James hadn't really expected to get away with his outrageous behaviour. As he fled from Knapford, heading wherever the signalmen decided in their wisdom to send him, he had more than enough time to absorb exactly what he had done and he almost winced with embarrassment. How ridiculous the others must think him! If he hadn't been put on the spot he might have been able to come up with something more convincing but under pressure he had simply thrown himself at the first idea which popped into his smokebox without considering the consequences.
The Fat Controller was going to be furious. Maybe not 'crashed through the back of Tidmouth Sheds' furious, but definitely higher up the scale than 'Phantom Express'. Possibly at the 'fell off a bridge and landed on Philip' level of anger. He would probably be confined to the shed until Christmas.
His crew were also unimpressed, judging from the thumping and grumbling within his cab. James tried to listen in to the conversation in the hope of preparing himself for the forthcoming storm, but the brief snippets he caught weren't particularly enlightening.
When the discussion did become audible, it seemed to have taken an unexpected turn. "If I'm pulled up for it, I'm going straight to my union," his driver was telling the fireman forcefully. "I've had enough of this kind of nonsense."
"Am I in trouble?" James asked, absolutely certain that he already knew the answer and wanting to get the inevitable scolding out of the way. Railway workers seemed to hold the union in high regard and the thought of being the focus of their attention was rather alarming, even to an engine as attention-seeking as James.
His driver snorted. "Your methods are weird, to say the least, but on this occasion we're in agreement, old boy. We should never have been asked to take those trucks."
"What?" It was virtually unheard of for an engine to flat out refuse to carry out a job assigned to them and James had been anticipating far harsher treatment than this.
"Perishable goods in uncovered trucks? Those fish would have been in a pretty disgusting state by the time we got them to the Docks. They should have been loaded into proper fish wagons and if none were available, they should have gone by road. Even better, the fishing boats should just land them at Brendam rather than have their catch dragged halfway across the island. That's simply common sense!"
"You're doing yourself out of a job there," the fireman pointed out.
"Look, I enjoy being in paid employment as much as the next man, but when it comes down to it, there are times when the railway is not the best option. Who'd be the one getting it in the neck from the men at the Docks when we rolled in with two trucks full of filthy, stinking sardines, eh? It wouldn't be the Fat Controller, would it? It wouldn't even be James. No, it'd be muggins here."
"So what are we going to do now?" asked James cautiously. He wasn't entirely sure that he was out of the woods yet.
"We're going to be really useful," the driver told him grimly. "We'll find a proper job and we'll carry it out to the letter. So, James, you need to be on your absolute best behaviour from now on. It is that clear?"
James agreed willingly. He needed to get back into the Fat Controller's good books as soon as possible but - and this was perhaps of greater importance - he needed to continue with his original plan. He'd been careless at Knapford and that meant it was imperative that he went back to demonstrating how absolutely normal and unperturbed he was to anyone who might think otherwise.
It didn't come as much of a surprise when the points sent him off in the direction of Edward's branch line. It was, he supposed, quite reasonable to assume that at least one of the Caledonian twins would be scheduled to collect a goods train from the Docks at some point and the signalmen had probably concluded that James was the substitute engine even if he wasn't following the timetable.
Wary after his visit to Brendam earlier in the day, James puffed onto the dockside at a sensible pace with an expression of cheerful inquisitiveness on his face: the very model of a hard-working, responsible engine, or so he hoped. If he was lucky Porter would be busy-
"Hello James, what are you doing here?" Porter wasn't busy and as he rolled forward to greet the new arrival, James silently berated himself for being daft enough to hope that there had been any chance of luck favouring him.
"Haven't you heard? The Scottish Twins are stuck on the Mainland so all of the timetables have been rearranged," he said, keeping his tone light. "Got a train for me?"
"I don't suppose you've brought some sardines with you?" Porter asked, looking past him.
"Do I look – or, more to the point, smell – as though I have sardines with me?" James returned.
Porter grinned, completely unfazed. "Oh well, I'm sure they'll turn up eventually. We don't have a train ready for you right away, James, but I'm sure there will be something for you to take. The Dock Manager will just need to check the schedule."
James smiled briefly in acknowledgement, carefully managing to avoid looking at the Dock Manager as he approached Porter's driver, pointing something out on a clipboard. The discussion between the two men took some time, and the silence between the engines gradually became more and more uncomfortable. Salty was busy shunting trucks for Sidney and offered little in the way of a distraction. James directed his gaze out to sea and tried desperately to think of innocuous ways in which to start a perfectly normal chat with Porter. His mind seemed to have gone completely blank.
After a few awkward minutes, Porter decided to start the conversation himself. "Lovely weather again," he remarked.
James hummed in agreement. Yes, the weather was a good, safe subject. "It's been very... sunny."
"Remarkably calm since that bad storm a few weeks back," Porter added. "Hardly any disruption to shipping at all, which is good news round here. Look James, is there something wrong?"
James frowned at the abrupt end to the small talk. "Wrong? Why would there be anything wrong? I'm just talking about the weather!"
"Every time I've seen you recently, you seem to have been a bit on edge," said Porter amiably. "I just wondered if something had happened. We don't always get to hear the latest news from Tidmouth now that Edward's moved to Wellsworth."
"Oh well, I hate to be the bearer of bad news but absolutely nothing of interest has happened to me so you'll have to make do with gossip from elsewhere," James snapped; this exchange was proving to be every bit as uncomfortable as he had anticipated. "And even if something had happened, since when has that been any of your business? Stop poking your funnel into things that don't concern you and go and fetch my trucks!"
