All Creatures Great and Small

HELEN: James, you were talking to Banerjee.

You blame yourself for what happened.

I'm so sorry.

SIEGFRIED: I know what war is like.

You're disappointed I didn't suffer enough.

I imagined we'd have more common ground.

TRISTAN: I know that I've been lucky.

I just, I would enjoy your company.

I'd like that, too.

(buckets clattering outside) MRS. PUMPHREY: Good evening, Mr. Farnon.

(laughing) Where do you want it, Mr. Farnon?

Just in the back, fat end first, please.

Marvelous-- that looks lovely.

MAN: Merry Christmas to you.

SIEGFRIED: And to you, sir.

Found the old wrapping paper.

MRS. HALL: Oh!

(both chuckling) Well done.

Had to stop his nibs here from ripping it all to bits.

The little monkey.

(exhales) Perhaps he'd like to help us make paper chains.

Yes, it's about time he made himself useful.

I've flour and sugar put aside for the cake, but there's no chance of a Christmas pud.

And I'm not convinced by Alice Dinsdale's blackberry mincemeat.

Hm.

I know.

It's a poor show for your first Christmas, in't it?

It's not the end of the world.

At least we'll have plenty of potatoes and sprouts.

Well, that might be all we have.

The butcher said this morning I'd more chance of flying to the moon than getting a roasting joint this side of Christmas.

Although I may have a lead on something better.

Oh, yes?

I just need to pop out for a bit.

(Jimmy babbles) (door opens) Very mysterious.

I won't be long.

(door closes) JAMES: Hello!

HELEN (laughs): Did you have to bring home half the countryside?

You said you wanted holly.

Well, if nothing else, we'll certainly look festive.

(inhales): Ah-boo!

(coos) (horse neighing) (talking in background) TRISTAN: Now, you won't have met many mules before now, but they're the animals you'll be dealing with mostly out in the field, so you need to get to grips with them.

Trouble is, much like Yorkshire farmers, they're stoical buggers.

(laughing) And it's not always easy to tell what's wrong with them.

Take colic, for example.

I'm assuming you didn't miss that week of veterinary college, Duggins.

No, I didn't.

When a horse has colic, you can see he's in pain, but your mule just soldiers on.

So, what symptoms do we look for?

A high pulse and a discolored membrane.

And if we need further confirmation?

Best thing is to listen to its gut.

Give that man a coconut!

(laughing) You want to hear rumblings.

No gut sounds means you're in trouble.

Oh, now you're just showing off.

(groaning) (chuckles) A word, Farnon.

How are they getting on?

Very good, sir-- they're a bright bunch.

Hm-- and you?

No, I wouldn't call myself bright, but I'm willing.

Hm, you'll be glad to hear I've got a special project for you, then.

Sir?

Things are heating up since the Japanese attack.

And with the Americans on board, this particular project might prove vital to our joint efforts.

Pigeons.

Pigeons, sir?

Yes.

We're bolstering the colony for a number of upcoming classified operations, and I need you to source a dozen of the fittest and fastest for breeding.

You've plenty of pigeon fanciers in the Dales, haven't you?

I believe so, yes.

And you don't know the first thing about them, do you?

They're really not my area, sir.

Right, well...

I reckon you might be surprised, Farnon.

They're bloody heroes, these little birds.

If you say so, sir.

Yes.

Now, I don't care where you find them, but we need the best of the best, and ideally, we need them before Christmas.

Think you can manage it?

Yes, sir, absolutely.

Good.

(shouting): Hey!

You!

Pockets!

You let us down, Duggins.

(men groaning) Right, what have we learnt?

You.

MRS. HALL: Merry Christmas.

(baby babbling) (softly): Right.

12 coupons, as agreed.

Ta, Audrey.

You're a lifesaver.

Oh, I'm glad to help.

And you said we could pick it up on the 21st?

I'll have him put it aside under Farnon.

Wonderful.

You all right, Christopher?

What've you got there?

My pet snails.

Oh.

That's an unusual pet.

Mm.

That's nothing.

We've had a bat, a duck.

Lord knows how many mice.

(chuckling): Sounds like our house.

My boss, Mr. Farnon, he's a vet.

He even has a pet rat.

Does he?

Don't go giving him ideas.

Oh, it's...

It's quite sweet, once you get to know it.

