Dr Eve Harbour is the only OC character I plan on adding , and Im hoping to get invested with all of the others and what makes them tick.

Disclaimer I don't own the rights to Call the Midwife nor will I make any money from this, I'm just hoping to finally write a fiction of my own and have at least a couple of people read/help/suggest and so forth to add to the small pool of fiction for this show. There really ought to be more for such an outstanding series P.s set before the Christmas special, Au but will try to keep characters canon;

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October 6th 1960

It was a cold dew filled morning in Poplar, Winter had come early this year and seemed as though it was here to stay. Most blamed the months of torrential rainfall, as though it had brought the chill in tow. Dappening the spirits of the already downtrod, matched only now by the frost filled windows that many say added a kind of magic or beauty to the impoverished town. However the circumstances only added to the monopoly of chores the women of Poplar carried out each morning before the men rose for the day.
The early hours when the sun had yet to rise were theirs and theirs alone; aside from the infant early risers which were few and far between during the darker days of the Season.

Little did Nurse and current Midwife Patsy Mount in residence of Nonnatus House know that a day just like any other... a Thursday to be precise, her whole World was about to change.

Meanwhile Dr Eve Harbour had risen a fair few hours ago due to rampant nerves... not that anyone could blame her being a woman and a recently qualified Doctor was an oddity if ever there was one. She always thought nay hoped the world would eventually catch up and begin to accept that women were as capable as men and that a Woman who has compassion or empathy should not be mistaken for sensibilities.
She reasoned with herself daily given most things in life are rather transient at best, why not be a Doctor, she was as capable as any man intellectually wasn't she?.

Patience or Patsy as she preferred to be called, Uncharacteristically has very little of the sort this morning. Not only was she on call from dawn but also burdened with a gargantuan headache that no Asprin would shift, regardless of faith. Add to this the current glacial and wholly unnecessary weather, in her opinion. As well as difficulties of late reguarding Deliahs' health. The latter causing more confusion and headaches than she care omit to, not even to herself. According to intermittent correspondence from Mrs Busby, Delia had been doing ''alright given the circumstances'' in comparison to what she had been following the accident and rather abrupt subsequent move back to Wales.

Until Patsy received a letter one month or so prior to today informing her that Delias' seizures hadn't occured at all in the last three months, which was of course a huge relief but also a surprise given Mrs Busby hadn't mentioned anything of the sort in her previous letter. However there was more, Mrs Busby dropped not only one bombshell that day but two, the second being that Delias' memory had spontaneously been restored to quote her Mother; ''We had been praying for cariads memory to be restored like a lamp that has finally been switched on, but maybe all along what she needed, was to just draw back the curtains''. It was this month old news that kept reverberating through Patsys' head, day in and day out only ever quieting whilst in the midst of work. The letter took a disheartening turn from there, during a required appointment given the circumstances that even though Delia remembered her life before...for the most part, it was as if she was watching it through a tinted glass, she knew it was her own and yet could not connect feelings to the memories themselves or perhaps feel anything at all.

The Doctors had described it as ''dissociation'', Delia herself had described it as if she were ''a ghost'' during the assessment...these words leaping off of the page each time Patsy re-read the letter. But perhaps the way in which Mrs Busby described her Daughter now was worst of all, although brief, held an clear indication of despondence. To be so truly relieved to have not only the recent memories Delia has made to thankfully stick but then for her whole lifetime too, only to realise that ''memories do not necessarily make a person whole''. Pats had shared her hopes that she could correspond directly to Deels now that the majority of her memories had been restored a month ago, however Mrs Busby informed her ''cariads penmanship is a work in progress at the moment, perhaps she'll feel up to it given some more time to practice''.

It was at this moment, whilst manning the telephone lost in thought of whether it was to be believed that Delia couldn't write or simply felt no inclination or desire to, that there was a rather loud knock drawing Patsy sharply out of her musings.

Eve had been rushing unnecessarily this morning given she'd made the hours of arduous travel down to London two nights prior. She checked into a fairly commutable hotel within a short bus rides distance, fearing she'd be late to Nonnatus house and her first correspondence with both Dr Turner and Sister Julienne at 9.30 prompt. Of course this was a very strange occurrence for both parties involved, Eve as you'd assume as a Doctor would be working in a hospital or clinic not planning on being somewhat of a liaison between Nuns Nurses Dr's and most important of all the expectant Mothers to be in the area. Although that being said Eve had been a Nurse to begin with... however her thirst for knowledge acing all her Nurse qualifications and then being set to work in Scarborough hospital, she couldn't help but feel at a loss some days. An irksome feeling really that there was something vital she was missing, besides patience, she had plenty when it came to the patients...Dr's however or some males in general had the horrible inconvenient ability to make her blood boil.

'Calm yourself Harbour, it's no time to be following that darkening trail of thoughts'. She turned the lane taking in Nonnatus and how truly beautiful it was, design and architecture being a secret appreciation of hers. Taking a large steeling breath momentarily forgetting the chill and taking a rather large lung full of bitter air, 'typical', she tread carefully across iced cobbles leading up the frosted steps and rose her hand. Bringing her knuckles down be it out of nerves or assumption the dense wood wouldn't echo quite so much, she'd knocked frightfully louder than expected and 45 minutes early too. 'fantastic' she thought, sarcasm being her first port of call and not always in the most appropriate situations or privacy of her own head either.