The Race Around The World siblings behind probably the most shifting TV second

Normal (sibling) service has been resumed. James has gone all little brother again, and is pulling his best ‘yuck’ face. He managed to keep it together for a while as big sis Betty talked about wombs and babies. But he slides down the seat as the conversation moves to — arrgh! — sex.

‘I don’t want to hear this from my sister,’ he says, pretending to cover his ears. ‘There are some things you shouldn’t know.’

Are these two suddenly the most famous — and adored —siblings in Britain? For the past eight weeks, Betty, 26, and James, 22, have captured hearts on BBC1’s hit series, Race Across The World, the show where five couples battle it out to get from A to B on a meagre budget and with no credit cards or smartphones.

The Mukherjee siblings, from Yorkshire, were an unlikely pairing, admitting at the start of the contest that they weren’t actually that close.

Nor did they seem on the same page, travel-wise. While Betty was an adventurer, always ready to don a rucksack (‘although I now think a lot of that was about running away from myself’, she tells me), James was more of a ‘Magaluf man’, happiest with a few beers and game of cricket to watch.

But what happened when the brother and sister (and their considerable life baggage) spent five weeks travelling 15,000km across South East Asia? Well, they might have lost their passports a few times, but they found each other. They bonded. And how. 

In the penultimate episode of the show, as the finishing line loomed and they faced tough days with limited food and sleep, they opened up to each other about very personal challenges they had encountered in life — things that threatened to derail them completely.

Particularly moving was watching the seemingly stoic James well up as he listened to his sister tell him about a health condition that means she was born without a womb and will never be able to carry a child. He had known vaguely about it, but, he admits, ‘honestly never gave it that much thought’.

Speaking afterwards to camera, though, he broke down in tears and, defences completely lowered, asked: ‘Can somebody just hug me please?’

The only person available, the BBC cameraman, obliged, but every viewer watching wanted to reach through the TV too. ‘Thank you cameraman for hugging him on behalf of five million of us,’ said one fan on X. Another dubbed it, ‘the most moving TV moment of the year’.

The brother and sister telling me the full story of their journey today (and not just the one that took them across Asia), did not actually win the contest. The crown, and the £20,000 prize money, went to best friends Alfie and Owen.

‘But we don’t care about that,’ says Betty. ‘So many people have told us that we ultimately won —and we do feel that we won something more valuable than money.’

They apologise if that sounds twee (being Yorkshire-folk, they are straight-talking), but as Betty says, ‘We found each other. Ironically, I’d been searching for a way to come to terms with my condition and the very person who was able to help me was James — who had been there all along. 

I hadn’t recognised what a strength he could be.’ By all accounts, theirs was a very happy childhood. Both parents were teachers, and they grew up alongside an older brother Matt (18 months older than Betty) who now lives in Canada.

They were sports mad. Betty played rugby; James, perhaps even more competitive, seemed on course to become a professional cricketer. When Betty was 16, however, her world fell apart.

Although she had appeared to enter puberty while still at primary school (‘James and Matt were treated to me showing them an armpit hair when it arrived,’ she says), her periods still hadn’t started by the time she was 16.

Each doctor she and her mum consulted — and there were about four or five of them — told her simply not to worry. Some girls were late developers. One (female) GP, though, referred her for an ultrasound scan. It turned out that although Betty had ovaries and eggs, she didn’t have a womb and had only one kidney.

It was her mum who broke the news: ‘When the results of the scan came through, the doctors called her and not me,’ says Betty.

‘On that day, I was performing in a production of Grease and, because Mum works at the same school, I’d gone to get dinner money from her. She’d seemed upset. I thought it was something the headteacher had said to her.

‘I went on stage as planned — I don’t think I would have done if I’d known. That night, she and Dad came into the room and told me I was missing some organs. I didn’t have a womb, so I’d never be able to carry a child. It was devastating.’

Betty was diagnosed with MRKH syndrome, which stands for Mayer-Rokitansky-Kuster-Hauser. ‘It’s named after the four people who discovered it,’ Betty explains. James adds that he never says it ‘in full’, because he can’t remember it. Today he struggles even with saying MRKH, ‘and the order the letters come in’.