(shudders): Ooh!

Right, well, come on, you lot.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas, girls.

CHRISTOPHER: Merry Christmas.

ETHEL: Come on.

Merry Christmas.

(chuckles) (car door closes) Come on, then, you bugger.

Ooh!

(exhales) See?

It's not too big.

(door opens and closes) We just to need to find something to hold it in place.

Right.

(Jimmy cooing) Ooh!

Well, you look pleased with yourself.

I've just got us a goose for our Christmas dinner.

No, really?

HELEN: How?

(laughs) Miggins' sister's eldest is getting married, and she needs extra clothing coupons, so we came to an arrangement.

Audrey, you're a marvel.

(Helen and Mrs. Hall chuckling) Oh!

Oh, I'll do it.

Will you watch him?

Come on, oh, there we go.

(laughing): Oh, steady on.

Oh, he's raring to go today.

I think he'll be walking by Christmas.

MRS. HALL: I wouldn't be surprised.

Did you decide what you're going to do for his birthday?

We thought we might have a tea party.

Do it up at Heston on Christmas Eve.

MRS. HALL: Oh, that'd be lovely.

You know, I could make a birthday cake instead of a Christmas one.

Aw!

Just 'cause he were born on the 25th don't mean he should miss out.

JAMES: Exactly.

Can't have our boy being upstaged.

Not even by the Big Man himself.

(clicks tongue): James-- he'll send a thunderbolt.

(music playing on radio) (exhales) Who left that bloody great fir tree outside?

Afternoon, Mrs. H. Hello, Tris, love.

I was rather hoping you'd help me bring it in, actually.

So, this you done for Christmas, then?

Mm, no such luck.

Been lumbered with a special assignment.

I would sound enthusiastic, but it's hard to be excited about pigeons.

What?!

Surely you remember Granddad's pigeon loft.

A bit before my time, I'm afraid.

I suppose it would be.

But they're remarkable birds.

They can find their way home from 1,000 miles away.

So can I.

Not without a map and compass, you can't.

And they proved themselves invaluable in the last war as very reliable mail carriers.

You must've heard of Cher Ami.

Rings a vague bell.

Amazing bird.

Shot through the wing at Verdun and still managed to save the lives of 200 soldiers.

You should look it up.

(Jimmy babbles) JAMES: All right, Tris?

Mustn't grumble, Jim.

Well, good afternoon.

At last, a chance for some intelligent conversation.

(doorbell ringing) So, tell me, Jimmy, what wonders have you encountered today?

MRS. HALL: I'll get it.

HELEN: Your tea, your lordship.

(Jimmy babbling) (all exclaim) SIEGFRIED: Yes!

Good heavens.

(yips) Christopher?

Christopher!

What's all this?

(music playing on radio) Feel free to lend us a hand, James.

Sorry, I was only asked to find holly.

(chuckles) If it's pigeons you're after, you should talk to Enoch Sykes.

(radio music stops, announcer speaking) Oh, yes?

Yes, he's bred champions for years.

I'll find you his address.

(shushing) All right.

Something's happened.

ANNOUNCER: ...that HMS Prince of Wales and HMS Repulse have been sunk whilst carrying out operations against the Japanese attack on Malaya.

An official communiqu issued by the Japanese claimed that both were sunk by air attack at around 5:00 this morning Greenwich Mean Time.

No further details are yet available.

The Repulse?

Edward's ship.

We have to tell Audrey.

(music resumes on radio) Yes.

Yes, I think perhaps I should.

Mr. Farnon.

We've rather an unusual patient arrived.

I told him to wait by the front-- what is it?

What's wrong?

I'm afraid there's some bad news.

The Repulse came under enemy attack.

She's gone down off the coast of Malaya.

(music playing on radio) I see.

What about survivors?

They don't know how many yet, but they should know more by the morning.

What did they say?

Exactly?

SIEGFRIED: Only that the Prince of Wales and the Repulse had been sunk, apparently by Japanese aerial attack, and they were awaiting further reports.

(breathes deeply) Well, there's no use worrying till there's more information.

Exactly.

For all we know, it may not be as bad as it sounds.

They're sure to have released air support and local rescue boats.

Yeah, Tris is right.

Can't be certain of anything yet.

Quite.

There, there's a, there's a boy, Christopher Taylor.

(chuckling): He's brought in a fox.

