A/N: This is actually gonna be adapted by myself into an audio story! I don't know when, but recording has started upon it and I'm really looking forward to showing it to you all! Hope you enjoy this story, one of the long ones I'm afraid! XD
For this period of time, the North Western was doing well for being one of the regions of the British Network. No branch lines were at risk for closing and had even gain a branch line with the Little Western in the 60s. And now, the Midland region wanted to leave the Norramby branch line, with goods traffic going either up and down unpredictably and finding it now unsustainable to have a massive diesel locomotive look after goods trains that would vary so much.
In the end, the midland region decided to give the goods to the North Western region, which the Fat Controller gladly accepted. This meant that the horrid Norramby diesel who ran the goods on the line left the island for good, much to Gordon, James, Henry and even Winston's joy.
But their joy wouldn't last long. Since the diesel had left and goods had to be attended to on the branch line, the Fat Controller had sent Donald and Douglas there to take it in turns in pulling these goods trains. But the Fat Controller knew this wouldn't last very long with both Christmas and Winter coming up, the Caledonian twins would be needed elsewhere.
This meant that another engine was needed now and the stout gentleman made the announcement one cold morning in November. The engines were intrigued by this and James and Donald discussed this at the small yard at Vicarstown later that day.
"I tell you Donald," said James, rather darkly, "that if the Fat Controller brings another one of those blasted diesels in, I might as well to go to a heritage railway."
"Aye, I would be with yae there Jeames," Donald admitted, "but we've seen more steam coming here than diesels as of late."
"I know that!" snapped James crossly, "but we all know what happen at the end of the 50s, steam engines puffing along peacefully than those oily, dirty diesels came out of the gate of hell."
Donald gazed at James, rather cautious. "Are yae alright Jeames?" he asked.
"Yes," replied James, "why?"
"Yae seem a bit... I don't know... tense?"
James was about to reply, when suddenly, Winston puffed into the yards with a small goods train from his own branch line. "Alright there lads," he called, "what are you two banging on about?"
"Whose gonna run the goods traffic on the Norramby line," Donald replied, "steam or diesel."
"A diesel."
James and Donald blinked, surprised Winston blurted it out so quickly. They both looked at each other, then back again. "Why so confident?" James asked.
"Well," scoffed Winston, "haven't you done the geography? This line is still being run by DMUs by the Midland region! So, to cut cost of fuel, the Fat Controller will obviously buy another diesel so to not to pay to reinstall water tower and coal bunks at each station."
"But dinnae the Midlond regian pay for the coosts of fuel though?" asked Donald, "so would nae that be pointless?"
"Well, since the cost of maintenance on the branch line will be shared by both us and the Midland region, I see that this new contract that's being planned will allow us to share fuel stations for the DMUs and the new diesel," explained Winston, who seemed pleased with his answer.
Donald and James did admit though, that the midland engine had a point and seemed to be the most logical.
"Let's hope it's nae anoother rude diesel like thae last then!" said Donald, sounding annoyed by Winston's golden points.
"Yeah," agreed James, "if they are, they're find themselves be growling out of here!
Winston huffed a chuckle. "Don't let Bear hear that," he said, as he begin to puff off to the depot, "otherwise you'll be getting a twenty minute scolding by him."
"More like a rrant," Donald whispered to James, the red engine chuckled.
*
It would come to a surprise that the Fat Controller was planning to buy a new diesel engine and had thought the same reasons of why. He knew he couldn't buy another steam engine, but truth be told, he really wanted to. He had heard some still remained in the scrapyards, and there were rumours that the drug used to numb them up had all but gone out. He had plans, hopefully he can use them... eventually.
He got up from his desk, walked slowly over to some a draws and picked out a file. He opened them to see pictures of engines, whether they were working on his railway or use to be. Or they were random pictures he was given through the years of other engines in other parts of the United Kingdom. He sighed, when looking at the expressions of the engines, some seemed not to have noticed the cameras and were talking (or arguing with three pictures having engine's faces by furious, one of them was Henry who seemed to dislike something back in the second world war), or they were looking confident and determined, trying to impress the people who saw them at work. Some faces looked shocked, Gordon's faces in some of the pictures made the Fat Controller laugh, the big engine could never get use to them! But most had the engines look bright and cheerful, smiling towards the camera. The Fat Controller could help but look at every single picture to look at every detail. He eventually found himself back at his desk, looking at the pictures like a child examining the pictures of a story.
