I don't want you turning up
on my district round with frostbite.

Get your roasted chestnuts here!

How much for a bag?

Mrs Buckle has agreed
to stay open later.

Will it just be us?
Just us, Mrs Buckle, and this list.

I think you'll do best if I order
you a double D, feeding-wise.

White or Carnation Beige?

I'll go for Carnation Beige.

I'd suggest six
of these little vests.

The interlock type will be best
for a winter baby.

Will six be enough?

Well, some mothers do
go for the full dozen.

Six. With two dozen napkins,
three pairs of plastic pants,

and six of the brushed-cotton
nighties - that's sleepwear

and the underneaths
completely taken care of.

Must we get everything all at once?
No, of course we don't.

We've got quite a lot done
for one day.

It's, uh, all so real,
all of a sudden.

I'm glad you accepted the invitation
to Christmas dinner at Nonnatus.

Oh, I'm sure it will be
most congenial.

As long as the meal itself
doesn't challenge my digestion.

There's always
a proper family atmosphere

round the table, I grant you.

But the smell of turkey grease
does cling to the proceedings.

Even my individual nut roast
takes on a tang of the farmyard.

I shall bring liver salts

and remind myself
that were I not there,

I'd be spending the day alone
after attending morning service

at my Spiritualist Church.

Oh, it does rather leech
any glister from the day,

waiting for ghosts to come through
from the other side.

Do you know what I dread, above
and beyond any item on the menu?

That sense that I'm the maiden aunt,
perched on a chair

with a glass of sherry,
only invited out of kindness.

Indeed.

And feigning delight when presented
with another box of bath cubes.

Oh, I could have built the Great
Wall of China out of bath cubes.

Go on, Millicent.
If you could have anything

you fancied for your Christmas
dinner, what would it be?

I hardly dare tell you.
It's almost too disgraceful.

If I had my way,

I'd have a nice plain plate
of baked beans on toast,

and a milk stout in a lady's glass.

I wouldn't have a savoury course
at all.

I'd go straight to the sweet,

and it would be
a simply enormous bowl of trifle,

washed down
with a Harvey Wallbanger.

A Harvey what?

It's an orange-coloured cocktail
that tastes somewhat of aniseed,

generally embellished
with a small umbrella.

In 1926, I had one,
at a Charleston contest.

It's lingered in my memory
ever since.

Leopold Morries.



Solvent,
retired actuarial scientist.

A strong interest
in Victorian taxidermy.

Moderate pulmonary problems

which are well controlled
by medication, in the main.

I shudder to think what decrepitude
those last three syllables imply!

Do you have any advice to offer,
Cyril? Hmm?

Er, I think
you are a good-looking lady.

You'll be a fool
to tie yourself down to an old man

who'd rather look at dead animals
than take you dancing.

I think we should just draw a line
under anyone called Leopold.

This one is called John.

He is a recently widowed teacher
with three little girls.

He isn't looking for romance -
he's looking for a nanny.

Sister Hilda!

We're meant to be working
on the Christmas dinner plans.

Indeed we are.

Item number six on the agenda -
pudding for the Turner children,

marshmallow snowmen...

PHONE RINGS

The Turners aren't coming.
Mrs Turner telephoned.

But we'll have more empty chairs

around the festive board
than people.

I refer you to my earlier remarks
about a wash-out.

This is Nonnatus House.

I'm afraid that I am not a midwife.

What fresh cataclysm has befallen
that...

..YOU are deployed as a telephonist?

Sister Monica Joan?
You haven't managed to escape yet?

The infirmary authorities
have conspired against me.

I thought Sister Julienne was coming
to visit you this evening?

She has departed,
leaving little in her wake

except a mound of indifferent grapes
and a conversational desert.

How about Lucille and I
come and see you?

And bring some tangerines
and a bit of black bun?

If you so wish, I have no objection.

But I advise
that you attend forthwith,

for I intend to be discharged
by Christmas.

Say goodbye, Sister.

We've a procedure to attend to.

What are you doing
with the telephone?

Nobody else was going to answer it.
And it was Sister Monica Joan.

PHONE RINGS

Nonnatus House.
You are speaking to a midwife.

Can somebody come out
and look at my wife?

She's upstairs
at the Black Sail pub.

And tell them to bring
extra newspaper.

It's a brand-new mattress.

Timothy and I used to love
having our Christmas dinner

at Nonnatus House.

They'd always let me
carry the pudding in.