A fox?

He's in the waiting area.

Right, yes, um...

I'll take care of that.

(breathes deeply): All right, then.

Better get the tea done.

Oh, I can do that.

I've only the potatoes to do.

Still, if there's anything we can do to help... You can move that.

James, could you... You, you should really have left him where he was.

(yipping) It's not a good idea to handle wild animals.

I know.

But he kept coming into my garden, and I thought he might be hungry, so I put him some food out.

Well, that was hardly sensible.

Most people consider foxes to be vermin.

Especially farmers.

A lot of people say the same about rats.

Well, anyway, I...

Saw his tail and I thought summat were wrong with it.

(shushing) (whines) (shushing) It's just a little bit of mange.

Nothing too serious.

Can you fix it?

I can give him something to clear it up, but then I have to take him back out into the wild.

You could always put him in woods.

That way, he's not near many farms.

That's not a bad idea.

And I could come with you.

(pants) Yes, I suppose you could.

(fox whining) (breathes deeply) (door closes) SIEGFRIED: Through here, Christopher.

Apologies, Mrs. Hall, we just need to take this little chap back where he belongs.

(whispers): Thank you.

(birds chirping) JAMES: I'm sorry, I didn't hear him at all.

HELEN: Oh, he was just a bit restless, he settled quite quickly.

(Jimmy babbling) JAMES: That's good.

Good morning.

HELEN: Morning.

Morning.

SIEGFRIED: Good morning, young Jimmy.

Tea's in the pot.

Wonderful, thank you.

(panting) Any sign of Tristan?

The paperboy didn't come, so he, um... (door opens) (door closes) What does it say?

Well, they believe around half the crew have been lost.

But that means at least half of them survived.

And there's bound to be a lot of confusion, so it could well be more.

Exactly.

Anyway, they say they'll be publishing a list of casualties in the paper in the next few days, after they've informed the next of kin.

All right.

(chair sliding) Um, while I remember... Miggins is putting aside a goose for me.

It'll be ready on the 21st, if you wouldn't mind picking it up?

No, of course not, but, um, we really don't need to worry about Christmas right now.

Well... (sighs) It's less than two weeks away.

Tris is home, James is home, and not to mention it's Jimmy's first birthday.

There's lots to do.

I know, but we can all be...

I just want to be ready.

I suppose it's best she keeps busy.

(Jimmy fussing) Once we know for certain, different matter.

You're talking as if it's a foregone conclusion.

Siegfried's just being realistic.

No, he's assuming the worst.

You realize there's still a 50-50 chance?

The reports said at least half have survived.

God knows how many others could've been picked up.

You're right.

We don't have enough information to draw conclusions.

I know.

Is there anyone you could talk to?

I suppose I could call the Admiralty office, though I don't think they'll be able to tell us anything yet.

The best thing we can do is carry on as normal.

Speaking of which, I looked up that address for you.

What address?

Enoch Sykes, the pigeons.

(talking in background) (pigeons cooing) (knocking, dog barking) (pigeons cooing) (knocking): Hello?

(door rattles) (dog barking in distance, pigeons cooing) SYKES: Don't you go fussing!

(wings fluttering) Plenty of room for the both of you.

No need for that carrying on.

Is there, Ripley?

(pigeons cooing) Hello there, Mr. Sykes.

Who the bloody hell are you?

Tristan Farnon, from the RAVC.

The where?

The Royal Army Veterinary Corps.

I don't care where you're from.

Get down off my wall.

I'd like to talk about using your pigeons for our breeding program.

I've been told they're particularly fine specimens.

You can bugger off, will ya?

Sneaking about and spying.

You're not coming near my birds!

No... (sighs) (sighs) Oh, for God's sake.

TRISTAN (knocking): Mr. Sykes.

Mr. Sykes!

What the hell are you playing at?

As I said, Mr. Sykes, I came to talk about your pigeons, but I couldn't help but notice, some of their deposits have rather a green tinge.

You what?

It could point to any number of gastric conditions-- possibly even a parasite of some kind.

Oi!

Keep your voice down.

Left untreated, there's always a danger it could decimate your entire flock.

Get yourself in here.

Standing out there, shouting the odds.

Has Battersby put you up to this?

Mr. Sykes, I can assure you...

Ten years he's been after my feed recipe.