He then turned the final file to see the last picture. The Fat Controller's heart then dropped, his face saddened and began to feel depressed, as he saw a picture, of two, Great Western engines sitting next to each other, in a scrap siding. One of the engines was looking down, it had feminine features, the Fat Controller presumed it be a GWR mogul, and the engine looked like she was on the verge of tears. The other was a GWR Hall class, it had a dark, brushy beard and unlike the mogul, was staring dead at the camera, looking at it furiously. His brow furrow of anger and his mouth open, seeming to be in the middle of a screaming at the cameraman.
The Fat Controller had seen this picture before, he was given it just over a decade now by a friend, he hated it and had decided to try and take full action against the modernisation plan back in the 60s. Unfortunately, he had failed his ambitions, but luckily, he and a few others managed to make another plan, which managed to save a lot of steam engines.
He had saved many engines over the recent decades, but the Fat Controller felt like he hadn't done enough. He wanted to do more, but how could he? His son, Stephen, had kept persuading his old man to buy steam locomotives, but the railway board didn't like this one bit. They agreed on keeping the steam engines, but weren't too happy on steam engines and the out-of-date, first generation diesels like Bear and Salty that were being brought in instead of the modern, up-to-date diesels.
But still, the railway needed to be kept to efficiency, and the Fat Controller must oblige to them, otherwise he could risk having their relationships be... bumpy. He heard a knock on his office door, he quickly shut the file up. "Come in!" he called, the stationmaster opened the door, allowing another man in a dark suit to come storming in. The Fat Controller kept a straight face, but he still found it hard to not groan when seeing this man come into his office with an annoyed look, spread across his worn skin.
"Morning Mr Holbrook," the Fat Controller greeted, "care to take a seat."
Mr Holbrook shook his head, making the few grey hairs on his nearly bold hair fly around. "I do not want to stay too long," he said, "but as you may know, I am hearing to talk about the new engine that should replace the old one on the Norramby branch line."
"I was was suspecting you would say that," said the Fat Controller, trying not to roll his eyes, "well I'm happy to inform you, that I'm going to look into diesel engines that are either new to other regions or just diesel engine almost under five years of service."
Mr Holbrook blinked. "Excuse me?" he said.
There was a moments silence, the Fat Controller raised an eyebrow. "Would you like me to repeat it to you?" he asked, he was struggling to cope, it might not come to a surprise to you now, but the Fat Controller never liked Mr Holbrook, mainly because of the man had said that he was in support of the Fat Controller's campaign to help steam engines, but had actually been spotted to have given a small investment on the dieselisation, which didn't go well with many others. The Fat Controller kept him on, he was very good at financing on the railway, but still, he couldn't help but despise the man.
Mr Holbrook responded to the Fat Controller's question with a shake of his head. "No thank you," he said, "I think I get what you're saying, about time you think?"
One of Mr Holbrook's eye twitched for a moment, then nodded slowly. "Indeed," he said, "you must be fixing your head then."
The Fat Controller didn't say anything, only stared at the middle-aged man, a little coldly. "By the way," said Mr Holbrook, "where is your son, Stephen? I didn't see him at the board meeting this morning."
The Fat Controller sighed. "He went to Vicarstown to check on something some of his friends who are making this bizarre plan," he replied, "says it would be the future of Sodor."
"Your son is quite imaginative."
"Guess I've got something in common with him then."
Mr Holbrook nodded his head and walked out of the office. The Fat Controller only shook his head, as he got back up to tuck the file back into it's former place.
*
Stephen was walking quietly back to the train station, he hadn't use his car since he felt like going by train today, he had spent most of the day at Vicarstown talking to his friends about plans being made and now the sun was setting and he had to get home to his wife and children. He came round a corner to then see a phonebooth, he paused for a second, Stephen nodded and walked to the phonebooth, standing lonesome next to the station. Got in, and put money into the machine. Stephen put the digits in and then the phone pressed to his ear began to ring.