It would be nice to go again,
though, sort of for old time's sake.

We need to be doing things
for new time's sake, Timothy.

To honour the family we've created
and the life we have now.

Besides, there was so much upset
with May's mother last summer,

it would be good to remind her
how secure things are.

Two bicycles, all wrapped up and
ready to send to Father Christmas.

Mummy?
Can I come for a drink of water?

Stay where you are!

Mummy's going to bring you one up.

I don't like the look
of the turkeys at the butcher's.

We'll order ours from Fred Buckle.

It isn't just any old mattress.

It's fully box-sprung.

Church Times.

Financial Times.

Titbits.

Nothing but the best.

We are not leaving this room

until I am content you are giving
her the very best of care.

I shall be giving her an enema
in a minute,

which I beg to inform you
is not a spectator sport.

She hasn't eaten since breakfast.

Should I nip out and fetch us all
some pie and mash?

No banqueting in the delivery room.

And no fathers.

You round up this family of yours

and get them fed, watered
and out of your wife's way.

That includes you. I'm HER father,
not the baby's.

Out. Now.

Come on, boys, out you go.

Come on. Quick smart.

And no dogs!

And...relax.

Just because you work in a circus

doesn't mean you have to give birth
in one.

It's not too late to add
the ichthyologist to the list.

I have an aversion to fish,
Miss Bathurst,

so no ichthyologists, thank you.

And no facial hair.

Meanwhile, I've planned
my accessories

to reflect multiple moods
as I deem appropriate.

Pearls for restraint,
a scarf for pizazz

and evening gloves
for a hint of sophistication.

What's the mink stole for?

Mink is mink. There doesn't have
to be a reason for it.

Did I tell you one of them's German?

I brought a dictionary,
just in case.

QUIET GROANING

That's the ticket.

Make as little noise as you can.

Save all that energy
for when you want to push.

I don't yet.

I'm happy standing here,
just getting closer and closer.

I've never had a mantelpiece
to lean on before.

I've always lived in caravans -
given birth in them, too.

I'm tired this time round, though.

Oh, this is so nice.

And you're so lovely.

SHE PANTS AND GROANS

MUSIC: Santa Baby
by Eartha Kitt

Good evening, how are you?

# Santa, baby

# Just slip a sable
under the tree for me

# Been an awful good girl

# Santa, baby

# So hurry down the chimney tonight

# Santa, baby

# A '54 convertible too, light blue

# I'll wait up for you, dear

# Santa, baby

# So hurry down the chimney
tonight... #

MUSIC DROWNING SPEECH

Babies. Babies.

# Think of all the fun I've missed

# Think of all the fellas
that I haven't kissed... #

I understand that you're
a private nurse.

# Next year I could be just as good

# If you check off
my Christmas list. #

I'm not getting anywhere.
I'm just not. Nonsense!

You're going to grab that next pain
and ride it like a wave.

Jacquetta.

Staying on your feet has served you
very well thus far.

But you were tired when you started,

and you need all your energy
to push this baby out.

Let's get her semi-recumbent.

Come on, there's a good girl.

We can try the gas and air again
once you're a bit more comfy.

Feel like my arms and legs
are made of lead.

Oh, you don't need arms and legs
for a good, effective labour.

It's like I've got no strength.

Long, calm breaths, now.

JACQUETTA MOANS

Her pulse is 130 and her
respiration's also very rapid.

Shall I send for Doctor?

Tell him elective forceps,
but we do need him quickly.

And tell him we'll need more gas
and air, if he would be so kind.

HUBBUB

Give us a kiss, Sister.

Put me out me misery.

I shall put you over my knee
if you don't let me pass.

Whoa!

What's the matter?
Why does she need the doctor?

You're going to push,
but I'm going to pull.

The thing to remember, Jacquetta,
is that Baby's in a good position.

We just need a bit of teamwork
to help get him out.

You're on the home straight now.

Ready with the first blade.

And the second blade.

Push now. Come on, pet.

Push.

SHE WAILS AND SOBS

Try to keep working WITH me,
Jacquetta. Keep trying to push.

I think she's had
a touch too much gas.

Contraction.

Come on, lass, you hang on to me.

Head.

Clamp.

And we have some meconium.

Is it a boy or a girl?

It's a boy.

BABY CRIES

THEY EXHALE THEN CHUCKLE

# Away in a manger
No crib for a bed

# The baby's been born

# And we're wetting his head! #

CHEERING

Any chance of a proper
circus christening this time?