I wouldn't put it past him to try summat like this.

I'm here on official RAVC business.

Aye, well, there's nothing wrong with my birds.

In which case, you'll have no objection to my taking a look inside this loft here.

You can look, but don't you touch owt.

You know, they really are beautiful.

I can see why you're so proud of them.

But actually, Mr. Sykes, I'm seeing a lot of green feces in this one.

Give over.

Some of it looks almost luminous.

Well, there's a couple with upset stomachs, but they'll be right in a day or two.

Perhaps, but speaking as a vet...

I've got no time for veterinaries.

Never have had.

Well, why don't I just take a few samples to see if we can get to the bottom of what's causing this?

In case it is something nasty.

And you'd do that out of the goodness of your heart, would you?

Let me run a few tests on a couple of the affected birds, see if I can solve the problem.

And if I can, then maybe we can discuss the breeding program.

Well... Ripley.

He's been out of sorts for a day or two now.

Now, it would be a terrible shame if the problem were to spread.

Or if, say, Battersby were to get wind of it.

Right-- you can take him.

But only till tomorrow.

And I'm not making no promises.

Thank you, Mr. Sykes.

(footsteps approaching) HELEN: Shall I make us a brew?

Aren't they expecting you up at Heston?

They can manage.

Audrey...

I can't imagine what you're going through.

But you're not... Helen.

(inhales) I know you mean well, and I'm grateful, but, please, just... Just go to Heston.

(coos) (animals lowing and braying) Dad heard it on the radio.

He was sure it was Edward's ship.

We're just praying he's amongst the survivors.

How is Audrey, love?

Putting on a brave face-- you know, just trying to keep going till she knows more.

Yeah, well, send her our best.

I will.

Where have you two been?

We've been looking at cows, haven't we, Jimmy lad?

Hey?

I tell you what, he's not daft.

He's taking it all in.

(babbling) I know!

I know!

I reckon he'll be talking soon-- look!

Oh, don't you start.

James is convinced he'll be walking any minute.

Aye?

Well, he might be right.

You were a fast walker.

I remember your mum taking her first steps, yeah?

Straight into a cowpat.

Eh?

(laughing) Born farmer.

What's this about a tea party, then?

They're not expecting our Jenny to make a cake, are they?

No, I'll make it.

(quickly): Yes, yes, that'll be much better.

Much better that you make it.

Ooh!

(both laugh) What's she doing to your granddad?

(giggles) The powder should do the trick, Mrs. Gough, but if Genghis has any more problems, just bring him back in.

Thank you so much, Mr. Farnon.

Thank you, bye-bye.

Bye-bye.

(door opens) Success.

What you got there?

One of Enoch Sykes' famous pigeons.

(door closes) He let you have one?

Well, not exactly, actually.

I was hoping you could give me a hand.

A few of his birds seem to have some kind of gastric problem.

Oh, yes?

If I can figure out what's wrong with them, I reckon he might lend me a few of the good ones.

So, I thought we could take a few samples, you can diagnose the problem, and then, hey presto, I'm the new poster boy for "Pigeon Weekly."

Yes, those samples might prove a little challenging.

How so?

This pigeon's dead.

Oh, God.

"Should a postmortem be required, see diagram M." Have you got anything?

Sorry, no mention of luminous green guano.

(groans) (sighs) SIEGFRIED: Of course, a less accomplished vet would simply send the animal off to the lab for testing.

But then you'd have to wait for the result.

(sighs) Although it is an extraordinarily fiddly and delicate procedure, a pigeon postmortem.

All those tiny clustered organs, each one crucial to the diagnosis.

One mistake and... (chuckles) Well, it's, it's all over.

But I'm sure you know what you're doing.

(exhales, scalpel clatters) Envelope.

Envelope.

The lab.

The lab.

Well, I guess we'll just have to wait, won't we?

(breathes deeply) (whispering): You're not there.

(catches breath) SIEGFRIED: I promise you, Mr. Sykes, I did pass on your message two days ago.

Yeah, and the time before.

In fact, you're in luck, he's just walking towards me.

(softly): No, no, no... (imitating Siegfried): Terribly sorry, Mr. Sykes.

Seems I was mistaken, but I'll have him call you soon.

What on Earth... Was that supposed to be me?

I don't know.

Tristan, you cannot leave the poor man in limbo.