A few seconds later, the ringing stopped and was replaced by his recognisable, father's voice. "Hullo?"
"Ahh, father, it's me, Stephen," came the assured response, "I'm calling from Vicarstown."
"I see..." said the Fat Controller, "how did your little meeting go?"
"Very good actually," replied Stephen politely, "the guys and I believe we can show the proposals to the council after Christmas."
"Best to do it by February," the Fat Controller suggested, wisely, "it's a little chaotic with businesses coming back up in January."
"Of course!" smiled Stephen, "so, made a decision on who's to run the goods on the Norramby branch line?"
"Indeed I have," replied the Fat Controller, his words more stern, "and you might not like it."
Stephen's brow furrowed. "Go on."
"I've made a survey on things, and I believe it's best for me to buy a diesel from another region."
Stephen paused for a second. "One of the new diesels I presume," he said.
"...Indeed."
"Right, you do know that older engines are at risk?"
The Fat Controller sighed from the other line. "You must understand Stephen that I must keep goods tides with all members of the railway board," he explained calmly, "and who knows! A new diesel might go out of service and they would've been saved!"
"But the new diesels haven't just yet," Stephen muttered, "alright, I'll see you later, bye."
Before the Fat Controller could say anything, his son placed the phone back onto it's stand, cutting the other side. But Stephen didn't leave the phonebooth, he stood and thought. The young man then made a decision. He picked up the phone again and start to press digits into the stand.
*
Alice stood at the station, she was waiting for the DMU, who was coming from Ballohoo so she could go and get her next guaranteed-connection at Kellsthorpe Road. The Atlantic engine then noticed a familiar, young man with red hair standing on the platform on the other side of the station, seeming to wait for the DMU's train.
"Is that... Mr Stephen Hatt?" asked Alice to her driver. Her driver peaked his head out of his cab to examine the station. When he noticed the familiar man, her driver nodded.
"I do believe it is," he replied, "don't know why he's at the branch line platform though! Us staff weren't told he was leaving to the mainland."
"Excuse me! Mr Hatt!" called Alice, that got Stephen's attention, he spun around from reading a small notebook he was holding and looked to see the Atlantic engine sizzling nicely at the station.
"Ahhh, Alice!" he called back, "didn't see you come in!"
"I didn't see you until just now," Alice smiled, "may I ask, but why are you on the branch line platform?"
Stephen blinked. "I'll be going to the mainland for a while," he said, "I'm going to find something."
"Like what?"
"...I do not know," replied Stephen, "I'm hoping to find this... special once I get to London to check the archives of British Railways."
Alice paused for a second, this must be very important, if it weren't for the archives, she would not of been found and be left in a warehouse to gather dust, but the Hatt family found her. "Is it... an engine you are looking for?" she quizzed.
Stephen smirked, then only shrugged. The Atlantic engine didn't dare ask Stephen anymore, as she eventually heard a toot of a horn, and the DMU came from the distance, running over the points and into the platform.
"What happened?" she asked the DMU.
"Why do you care?" muttered the DMU, quite grumpily.
Alice scowled. "I care for my passengers and the reputation of this region," she responded, quite proudly.
"I was being sarcastic," the DMU sneered.
Stephen raised a brow. "Please D54290, keep your manners to yourself, we don't want to have to report you to the midland region like last time."
The DMU's eyes widen, then blushed, wisely subsiding. Stephen, turned back to Alice. "When my dad notices I'm gone, please tell him I'm in London, figuring something out," he said warmly.
"Oh! Erm... I think I can do that sir," replied Alice.
"That's a good engine," Stephen smiled, "I'll see you later then!" He then stepped into the DMU's carriages, and the two trains set off. One going to Tidmouth, one to Barrow, beyond Sodor. Alice couldn't help but feel like Stephen was up to something, she sighed, the Atlantic engine had not known Stephen as long as the others, she'll might just ask them once she returned to the sheds.
*
Stephen sat at the desk in his hotel room. He inspected the pieces of paper on the desk, reading them through carefully, then putting notes down about each and every fact. He was indeed, looking for another engine, he had gotten to London at midnight, took the nights rest, then went to the archives of BR that afternoon. Now, he was looking into engines who were still in the scrapyards, either steam, or diesel.
