Chapter Three: Dealing with Diggers

The sun was starting to set as Trevor pulled into the Vicarage Orchard. He had always found sunsets beautiful, and managed to pull himself out of his dark thoughts to take the sight in. The sun was low, its yellow light spread across the horizon as it appeared to dip down into the ocean. The sky was shades of yellow, orange and pink, slowly turning into a darker blue on the outskirts. Stars were beginning to twinkle high above, hopeful little lights that seemed to dance around the moon. Trevor would sometimes ask for the doors to his shed to be left open so he could stare up at the skies above, becoming lost in his thoughts of days past when he was young and useful, and go to sleep dreaming about one day getting up there.

But today, not even the stars or the sunset could lighten Trevor's mood. The traction engine had managed to stop crying, but he had come home feeling dreadful. Even if Bill and Ben had been joking, they were still right: Trevor was too old to do anything these days except be a stationary display. It was probably safer for everyone if Trevor stayed in his shed during the Fete. That way there was no chance of a small child trying to climb onboard and becoming buried in rusted scrap metal when the traction engine collapsed.

"Alright Trevor, let's just drop your cart off and then we can get you in your shed for the night," Fred boomed, trying to sound positive, but Trevor wasn't having any of it.

"Okay," he replied glumly. Lock me away in the shed, that's right. Sleeping is all an old thing like me can do, Trevor thought a touch bitterly, but didn't let Fred know it. His driver had tried to cheer him up on the way back, but Trevor had merely ignored him as he remained within his own thoughts. The traction engine felt bad, and thought he would try and seem happier for his driver's sake.

Trevor's path curved around the edge of the orchard alongside the wooden fence, which was currently being inspected to make sure there weren't any damages. Trees seemed to mark their procession, a gentle breeze blowing through the green leaves high above, causing them to flutter down against Trevor's body. Many of these trees had been here longer than Trevor, with trunks the width of his cart and their thick brown roots beginning to poke through the ground. Trevor looked around at the trees, some of them bearing apples high on their branches, and wondered about what would happen to them when they got too old. It was most likely that they would be cut down and chopped up into firewood, or sent away and turned into timber.

Looks like we're all going to get chopped up into tiny pieces then, Trevor thought gravely to himself, remembering how piles of metal from the scrap yards would be whisked away to be melted down and turned into something else. Trevor had watched the scrap disappear with a grim heart, thinking then that it wouldn't be long until it would be his turn to be taken away. He may have escaped becoming scrap when Edward had rescued him, but Trevor wasn't going to escape his fate forever.

"Who is that?" Fred suddenly mumbled, and Trevor looked up. He had been so lost in his thoughts he hadn't noticed that they were now passing through an open section of the orchard where all the stalls had been set up. The ones Trevor had watched being fixed up earlier were now standing tall, their owners placing up signs advertising coconut shy's, lucky dips and shooting games, rows of prizes and targets lined up against the quickly set up wall.

Trevor looked around for what had startled Fred, and his answer came in the shape of a large digger thirty metres ahead of him. Trevor had seen construction vehicles heading along the main road or sometimes being brought in by Edward or BoCo, but had never properly paid attention to any or them until now. This digger was clearly modern, with a sleek metal body painted in a metallic blue that was still shining even though the sun had nearly set. Trevor would have expected it to be coated in mud, yet the digger looked spotless, perfectly showing off every part of his body.

"I told you that this would be easy," the digger called in a boastful but gruff voice, tilting his scoop and dropping a pile of dirt into a waiting skip. Nearly a dozen men from the surrounding stalls had come to watch the scene play out, and Trevor was fascinated by the digger as well. He moved smoothly, making only a little amount of noise, and the way he moved his arm definitely confirmed that this was a very new, very modern digger.

"Excuse me, but we need to get through," Fred called, bringing Trevor to a stop in front of the digger. The digger turned around, and Trevor got his first proper look at his face. While the body was flash and new, the traction engine found the face didn't match the body: the digger had a very rough face, almost as if it had been carved out of rock. His nose was lopsided and his eyes seemed too small and beady. Yet Trevor wondered if this was how he normally looked or if it was a special looked reserved for him: the daggered was looking at Trevor as if he was filth, his eyes glancing the traction engine up and down.

"I'd love to get out of the way, but I have work to do," the digger grunted back, still glancing at Trevor. The traction engine turned towards where he was digging, and it appeared that a trench was being dug up. Trevor wasn't sure why, but he knew that he didn't like the look of this digger.

"I understand you have work to do, but we have some important supplies to deliver right now," Trevor said stiffly, "so could you please move … um… I haven't caught your name, sorry." The digger smiled an ugly, twisted smile that made Trevor feel uncomfortable.

"The name's Daniel," the digger replied. "I think I know your name: Trevor, isn't it? Ah, that's right. When they called down and asked for a digger, George told me about an ancient, rusting traction engine I might bump into, and that seems to be you." Daniel the digger began to laugh, and Trevor flushed with rage. He wasn't upset like he had been with Bill and Ben, but was annoyed that a young digger he'd never met was starting to insult him.

"Now listen here Daniel," Trevor said sternly. "I have been travelling for a long time today, and I don't need to be held up by some self centred, arrogant young digger! Now would you please move out of the way for a few moments so I can get past?" The stall runners looked rather shocked by this stern outburst, and Daniel raised an eyebrow in surprise, a smug smirk crossing his face. Trevor himself was stunned that he had said it, but today he was in no mood for being mocked by a stranger.

"Certainly, I would gladly move aside," Daniel replied, the smirk still on his face, and he quickly and smoothly reversed backwards. Trevor managed to smile back at the digger, and felt relaxed as he began to move slowly forwards once again. "By the way, are you going to be coming past my construction site any time soon?"

"Your construction site?" Trevor asked as he moved past. "Do you mean the bridge near Suddery?" Daniel nodded, the smirk on his face beginning to make Trevor feel uncomfortable. "I believe so, there are usually some items to collect from near there. Why, are you going to be closed tomorrow?"

"Oh, no no, not tomorrow," Daniel replied, his voice getting deeper as he lowered it down to nearly a whisper. "No, I was just wondering if you were going to see it. It quite high up, gives a lovely view of the ocean in the distance. Trevor smiled weakly back, not quite sure what to say to this, but he had a strong feeling that it wasn't exactly a friendly invitation.

"Well, I may see you and the construction site tomorrow then," the traction engine replied. "Good day!" And with that, Trevor rolled past the rows of stalls, trying to ignore the unpleasant feeling his conversation with Daniel had left him with, and focussed entirely on delivering the supplies he had brought in.

Yet when Trevor had turned around, leaving his cart open to be unloaded, he watched the digger continuing to dig his trench, turning around only to dump the dirt into the waiting skip. There was something uncertain about the digger that Trevor just wasn't sure about, but the traction engine had a feeling that whenever Daniel turned to face him, he was still wearing that same smirk across his face, clearly having a private joke with himself at Trevor's expense. At first, Trevor thought it was yet another machine laughing at his age, but there was something different about this that Trevor wasn't sure about. He had no idea the nature of the joke, but his guess would be it had something to do with Daniel, himself and a certain bridge.