And I'm not going to.

I'll call him as soon as I get the lab results back.

But you've failed to tell him that his pigeon is actually dead.

I thought it better to break the news in person.

Besides...

I have a bigger problem.

Which is what?

I've tried five other breeders now, and nothing doing.

One of them even slammed the bloody door in my face.

Yes, well, they're very protective of their birds.

With good reason, in this case.

(mutters) Hello there.

Where you off to?

Hm... (door creaks) Oh, I see you.

(fox snuffling) (door creaks) What are you doing?

(sniffs) You shouldn't be in here.

Are you hungry?

Is that it?

They're dog biscuits.

I know you'd prefer meat, but I thought you might like 'em.

Quite nice in here, in't it?

(sighs) Ah, here he is.

I'll leave you to it.

(panting) Now, then.

Where the bloody hell is my pigeon?

Mr. Sykes.

One day, we said!

That were nearly a week ago.

Yes, sorry.

Things have been, um, rather busy.

Just go and get me me bird, will you?

Unfortunately, that won't be possible at this precise moment.

Oh?

Why not?

Well, I'm afraid to say that, um, despite my best efforts...

He's dead, in't he?

Well, if one were to define it in clinical terms, then yes-- I'm sorry.

And you've been ignoring my calls like a damned coward.

I can see how it might look that way, but I was just waiting for the lab results to come back.

Looking after your own backside, more like.

There were nowt wrong with them birds.

And then you turn up, and they're all dying.

What, other birds have died, too?

That's what I just said.

You're like a great bloody raven.

I beg your pardon?

A raven.

Unluckiest bird there is.

Well, that's a bit strong.

And don't think you can go playing your tricks on other breeders.

'Cause I've warned them all.

They know all about you.

Come on, Betty.

(Betty panting) (people talking in background) (spoon clinking) Doesn't that make a good noise?

Yes!

You all right there?

I was just thinking about Jimmy's presents.

There are so few toys in the shops at the moment.

Oh, he'd be happy with an orange on a stick.

Wouldn't you, eh?

Well, I think we can do a bit better than that.

(chuckles) Oh, about bloody time.

The lab results from Sykes's pigeon.

Audrey?

Thanks, love.

So?

Lead poisoning, apparently.

Oh.

I wonder where from.

TRISTAN: No idea.

But the old bugger can hardly blame me for that, can he?

(sighing): I suppose I'd better get up there and have a look.

Anyone have any chain mail I could borrow?

(laughing) (laughs) Edward.

(breathes deeply) December the second.

He must've posted it before... Audrey.

(door opens) (door closes) You see, this is just what I was worried about.

Sorry?

You should never have got her hopes up.

EDWARD: Sending this early so it will reach you by Christmas.

Shall write more when I have time, but for now, I have a favor to ask.

A pal of mine, Paddy Grainger, has just been invalided back home.

He lives in Skipton, 10 Millpark Street.

Could you take him a bottle of rum and some of your shortbread, if you have the sugar, as a Christmas present from me?

Love from Edward.

SYKES: Lead poisoning?

What a load of cack.

The tests were conclusive, I'm afraid.

It must be coming from inside this loft.

That one is fine.

If summat's poisoning 'em here, how come they're not still badly?

What, they're not?

They're right as rain.

I thought you said others had died.

Aye, two of 'em.

But that were over a week ago.

Just after you last come.

So you stay where you are.

That is strange.

It couldn't be something in the feed?

I haven't changed that recipe in ten year.

The only thing that's different round here is you showing up.

There is one other thing that's different.

You could barely get out of that chair last time.

Aye, lumbago-- I've never had it so bad.

I'm all right now.

Couldn't even stand up to feed the birds.

I really need to take another look inside this loft.

I told you you're gonna stay where you are.

But the birds could get sick again, and as a vet, I have a duty.

(sputters) (exhales) Hmm.

SYKES: What are you on about?

It can't be paint.

That paint's been there 20 years.

Just show me exactly what you did when your back was bad.

Wha...

Please.

Waste of bloody time.

Go on.

(pigeons cooing) Hmm.

(feed clatters) Hmm.

And there's your answer.

What?

Yeah.

Every time you flung it in like that, little flakes of lead paint got mixed in with the feed.

So it were all my doing.

Oh, my.

I, uh, rather feel you owe me an apology.