He was busy, taking notes down at one of the engines at Barry scrapyard. When he heard the telephone rang on his bedside table. He got up from his chair and picked the black device up. "Hello?" he answered.
"Stephen Hatt! What is the meaning of this!!"
The young man winced at the sound of his father's angered voice. "I know father," Stephen replied.
"I'm surprised that you decided to not only leave your job's position without telling either the board or I, but your wife too, who was in shear terror of what had happened to you!"
"I know, I know," replied Stephen, "I contacted her as soon as this morning, I didn't have enough time until the last train to call her, and besides... I didn't want to spend more money than I had that night."
"Alice told me this morning," the Fat Controller said, "that you were going to London. She couldn't find a reason, so I've decided to speak to your on the phone about this."
Stephen nodded, as he sat on the side of his bed. "I understand your frustration," he replied, "but... I'm looking for something."
"An engine I presume?"
Stephen tensed and didn't respond, that made the Fat Controller sighed heavily. "I know you love steam engines, care for them! Even the diesels you love to see still running. But you must understand, that we can't save every engine."
Stephen looked down at his knees, he thought for a long, silent moment. The sounds of London could be heard, but Stephen just ignored them and only focused on his father's words. "Stop this nonsense and just come back to Sodor," the Fat Controller added.
Stephen's brow furrow, then made a decision. "We can't save every engine," he admitted, "but we can certainly try."
He plonked the phone back onto it's stand without another coming from each line and walked back to the desk. Stephen looked down at the papers, lights giving them a yellow glow and he looked at his notes too. He sat down and went through them again, he then looked at the sheet of paper.
"A BR Standard Class 4 2-6-4T locomotive," he said quietly, "at Crewe scrapyards, might seem interesting."
He picked up a few notes and went back to the phone to make the arrangements.
*
Stephen blinked. "Are you saying that... that the engine I specifically came here to see, isn't here?" he stated.
A short, plumbed man, with greying black and old, worn clothes looked blankly at Stephen. "Sadly not," he replied simply, "I think Jerry might've got confused there as usual, can't tell what which class an A4 is called between a Black Five! Then again, we are scrap merchants, not rail enthusiasts."
Stephen shook his head, pinching the brim of his nose with two of his fingers. He then grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket. "It says here," he said, "that you had a few of these engines here after their withdrawal."
The plumb man looked carefully at the piece of paper, then chuckled lightly. "Ahh yes, I remember those engines!" he said, "last one got scrapped two weeks ago I'm afraid! Poor lad, seemed like a nice fella."
Stephen stared hard at the man, who looked back at the red-haired man with a raised brow. "What's wrong?" he asked.
"You talk like spycopath," Stephen hissed darkly.
The man groaned. "I see you're one of those fellas who are engine conspiracists," he said, "seeing engines as equals and love them too much to see them go. Then again, it'll not be dumb for me to think that in the first place if you're here anyways."
Stephen's brow furrowed, very cross. "Steam engines have emotions," he said.
"Overexaggerated emotions," replied the plumb man, "they're just trains, built to pull whatever is needed, and once we've done with them, they'll have a new purpose, giving their metals to us!"
Stephen didn't want to hear the stupid man's talk about engines. "Do you have any other engines here?" he asked.
The plumb man grinned. "What kind?" he asked.
"I'll see what 'kind' when I see every engine here," Stephen responded sharply.
The plumb man nodded. "Follow me then," he said, "I'm guessing you just want engines that are... still attached?"
"Yes... yes I do."
The two men walked around the yards of Crewe, looking at engines who were ready to be scrapped on the spot. Some were sleeping, but others stared at Stephen with wide eyes, they looked in fear as the two men walked around the yards. Stephen looked at the plumb man. "Aren't they suppose to have the Haywield Drug?" he asked.
The plumb man shrugged. "The Railway Board has offered them recently," he stated, "and since they're so rare and expensive, we usually just have to do it the old fashion way of scrapping them."
Stephen's fit clenched, his teeth gritted together as he followed the plumb man. This man had no sympathy to these engines? Why? Why does he not care? Doesn't these engines look sentient to him, or just faceless machines with some kind of black slab replacing the face.