Out of a top hat,
in the middle of the ring?

Is that the tradition?
As old as the big top itself.

You did it to me,
you're not doing it to my kids.

All I ever wanted was peace, quiet,
a bay window and a privet hedge.

Perhaps you would be so kind
as to locate the baby's father,

and inform him
that his son has arrived.

Promise me
you won't leave Jacquetta alone?

JACQUETTA PANTS AND GASPS

Are you in pain, Jacquetta?

Your hands are cold, lass.

We're just going to look you over,
Jacquetta,

and make sure that everything
is as it ought to be.

Check her pulse.

Pulse is up. 150.

You've had your orders, Mr Percival.

Out!

She's cyanosed.

Her lips are going blue.

Orders revised.
We need an ambulance.

Tell them we've a newly delivered
mother who is having a heart attack.

I thought she was haemorrhaging.
Run!

Pulse up again.

It's all right, he's fine.

Air...

No...air.

Get her sitting up. Quick.

Jacquetta, lass? She's fading.

Your work's not done.

Listen.

Baby needs you, Jacquetta.

Listen, that's your little boy.

Hold.

Yes.

He's coming, lass.
Hang on, he's just coming.

Here he is.

Here's your baby.

That's it, lass.

You take your strength from him.

PHONE RINGS

Mrs Turner, it's my Gloria -
she's not doing so well.

She won't stop crying, Mrs Turner,
I don't know what to do.

Firstly, you must call me Shelagh.

And secondly, your timing's perfect.

My husband's just come home.

Hubby's meeting us at St Cuthbert's.

Are you sure you don't want
to go with her?

She's in the best of hands.

And there's somebody else
that needs some looking after.

Everything is completely normal.

But I'm not having it yet?

There's no change in your cervix
to indicate labour.

It says "incompetent cervix"
in all my notes - you've seen them.

Yes, I have.

What we're going to do is this.

Keep you in here, with regular
checks from our midwives,

until you go into labour.

Are you awake?

An enquiry that cannot be answered
in the negative.

I have my breviary, and thought
we might say Compline together.

I would rather you read through
the Christmas edition

of the Radio Times.

But you don't have a television
in here.

There is a television
in the parlour at Nonnatus House.

Sister...

I'm not going to give you
false encouragement.

You're going to be in hospital
for a number of weeks.

Quite apart from anything else,

you're not going to be able to
manage stairs for months to come.

Do you need to ring for a bedpan?

I would have thought of it
an indignity once.

Now I should embrace it
with good grace?

A catheter? Oh, you poor pet.

It tethers me
more than the cast upon my leg.

I am as racked and pinioned
as a game bird,

and no matter how I rail,
I cannot take flight.

Jacquetta's where she needs to be,
with doctors who can help her.

You concentrate on your own
wellbeing for a moment.

I keep thinking,

is it my fault?

Did I work her too hard?
Did I force her

to live a life that's k*lling her
because I[font color=

In my line of work, Mr Percival, I
meet a very wide variety of people,

and they have a very wide variety
of aspirations.

There's no one dream
that suits us all.

I don't hold with dreams.

They get in the way of action.

Hmm. Be that as it may, Mr Percival,
dreams can be lovely things to have.

Jacquetta wants her own mantelpiece.

I would have relished
a life on the high wire.

There are so many things
that must feel like flying.

I once tried to work Snowy
into the high-wire act.

He wouldn't co-operate.

More fool Snowy,
that's all I have to say.

Come on,

before that oxygen wonders
what it's done to offend.

Oh, will you just look at that.

I've spent my whole life
making people gasp, making magic.

And then Mother Nature
goes and steals a march on me.

It was the big top I was admiring,
not the snow.

And I'd be obliged if you didn't
tell me how you make the magic.

It might interfere
with my imaginative process.

Well, we can't have that.

Imagination isn't generally
associated with

a demeanour like mine.

But I rather enjoy my occasional
forays into fantasy.

I find I can give the real world
such a buffing-up.

You want to see me on that trapeze,
in my mind's eye.

I'm 35 years younger,
slim as a rail,

and I've got legs as long
and flexible as ribbons.

In my mind's eye,

I'm Charlton Heston
in The Greatest Show On Earth.

Ah!

SHE CHUCKLES

Go on, get inside,
before you catch your death.

SHE SIGHS

What are you doing out of bed,
Mrs Venables?

It's the middle of winter.
You need your slippers on.