So I gave a couple of 'em a quick dose of calcium sodium versenate, and now he's agreed to lend me his six finest to take back to Doncaster.

I'm driving them up tomorrow morning.

What's that, Tris?

SIEGFRIED: Sykes has decided Tristan is no longer the bird killer of Darrowby.

Come on, jump off.

Is he asleep?

Big lump.

Out like a light.

So, Mission Pigeon Breeder is a go.

But don't worry, I'll do my best to make it back for Jimmy's party.

Oh, me and James have been talking.

We don't think it should go ahead.

I'm sure Mrs. Hall wouldn't want you to cancel on her account.

I know, but it just feels wrong, celebrating.

She can't even bring herself to sit down here with us in the evening.

And as for Christmas Day, I don't think she can do that, either.

No.

I'll speak to her in the morning.

(people talking in background) MRS. HALL (yelling): Mr. Farnon!

(fox whimpering) Mr. Farnon!

Mr. Farnon, come quick!

(fox yelping) Mr. Farnon, I need your help.

All right, through here.

It looks like a particularly nasty dog bite.

You can see the puncture wounds.

Where did you find him?

(whimpering) He were curled up in the shed.

Our shed?

Is this the same fox that boy brought in?

It is.

Well, judging by the state of the wounds, he was bitten more than 24 hours ago.

I haven't seen him for a couple of days.

You see, this is what happens when animals lose their fear of humans.

They no longer keep their distance.

(fox whimpers) It's all right, it's all right.

The wound's already infected.

The kindest thing now is to put him down.

What?

No.

No, you can't do that.

Well, there's little chance he'll recover.

It's just a simple injection.

And why should you get to decide?

He's one of God's creatures.

Why should you get to decide if he lives or dies?

Whose life's important enough to be saved?

That's not right.

That's not... (crying): ...fair.

(sighs) You shouldn't... You shouldn't... (sighs) (door closes) What did you say to her?

(talking indistinctly) All right-- best behavior.

(pigeons cooing) MAN: Good lad.

So...

These are Yorkshire's best flyers, then.

So I'm told, sir.

I hope you're right.

For all the modern equipment and advanced technology, it's still these little birds that we rely on at the end of the day.

How many are in the colony, sir?

At present, around 500-- that's just locally.

There must be at least 100,000 in service across the country.

And we have to keep the numbers up because they keep on getting shot down.

Bloody warriors.

(bells ringing in background) Ah, one of the fellas wanted me to give you that.

Mm.

(chuckles) They were given their deployment orders last week.

Burma.

They've been deployed already?

Mm.

They've been given a couple of days' leave and then they're off.

Right.

Don't worry, Farnon.

You're staying put for a while.

You're much more use to us here as an instructor.

Right.

Thank you, sir.

Anyway, the, the fellas all speak very highly of you, Farnon.

They wanted you to have that as something to remember them by.

Merry Christmas, Farnon.

(chuckles) (laughing and calling) (child laughing) (bell rings) Hello there.

Afternoon.

(bus hisses, engine revs) (knock at door) MRS. HALL: Paddy Grainger?

PADDY: Yes.

MRS. HALL: I'm Edward Hall's mother.

PADDY: Oh, come in.

(door closes) Please, have a seat.

Thank you.

These are for you.

Just a few biscuits I made.

Oh, and Edward said in his card that it ought to be rum.

Yeah.

Eddie always gave me his rum ration.

Said he didn't care for it himself.

Thank you.

So, your hand.

Is it badly broken?

Crushed.

Got trapped in a winch.

Sorry to hear that.

Shouldn't have been working it, by rights.

Was just helping out.

Because you work in the engine room, don't you?

Like Edward?

Aye.

Sorry, you must think me daft, but Edward don't write much about his work.

The engine room, that's, that's down in the bottom of the ship, in't it?

Aye.

I'm going to ask you something, Paddy.

And I need you to be honest with me.

Please, Mrs. Hall.

I don't know any more than you do.

I've been checking the papers every day.

So have I.

So if he were down in the engine room when the ship were hit...

He wouldn't have stood a chance.

He couldn't have-- I'm sorry.

(sighs) He was a good man.

The best of 'em.

(crying): I'm sorry, Paddy.

Excuse me.

Yeah, that's not too bad, is it?

I just didn't want Audrey to be worrying about it.