They wondered a little more, looking at engines all around the place. But Stephen couldn't find a good enough engine that could work on the Norramby branch line. "Is there anymore engines?" he asked finally.
The plumb man paused, he looked back at the red-haired man. Then shook his head. "Naaaah," he said, "I believe they're the last ones... any suited ya?"
"Unfortunately no," Stephen replied, "shame."
"Yes it is," the plumb man said, "was hoping to get a quick buck off ya, but ahh well."
He was just about to set off again, when Stephen turned to look another direction to inspect one of the far corners of the yards. And then, he saw him.
An engine, in a lonesome siding, not like the others engines who were crowded together, just him, frames of an 0-4-0 tank engine -- looked to be a Kitson Pug to Stephen -- and rusty, broken trucks gathered behind him to fill the remainder of the siding. The engine's eyes blinked open, and then looked over to see the skinny, red-haired man looking on at him. And what surprised Stephen most of all, was that unlike any of the other engines who were emotionless or scared. The engine smiled. It was a small, shy smile, but it was enough to make Stephen's jaw drop a little.
Suddenly, the plumb man came jogging back up to Stephen, he looked up at him, then at the engine. He tensed up, as Stephen looked down with a fierce look. "I thought you said we saw all of the engines," he said darkly.
"Well... erm... um..." said the man, cheeks going bright red and his stature seemed to sink as he felt Stephen's power and position destroy what he had in the yards.
Stephen huffed and began to walk up to the engine, the engine's smile faltered a little, but kept it on as the two walked up to him. Stephen furthered examined the rusty old engine, it seemed to be an London, Midland and Scottish Railway Ivatt class, the tank engine version of that with BR black that could be barely seen with the rust covering him.
"My, my," Stephen whispered, he then turned and walked up to see the engine properly. "Hello there," he said kindly, "my name is Stephen Topham Hatt, what is yours?"
The plumb man seemed to immediately tense up and start breathing heavily after that, now realising the true identity of the visiting person -- not that Stephen cared --, but the engine didn't falter at that, either not caring or not knowing who Stephen actually was! But did seem to struggle with responding. He stuttered, and barely made his voice be heard when the plumb man regained himself and stormed back up to Stephen, seeing that he regain himself from the surprising revelations and turn arounds.
"This engine doesn't have a name!" he fumed, "he's an engine, with just a number! That is all!"
Stephen scowled angrily at the plumb man. "And you're just a foolish man, who cannot understand steam engines," he retorted, "I'll ask you this again, why did you skip this engine?"
The plumb man blinked, surprised by the taller gentleman's sudden words. He then scowled and glanced at the engine. "When all the Haywield drug got out of him, this engine began to become it's original self again, then he began to to talk to my employees," he said, "unfortunately, this made the employees grow attached to the engines and began to stop scrapping, some were even weak enough to start drinking over their so-called regret on scrapping some of them! Many left to find other work, lost some good men... and friends..."
Stephen shook his head. "You must understand that your sympathetic story isn't as tragic as the engines here who were betrayed by their creators and send to their deaths!" he said, "you'll get no sympathy from me."
The plumb man scowled, his face went purple and growled viciously like an angry dog. "What do you want?" he asked.
Stephen looked at the engine and smiled back at him. "Leave me with this engine," he replied, "I want to talk to it personally."
"I cannot allow that."
"Oh? So I become so called weak like your ex-employees?" Stephen replied, "I will not allow you to deny me something that is just a mutual conversation. Leave me here with him, I'll go and find you once I'm done."
The plumb man stared, looked at the engine, then back at Stephen. His stubby legs then began to move as he grumbled back to his office.
The engine watched him go smaller and smaller and then look back at the red-haired man that mysteriously stood up to him. Stephen sighed. "I'm so sorry you've had to put up with horrid man for so many years," he said sadly, as he spun around to look back up to the engine, "now that we have no... distractions, as I asked before, what's your name?"
The engine grinned, he seemed more comfortable with Stephen alone and not with the plumb man lurking near him. He opened his mouth, about to speak then, stopped and then sighed.
"...I-I...I..." he stammered, "I don't think... m-my name means anything to me anymore..."
"Rubbish," Stephen scoffed, "every engine deserves a name if they truly want one."