‘But thanks to Betty, everyone is going to know about it now,’ he says proudly.

The condition affects one in 5,000 women, but, says Betty, ‘in nearly ten years I’ve never met anyone else with it. At the time most doctors didn’t know anything about it either.’

Betty had thought her life was going to revolve around children. ‘Some people just have a natural affinity for them. I knew I definitely wanted to have children, and also to work with them. I planned to study early years education. That’s where I saw my life going.’

‘One doctor actually said to me, ‘Well, it’s not as if you are thinking about that yet so…’ He wasn’t exactly dismissive, but it felt like that. To me it was important.

‘It changed everything, even my career path. I decided it would be too painful to be around children if I couldn’t have my own. It didn’t help either that I was classed as a child myself, so all my hospital appointments were in the children’s hospital, with babies and young children everywhere.’

MRKH is a complex condition that affects the entire reproductive system. It’s not just about the inability to have children — the vagina is not fully formed, which can make having penetrative sex difficult and for some, impossible. It is at this point that James says he can’t listen to any more.

Betty didn’t have a boyfriend when she was diagnosed, but was ‘at the stage of just talking to this boy I liked. He was the first person I really told. I said, ‘I have this thing which means I won’t be able to have children’ and he said, ‘Well I want to have children, so that means we can’t talk any more’ ‘.

The brutality of it floored her, and continued to do so when she had similar conversations with subsequent boyfriends. ‘There is no easy way,’ she says. ‘And it really doesn’t matter whether you have been with someone for just days or weeks or months. The conversation has to be had.’

For the past year, Betty has been in a relationship, with boyfriend Dan, who has her brother’s seal of approval. ‘Unlike some of the others,’ jokes Betty.

Has she resigned herself to a life without children? It’s more complicated than that. Because her ovaries do contain eggs, she has explored egg freezing, and has her hopes set on a womb transplant.

She is also finding out about surrogacy. ‘In fact, my mum has offered to carry a baby for me. My mum came in the day after and said, ‘I’ve worked it out. This is what’s going to happen. You are going to have my womb. I don’t need it any more’.’

Betty was 16; her mother was in her 40s. At the time, Betty thought her mother was ‘crazy’, but in fact, using egg donation via IVF, an older woman can carry a baby to gestation.

‘I was diagnosed in the February and in the October of the same year the first womb transplant happened in Sweden and a boy called Vincent was born,’ says Betty. ‘And so, I’ve grown up saying, ‘one day I am going to have a womb transplant’.’

Just before the race, she went for tests on her eggs, and was advised by doctors to put that out of her mind.

‘They said, ‘It is never going to happen’ (because the process is still in its infancy), which was a blow, but I’ve since spoken to the people at Womb Transplant UK who have said they are making good progress, so I should not give up on it. So Mum is still on reserve — in case I need her in the future.’ It may be more viable for a stranger to be the surrogate, though.

Betty admits she struggles with the idea — ‘I’m quite a jealous person and know I would find it hard to see someone else carrying my child’ —but at the same time, she says she’d ‘do anything to have a child’.

Hearing her talk so openly is moving since she simply didn’t for years. ‘It was a defence mechanism,’ she says. ‘Self-preservation. But when I did open up to James about it during this race, it felt good to share it.’

Sharing something so intimate with the nation is another thing entirely, though? ‘I was really nervous about what the reaction would be, but everyone has been so supportive.’

You get the sense that Betty and James grew up heaps during the TV show. Betty had already moved out of the family home by the time filming started (she is an events manager and owns her own home nearby), but now James, who works in sales, has flown the nest too. And the person he phones for advice?

‘It’s Betty now,’ he says. ‘It’s funny but since coming home, she’s the one I will go to, rather than Mum and Dad. It’s changed the whole dynamic.’

And while they did not pocket the prize, Betty has splashed out — on a washing machine. ‘No going back to Mum and Dad’s with her washing now,’ laughs James. ‘She was very good at that.’