I've started having pains.

Ah-h, Mrs Jacquetta Ellings,
elective forceps delivery by GP,

followed by collapse and probable
acute cardiac arrhythmia.

Any suggestions?

Mr Greenhill?

Hypovolemic shock, sir?

Did I say at any point that the
mother had suffered a haemorrhage?

No, sir.

Peripartum cardiomyopathy,
or heart failure.

It can develop late in pregnancy, or
in the weeks immediately afterwards.

Heart failure? No cause for alarm.
You've lived to tell the ta

My mother died
while she was having me.

Do you think that might be
what happened to her?

Best not to start fretting
over ancient histories.

Proper medication and continued rest
will rectify this problem.

And, of course,
no more of these babies.

We'll get you fitted
with a Dutch cap.

And off we go, gentlemen.

That's it.
Try to just breathe the pain away.

She's been going on like this
for hours.

Can't you give her gas?

The gas and air machine
is in the delivery room.

And I'd rather wait
until your labour's more advanced.

Knock, knock.

Here we are. Hot, sweet,
and with a Bourbon in the saucer.

Well, can't he take it
out into the corridor?

It's not FOR him, it's for you.
Ugh...

I'm quite sure
there's another in the pot.

Get your Christmas turkeys!

Oven-ready turkeys. I'll pick up
Christmas Eve afternoon.

And a complimentary Christmas pud
while stocks last.

Hello, Doc, what can I do for you?

I am under instructions to order
a turkey big enough to feed six,

hot, with all the trimmings,
plus sandwiches at teatime

and enough for a fricassee
on Boxing Day.

That'll be a large, then.

Take a free Christmas pudding.

In fact, take two,
cos that one looks a bit dented.

Are you...are you not coming to
Nonnatus House, then?

Not this year.

It's just going to be us, at home.

Everyone will really miss
the kiddies.

Well, if that's what you want.

I've always been a bit
"the more, the merrier", Fred.

Well, you leave this with me.

Shelagh, we had a laugh when
we were in St Cuthbert's, didn't we?

Yes, we did.

I'm having to remind myself.

Why? So that I can remind you.

So you don't think that I've always
been this miserable so-and-so

who can't churn a smile out when
basic good manners call for one.

You're about to have a baby -

I'd advise you to forget
about basic good manners.

And I don't think
you're a miserable so-and-so.

I think you're someone whose
strength has been tested

too many times.

And having to be brave
can make us so afraid.

Were you afraid, when you had Teddy?

Sister Julienne delivered him.

So I had a friend with me,

just like you.

So then why am I so stuck?

Why can't I make this happen?

Oh, Nurse Crane.

A Mr Percival just telephoned,
from the circus.

He asked if you might call in
and see him today.

Me personally?

I imagine he's having trouble
with his oxygen supply.

I'll squeeze him into my rounds
this afternoon.

I was at the desk looking
for the London Directory Of Clinics.

It's mostly a list
of private facilities.

Ah. Seek and ye shall find.

Hm.

PHONE RINGS

Gloria is fractionally more dilated.

We could move her in here now, but
it's a bit of a bleak environment,

if she's in for a long haul.

I think there's something
Gloria isn't letting in.

Something she can't address,

or accept, or admit.

And if I'm right,
I don't know if I can bear it.

Hey-hey! Ho-ho!

Oi!

Mr Percival's in his office.

Reggie! What are you doing here?

Working.

Oh, I like the lad.
He makes a decent cup of tea.

Sometimes, in the middle of winter,
that's all that's required.

Mr Percival.

I was under the impression
that you needed to see me

because you were unwell.

Lights, if you please.

CIRCUS MUSIC PLAYS

I thought you were starting
Boxing Day.

Nadia, if you could take the lady
to backstage, as we discussed.

DISTANT CIRCUS MUSIC

Snowy.

R...I...P.

Madame.

I pride myself on always
being game for an adventure.

This isn't a mere adventure,
Nurse Crane.

This is the substance of dreams.

All you have to do is trust me.

And for the rest of your days,

you'll know what it is to fly.

SHE LAUGHS

MUSIC SWELLS

Wheeeee!

Wheeeee!

I know RIP means dead.

Well, it doesn't mean dead, as such,
Reg...

It means rest in peace.

People lied.

Sometimes people lie because,

oh, they don't want you to be sad.

I'm not stupid.

No, you ain't.

Snowy died, because animals do,

like people do.

You understand all of that.