"It's not that s-sir," replied the engine, "I do want a name, but the one I h-had just... just isn't..."
Stephen sighed. "I don't understand your reasons, but if you want to keep it secret, that is fine," he said, "and if you still want a name, we can just rename you!"
The engine looked down at Stephen, seeming to be rather perplexed. "Re--renamed?" he repeated.
"Indeed," Stephen said, a little enthusiastically, "if you are alright with that of course."
"Well... I... yes sir, I'm completely fine with that," the engine smiled back.
It took them a while, but Stephen and the engine soon came across a name which seem to fit just fine. Stephen felt honoured to name the engine Arthur.
Arthur with much persuading and comforting from Stephen, eventually start telling the young man all about his backstory and where he use to work. Explain all his time in the yards here and even asked Stephen some questions with much reassurance that it was okay.
But one question flew into Arthur's funnel which he couldn't stop wondering about until he flung the words out of his mouth. "Why are you here sir?"
Stephen paused. "I'm here to find an engine," he replied.
Arthur's eyes widen. "Are you looking for an engine to preserve sir?" he asked.
"Well... it's sort of yes, but more likely no," replied Stephen. Arthur raised an eyebrow in confusion.
"Have you ever heard of the Island of Sodor?" asked Stephen, a little quieter.
Arthur thought for a moment. "It may have been mentioned to me a couple of times," he replied, "but it doesn't seem to ring a bell about a heritage railway!"
"I don't believe it does," Stephen chuckled, "because there isn't any heritage railway for standard gauge steam locomotives."
Arthur blinked, more confused than before, but he let Stephen carry on. "There is a railway there, which travels across the island, it takes you to the mountains, to the mines and quarries, to the seaside and harbours and to the residential areas where people can watch the trains go by. Goods and passengers are all there, ready to be in line for an engine to take them to a new place and the ones who do are the power-breathing, beastly steam locomotives and growling, wise diesels who make railways really look like they're alive. They're the engines of the North Western."
Arthur was stunned by the speech, he hadn't expected that. "I've heard of that railway," he gulped, "so many engines have said to me over the years that they want to go there, be free from BR's terror, I don't think many of them did..."
"Indeed," sighed Stephen, "but... you can be one of them."
Arthur looked at Stephen's eyes, wide in surprise. "What do you mean sir?"
"My father, who runs the region is currently looking for an engine to look after goods traffic on one of his branch lines," Stephen explained, "he feels pressured by the railway board of the region and wants to buy a new diesel, fresh from the works, so he can get on their good side."
"B-But why me?" asked Arthur in astonishment.
Stephen, smiled and patted the big tank engine's rusty front. "Because you felt... different when I saw you," he said, "and I believe you can be great."
Arthur grinned once more, he felt like crying, but not of sadness, but of joy.
*
Stephen demanded for the papers of Arthur, which the plumb man begrudgingly accepted. The red-haired man examined the papers carefully, trying not to miss any signs of what Arthur had done and if he was telling the truth. Thankfully, he was, Arthur had been quite truthful and Stephen felt that he could be a perfect addition to the fleet. Then he looked at the accidents and behaviour statures, he had a few delays noted on him, but seemed to not be his fault. Then Stephen blinked, he looked at the words again, then again. He could hardly believe what he saw.
Stephen gave back the papers to the plumb man. "If that engine is even touched by you and your men," he said sternly, "be sure that you'll be unemployed by next week." The plumb man blinked, astounded, but said nothing as Stephen left for a phone.
*
The Fat Controller was writing in his office, he was still searching for new diesels, but was finding it difficult, he grumbled dreadfully, Stephen had put him a bit of a muddle. The remainder of the board had stated they weren't too happy about Stephen's rebellious nature in this debate on what engine should take over and he needed to make sure to get on their good side.
Then, the telephone rang, the Fat Controller groaned a little, but picked it up nonetheless. "Hullo?" he said.
"Hello father."
The Fat Controller sighed. "Still on your adventure I see," he said crossly.
"I do not know whether I should take that as an insult, or a compliment," Stephen replied, musingly.
The Fat Controller scowled at this remark, he wasn't taking kindly to Stephen's amused tone of voice. "You sound very relaxed," he noted, "found something have you?"