Well, Jimmy doesn't know any better.

He's probably going to grow up thinking they're all meant to look like that.

(James chuckles) HELEN: Hey!

Don't you start.

What shall we do?

Do we wait for 'em?

Well, we could always just do our presents.

Go on, then.

I know you're desperate to show me.

ALDERSON: Now, then.

Blimey, what's all this?

You said we had to get two lots of presents, one for birthday and one for Christmas.

I know, but he didn't have to have them all in one go.

Ah, well, might as well open 'em, while they're here.

(Jimmy coos) Ah!

You got him some wellies.

They're not just some wellies, they're your wellies.

It's first pair we got you.

Aw.

Thanks, Dad.

They'll be perfect for him.

In two or three years' time.

(James chuckles) (Helen gasps, Jimmy babbles) HELEN: Oh, Dad.

Where'd you get all this?

ALDERSON: Some fella down at Drovers were having a clear-out, thought, uh, thought our Jimmy might like it when he's a bit older.

HELEN: I think he'll love it.

Thank you.

There we go, look!

Look.

(Jimmy babbles) Right.

Look inside.

It's a doctor's kit.

No, no-- I made him his own little vet's bag.

See?

HELEN: Ah!

Look, it says "J. Herriot & Son" on the front.

HELEN: Ah!

JAMES: So he can take it along with him on visits.

See?

Oh, James, that's a lovely idea.

Give over!

(Jimmy cooing) JAMES: See?

He likes it.

And there are some forceps.

Now then, Jimmy, look at that cow.

HELEN: Oh, that's so good.

Eh?

He's just like the ones you're gonna be milking when you're a bit older.

Only it's a bit smaller, and made of lead.

Unless he decides to be a vet.

What're you talking about?

There's five generations of farming blood in that lad.

True, but there's plenty of father and son vet practices.

Aye?

He's gonna be a farmer like his mother.

Well, it's a bit early to decide that yet.

Aye, it might be, but you can tell by looking at him, he's got farmer's hands.

(crying) All right, that's enough.

With the brains of a vet!

Both of you, that's enough.

He'll be a farmer.

It says "& Son" on the bag.

James... "Alderson's Farm" it says.

Both of you!

He's a baby!

Not wishing his life away.

(crying stops) As long as he's happy and healthy, that's all any of us could want.

Isn't it?

He'll be a farmer.

Dad!

SIEGFRIED: He's not out of the woods yet.

He may not even make it through the night.

(sighs) But I've done what I can.

I'm sorry.

I should never have fed him.

It's all right.

(sighs) (exhales deeply) Jimmy's birthday tea.

They understood.

(sighs) You can wish him a happy birthday tomorrow.

(sighs) I keep seeing him in the water.

Clinging on to a piece of wreckage.

Or on a little island with no way of sending a message.

I just keep going round and round every possible place he could be, but...

I cannot imagine him dead.

And I know it's ridiculous.

It's unrealistic.

But so long as there's a chance, I have to keep believing he'll come home.

(bird squawking) (Jimmy babbles happily) (toy rattling) (Jimmy laughing) Merry Christmas.

(chuckles) (birds chirping) (telephone rings) (groans) It's like animals don't know it's Christmas.

TRISTAN: I'll get it!

(Jimmy laughs) Hey, Jimmy, my boy!

Hey.

Good morning.

Good morning!

JAMES AND HELEN: Happy birthday to you Happy birthday to you (phone continues ringing) Happy birthday, dear Jimmy, happy birthday to you!

(phone continues ringing) Hey!

Hey!

There we go.

(phone continues ringing) (yawns) (groans) North Pole veterinary service for wounded reindeer.

How can I help?

OPERATOR (on phone): This is the operator.

I have a long-distance call for Mrs. Audrey Hall.

Will you accept it?

(stammers): Uh, y... Of course, one moment.

(breathes deeply) How is he?

Well, he's no worse.

He made it through the night.

And he may even have turned a corner.

(house door opens) (groans) Mrs. Hall, there's, um...

There's a telephone call for you.

(inhales) Audrey Hall speaking.

OPERATOR: Putting you through now.

EDWARD: Happy Christmas, Ma.

Edward?

Aye, it's me.

(crying): Merry Christmas, son!

Where are you?

(crying) There were nothing in the papers!