And some of it,
you understand more than most.

You gave me beer
and said it was respect.

I want respect.

Oh, Reggie.

And beer.

Thank you, Mr Percival.

That was a very rare privilege.

MUFFLES COUGHS

Now it's time
for you to trust ME.

I'm telephoning for an ambulance,
because you need to go to hospital.

Gloria.

You said you don't like to talk
about your other babies...

I don't like to talk
about my other pregnancies.

There were seven of them.

That's a lot of not talking,
and a lot of pain.

Every time they sent me home,
after I'd lost another one...

..after they'd taken it away,
and never let me see it...

..they'd say the same thing.

The doctors.

The nurses.

My mother.

My friends.

"Put it out of your mind."

And so I pretended that I had.

Even with Tony?

And all the time,
my mind has been full of them.

Everything I never saw,
I could imagine.

I knew if they were boys, or girls.

I knew the colour of their eyes.

I knew everything.
And I still know it, all of it,

and all of them.

Because I've never let them go.

Mothers don't, do they?

Mothers let go all the time.

If they didn't, there wouldn't
be room for love to grow.

The one I lost when we were
in St Cuthbert's was a girl.

It was the furthest I'd ever got,
and I used to think,

"This one's different."

"This one's fierce.
This one's going to make it."

SHE GROANS

In my mind, I call her Ruth.

It's such a strong, plain name.

Tell us about her.

Tell us about Ruth.

Ruth's three now.

Nearly old enough
for dancing lessons.

She's got long hair, and now
I've started tying it in bunches.

Oh, it's, uh, it's thick and brown
and has golden threads in it,

that catch the light on a sunny day.

And when I kiss her head,
it smells of Vosene.

They all smell of Vosene, my babies.

Clean children are loved children.

Every one of mine is spotless.

The one after Ruth,
she was another girl.

Yeah, I called her Rebecca.

My first boy was Brian.

He'd be eight and a half now.

He's got rosy cheeks

and scabs on his elbows
from coming off his go-kart.

I have to tell him not to pick
at them but...he doesn't listen.

GLORIA GROANS

David was next.

But he's not like Brian, no.
He's quiet.

Loves the small things,
like spiders and caterpillars.

Even wasps.

He looks at their wings
through a magnifying glass.

He's always asking "Why? Why, Mum?"

We all know THAT feeling.

And then there was Peter.

LOUD GROANING

LOUD GROANING

Have you told us about
all of your babies now, Gloria?

Brian, David...

..Peter,

Ruth...

..Rebecca,

John...

..and Anthony?

Thank you, for saying their names.

You're fully dilated now, Gloria.

When you feel ready to push,
you can.

SHE GROANS AND WAILS

This is the head coming, Gloria.
Just pant now.

Pant...

Pant.

Perfect.

Your baby's head
is resting in my hand now.

I swear
I can hear that snow falling.

BABY CRIES

What is it?

It's a little girl! You can hold her
the minute I've cut the cord.

Could you...could you do it?

I'm a mum, Shelagh.

I'm a mother.

You've been a mother
for a long, long time.

You look better.

You look better
in a top hat and tail coat.

They're letting me out tomorrow.

What for? Good behaviour?

I'll be back in
the day after Boxing Day.

They're going to drain
some fluid off. And after that...

You need rest, Dad.

I need to close the circus down.

Not yet.

I could sew you
a sequinned ruff or something.

Like I did for Snowy,
when he started looking decrepit.

God love you, Jacquetta.

You always put the graft in,

even when all you wanted was
a bay window and a privet hedge.

Anyone can have a bay window
and a privet hedge.

You gave me...

..a cathedral made of canvas...

..and a bird's-eye view
of people gasping.

You gave me stardust, Dad.

I didn't have much else.

Well, it may interest you to know

that I have been given permission
to go out tomorrow afternoon.

Where to?

A christening.

In the ring.

Him?

Him AND the other two.

I want to do it properly, Dad.

I want to do it the circus way.

I might have had enough, but...

..my boys have hardly started.

Maybe it wasn't my stardust
any more,

but who's to say
it won't be theirs?

It is in their blood.

You're in their blood.
You always will be.

Just like your mother is in yours.

PHONE RINGS

Dr Turner's surgery.

Millicent? Yes? Phyllis!

I'm feeling suddenly emboldened.

Oh!

Ooh!

SHE CHUCKLES

Rachel Rose.

I like that.

I wanted "R" names,
like our other two girls.