"Indeed I have," Stephen said, "and you won't turn down this one, I am sure of this."
The Fat Controller said nothing for a few moments, Stephen was keen to saying that, but he might as well here him out. "Go on then," he nodded -- though Stephen couldn't see the gesture.
And Stephen explained all about Arthur, his class, where he use to work, what his character seemed to be like with the conversation he had with him that morning, and how he gained a new name from him. The Fat Controller nodded along. "Is that all?" he said, once he thought his son was done.
"No," Stephen said, "this is the best part, you see, when looking at his notes, I saw that he has been given a Spotless Record."
The Fat Controller blinked, surprised by this revelation. He sat up from his chair and brow furrowed. Stephen huffed out a little chuckle. "Thought I get your interest by that," he said.
"What's the condition of Arthur?" asked the Fat Controller.
"He's very rusty with a few parts missing," replied Stephen, from inspection I did earlier, he should be in working condition by almost the middle of next year."
"If we buy him of course."
"I think we will," said Stephen, "how are you doing in buying diesels."
"I'm trying to find some, but it seems the other regions are wanting them and the workshops are busy supplying them only to them unfortunately," the Fat Controller sighed, he then paused, then looked at his notes, then thought of Arthur, then Stephen. He knew his time as controller could be ending soon, Stephen had been taking more of an active duty on the railway and was becoming grand at his job with evaluating the situation and what was the best for the railway. He had gotten Alice, who was a perfect choice for hour of need and he was a little cautious on Spamcan when he returned and almost caused a serious accident. And now, he had found an engine, a perfect one, ready to be saved from the cutter's torch.
"You refuse to let Duck go back to London when he was stationed at Tidmouth temporaily for the risk of steam engines being scrapped," Stephen said, "you made both Donald and Douglas stay because you know it was right and even brought and saved engines from near scrap, whether it was diesel or steam. You've got that chance to do it again."
The silence continued again after Stephen had stopped, the young man thought that it would be impossible to get his father's side now. But his father did respond, quite enthusiastic. "Make sure Arthur doesn't get damaged," he said firmly, "and calculate an agreement in buying him, I'll have to make an urgent meeting about the changes of the plan to the our board, not all will be pleased unfortunately."
"Well... I hope Holbrook gets angry about it," Stephen chuckled, "I'll go make the arrangements."
The phone clicked and the connection was disconnected, the Fat Controller plonked the phone down. His son had won this fight so it would seem, but it was for a good intention at least. That, the Fat Controller could accept.
*
It took a while, but after much persistence from each Hatt, the Fat Controller managed to get most -- Mr Holbrook was still in decline in the change of the type of locomotive -- and a steam engine was agreed to run the goods traffic. And Stephen managed to get the plumb man to make their new engine an affordable price. When Arthur heard he was to be rescued, he was frilled! He had not been so happy in years. Whilst the plumb man didn't like that Arthur wasn't going to be scrapped, he was pleased to see the engine would not be making a hassle. But every wise being knows all too well that if somethings goes, more can come back.
"You'll be moved to a loading stage, where you'll be transported by road to our works at Crovan's Gate tomorrow morning," Stephen explained to Arthur, when the evening began to set, "there, you'll be restored as quickly as possible. You'll be the works first time restoring a fully standard gauge locomotive, but do not fret, they are the best we have to offer within this country."
Arthur, who was beginning to tear up, just smiled gratefully at the red-haired man he become so fond of. "Thank you sir," he whispered.
The plumb man, who was standing nearby, grumbled. "We don't have all day." He and Stephen walked off, as scrappers came to finally finish off the frames of the Kitson pug, so to let a diesel shunter come and take Arthur."
Once that was sorted, a diesel shunter did come and buffer up gently to Arthur, some parts were removed by Stephen's request like the remainders of his coupling rods and a few temporary things like coupling hooks so to move him into place. The diesel shunter was coupled and it began to pull Arthur, it was a struggle at first, the big tank engine hadn't moved in ages and his joints were quite stiff. But eventually, the old, rusty parts finally gave way to let Arthur move smoothly.
Most of his moving parts ached, but Arthur didn't care. He was just looking forward to becoming a North Western engine and showing he can be a useful engine once more.