(laughs) Right, no, no-- no, don't worry about me.

Just, just write me a letter when, when you're able.

And take, take care of yourself, son.

(sobbing) He's all right.

He's injured.

But he's all right.

Where is he?

He's in hospital.

In Singapore.

(sniffles) I think he's been in a bad way, but he says he's on the mend.

Why did no one tell you?

Well, it wouldn't be the first time a telegram had gone astray.

They should have sent a pigeon.

(all laugh) HELEN: Oh, Tris!

Oh... (laughs) Oh, God.

(Jess panting) Oh, you'll be wanting your breakfast.

(laughs) Jess, move!

Oh!

(sniffles) And we'd better get that goose on.

Yes, let's do that.

Where did you put it, Siegfried?

Sorry?

The goose.

Where did you put it after you collected it from Miggins?

Ah.

TRISTAN: Oh.

About that... Oh, you absolute donkey.

Oh, Siegfried!

I'm incredibly sorry, Mrs. Hall, it totally slipped my mind.

Not to worry, we'll come up with something.

I can't believe I forgot-- it's unforgivable.

It don't matter.

Nothing matters.

(laughs): Not today.

I think we all need a festive drink.

Sherry, Mrs. Hall?

Oh, that would be lovely.

Whiskey for me.

And a double for the wee man.

I'll go and get him.

That really is the most marvelous news.

Yes-- yes, it is.

Is everything all right?

Absolutely.

I found out yesterday my latest batch of recruits have been deployed.

Does that mean you have to go... No-- no, no, no.

I'm staying in Doncaster for the foreseeable.

I'm very pleased to hear it.

Mm.

I'm ashamed to admit I was pretty relieved, too.

I don't see any shame in it.

It's just, you forget sometimes, you know, exactly what you're sending these men off to.

I suppose that's why I was trying look on the bright side for Mrs. H. A part of me needs to believe that everything'll be all right.

Selfish, really.

Not at all.

It was exactly what she needed.

Love, I, I'm sorry to have gone on about Jimmy being a farmer.

Oh, you're all right.

He can do whatever he wants.

I've always said that about my kids.

They can go wherever life takes them.

This time next year, I'll probably be in Leeds.

No, you won't.

Dad!

SIEGFRIED: Thank you.

There we are!

MRS. HALL: We're just about ready.

Now then, Jenny, don't tell your dad.

Uh, before we start, I thought I might say a few words... Actually, Mr. Farnon, may I?

Yes, yes, of course.

(Jimmy cooing) Don't want it.

These past few weeks... ...been the hardest of me life.

And I don't think I'd have got through them without your kindness... ...and your understanding.

So I just wanted to say, from the bottom of me heart, thank you.

And more importantly, today is someone's special day.

(all chuckle) So I just wanted to say to young Jimmy, happy birthday.

ALL: Happy birthday!

You put a spell on me.

And Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas!

(all exclaiming) Cheers.

TRISTAN: Cheers!

SIEGFRIED: Oh, Mrs. Hall!

You've outdone yourself.

TRISTAN: ...sprouts divvied up!

(radio tuning) SINGERS (on radio): Let every heart I'll go first.

SIEGFRIED: Where were we?

We ready?

Yes, carry on.

Uh, nervous.

HELEN: Oh, oh... SIEGFRIED: Nervous person... HELEN: Dance?

Are you dancing?

Bird man, flying man.

Feather!

Feather!

SIEGFRIED (stammering): Birds, birds of a feather!

TRISTAN: Oh, for God's sake, it's "Midsummer Night's Dream."

JENNY: Oh!

SIEGFRIED: What's all the flapping?

TRISTAN: Clearly, I was being a fairy!

(Helen laughs) SIEGFRIED: I see.

("Joy to the World" continues on radio) Go on, boys!

JENNY: Right, it's your turn!

HELEN: Go on, James.

JAMES: Okay, uh... OTHERS: Two words.

SIEGFRIED: And a film.

JENNY AND HELEN: Film.

SIEGFRIED: Charlie Chaplin.

Uh, "City Lights."

JENNY: Dancing!

TRISTAN: Caveman.

SIEGFRIED: Uh, what is it?

Oh, no, um... Ah, yes, I know where you're going!

Yes, "King Kong"!

(all laughing, cheering) Yes, you made a lovely Fay Wray.

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