I wish you'd told me how much
you thought about them all.

I thought it might make them
less real if I did.

MUSIC: Once In Royal David's City

Is that the Sally Army Band
playing outside? Yeah.

I gave them two bob on my way in
and asked them if they did requests.

That'll be something to tell you
when you're a big girl,

won't it, Rachel Rose, eh?

Two inches of the white stuff
and your own brass band.

Yes, it will.

Oh, yes, it will.

# Ta-da! #
Oh! Who's the lucky chap

this evening?
An Oxford-educated financier

with a double-barrelled name

and investment interests
in luxury goods and perfume.

Oh, I hope he isn't fibbing!

Ah, Chant d'Aromes by Guerlain.

Wish me luck.

Sister Monica Joan?

I come bearing gifts.

And I brought you a surprise.

I will not have him here.

Go...

Go!

I thought you would be pleased
to see Cyril, Sister.

I'm too ashamed.

Oh, precious, your catheter bag
has come adrift.

PIANO PLAYS
WE WISH YOU A MERRY CHRISTMAS

There is no medical reason
for her to be catheterised.

It has all been done
for convenience.

And not, I might add, hers.
Excuse me.

What do you think you are doing?

I am attending to the comfort
and dignity of one of your patients.

Which, as a visitor,
I would not be obliged to do

if that patient
was receiving proper care.

We need to get her back
where she belongs. We're going to.[/fo

And what's more, we're going
to do it before Christmas.

I'd like my bill, please.

If you wait half an hour,
there's an offer on sparkling wine.

I'd like my bill now.

THEY LAUGH

BIG BAND MUSIC PLAYS

# Ta-da! #

May I do it now,
before we lay waste to the feast?

As we agreed.

And thus we meet,
we spinsters twain

To dine and to make merry

No politesse must we endure

No bath cubes and no sherry

Indulge we now our heart's desire

And for that gratifying reason

I propose a heartfelt toast

To friendship
and the yuletide season.

Happy Christmas.

We can easily make this a bedroom.

But Sister Monica Joan may never
recover the ability to walk

or climb stairs unaided, if at all.

For months to come,
she will require full nursing.

And who better to do that than us,
and here, at Nonnatus House?

We are skilled, we are willing,
and between us all we have the time.

I spend so much of my life
trying to be the voice of reason,

sometimes I...

..fail to hear the voice of love.

# Oh, the weather outside
is frightful

# But the fire is so delightful

# And since we've no place to go

# Let it snow, let it snow,
let it snow

# Man, it doesn't show signs
of stopping

# And I've brought me some corn
for popping

# The lights are turned way down low

# Let it snow, let it snow... #

MUSIC CONTINUES ON THE RADIO

CHILDREN SQUEAL

Patrick, that turkey
is supposed to be oven-ready.

It's dead...
What was Fred playing at?!

SHE SCREAMS

Ugh!

It's a start.

I've just taken a telephone call
from a Miss Bathurst,

regarding your involvement with
the Albion Introduction Agency,

apologising for a misunderstanding
yesterday.

The gentleman
was at the wrong hotel.

I'm starting to suspect
that when it comes to men and me,

they are always going to be
in the wrong hotel. Or I am.

One of the great maxims of my own
passage through this life has been,

"Seek and ye shall find."

One cannot stand still,
Nurse Franklin.

Because challenge, excitement
and a change are heading towards us

at some speed.

Are we going to close after all?

No.

We are going to expand.

Early next year, I will be
revealing...further details.

ALL: Aww!

And I baptise you,
John Percival Ellings,

in the name of the Father,
the Son and the Holy Ghost.

And may His love shine upon you,
wheresoever you might go.

CHEERING

Where are you going?

I am telephoning Nonnatus House

to see if they have any room
at the inn.

MATURE JENNIFER:
And so it is Christmas,

as eternally different
as it is the same.

We come together, drawn to the place
that we call home,

or where we are simply welcomed in.

We can be broken,

but we still belong.

We can be fragile,
but are valued all the more.

We each have our place,

our part to play,

our seat at the table,

and our purpose.

The future will not be unwrapped
just yet.

We cannot know if it holds
the things we dream of.

And if only for today,
that is exactly as it ought to be.

For now, the moment
holds us in its arms.

We are as safe as a child once was
beneath a star

and swaddled in a manger.

There is no darkness
that is of any consequence.

THEY LAUGH

And there's not one space
that is not filled with love.