Porter was far too easy-going to take offence at this. "All right, suit yourself," he said cheerfully, backing away as a conciliatory gesture. "I was only asking."
When he returned with James's train, the red engine had to admit that luck did appear to have smiled on him at last. Three trucks filled with flowers, exactly the kind of rare goods train which would suit such a splendid engine. James eyed Porter carefully, wondering if this was some sort of apology. If so, the dockside engine was giving nothing away.
Satisfied that his appearance was now thoroughly in keeping with the impression he intended to project, James set off for Knapford in rather better spirits than he might have anticipated. His good mood lasted until he reached the scrap yard where he was brought to a halt by a guard waving a red flag.
"What's up?" his driver asked, leaning from the cab.
"Nia's broken down up ahead. You can still get by as long as you take a slight detour through the scrap yard."
"Is Nia all right?" James asked anxiously, as his fireman climbed down to change the points. He could see the brake van further along the line but little beyond that.
"It's a bit of a rum do, to be honest," the guard said. "I'm really not sure what's going on and I don't think the Africans do either."
Worried by this summary, James advanced slowly along the scrap yard track. The rails closest to the branch line were blocked by loaded trucks ready to be transported to the smelter's yard and James wasn't clearly able to see what was going on until he was almost back on the line again. Nia's train seemed to be intact, and her trucks were behaving suspiciously well. Her fireman was still in her cab, peering and tapping at gauges in a puzzled manner. Her driver was standing on the tracks, one hand resting on Nia's buffer, staring up into the engine's face and murmuring worriedly. Nia's eyes were half closed and the blank expression on her face frightened James. He had never seen a breakdown like this before. "What happened?" he asked, unable to keep the concern from his voice.
To his right, he heard a chuckle from Reg who was inspecting his trucks. "Flowers, James? Aw, you shouldn't have!"
"Shut up, Reg," snapped James. "Can't you see that we've got a problem here?"
The crane pulled a face and turned back to his work and James realised that he too probably hadn't been able to see Nia properly. No help at all, he thought, although in all fairness he couldn't think of a way in which Reg might be able to help.
The same could be applied to himself. "Should I go and fetch Rocky?" he offered, at a loss for any other sensible suggestions.
Before any of the people present could answer, a familiar whistle sounded in the direction of the line from Wellsworth. James gave a sigh of relief. Edward would know what to do.
Edward was running 'light engine' and greeted the assembly cheerfully before spotting Nia and her driver and easing to a stop. "Oh. What has happened here?"
"I don't know, I just found her like this!" Now that help had arrived and James could pass on the responsibility of dealing with the problem to an engine far better qualified to manage it, he allowed himself to give in slightly to panic.
"She just... stopped," Nia's driver told them. "We cannot see a reason for it."
"There is plenty of steam," the fireman chipped in. "No signs of damage."
"I could go and get Rocky," James repeated, looking to Edward for approval.
The old engine was frowning thoughtfully at Nia. "You would need to be quick. There are several services due to come this way throughout the afternoon."
"She won't want anyone to see her like this," James told him. Nia would do anything to avoid being pitied by the others and she would be mortified at the thought of anyone witnessing her in this incapacitated, unconscious state.
"You are right," Rehema Mwangi turned towards him. "We should not leave her here in plain sight. I suggest that we move Nia onto the scrap yard track behind those trucks to clear the line. We can decide on our next steps after that."
Edward and James exchanged a wary look, while James's driver leaned forward. "Excuse me, Miss Mwangi, but all the same, don't you think it would be a good idea to let the Steamworks know what has happened?"
"We can telephone from the scrap yard," replied Nia's driver, folding her arms. "If necessary, we can still send for Rocky. I know my engine better than anyone else on this island and this seems like the best solution to me, so I would appreciate your assistance. Now, Edward, are you strong enough to move Nia and her train?"
"I could move them, ma'am, if you're sure." Despite the gravity of the situation, James couldn't help but smirk at the slightly offended tone in the older engine's voice which probably went unnoticed by most of the humans. "James, why don't you go ahead and see if you can hold the others up? That would give me more time to get Nia off the line. The engineering work on the Fenland bridge might work to your advantage, one track is still closed."
James gawped at him. "Wait a minute – you're actually telling me to go and cause a delay? On your branch line?"
"I rather think some form of delay is unavoidable at this stage," Edward said regretfully. "If you leave to fetch Rocky it will cause your train to be behind schedule, and the timetables are already snarled up in the absence of Donald and Douglas. Given what you've said, the best we can hope to achieve is to preserve some of Nia's dignity. It would help if you could buy me some time."
"Well, can't you go and delay the others? I can move Nia, I'm stronger than you."
"You have your trucks," Edward pointed out, "besides which it would take too long for you to get turned around."
"But I'm already in trouble with the Fat Controller!" protested James.
Edward gave him one of those wide-eyed, guileless looks which he had probably spent decades perfecting. "Wouldn't you want someone to do the same if you were in Nia's position?" he asked gently.
James gritted his teeth and glared at the older engine. "You know, Edward, you can be remarkably manipulative when it suits you."
Edward looked surprised. "Have I misjudged the situation? I thought you and Nia were close."
Between them, Nia roused sufficiently to mumble something under her breath. It was completely unintelligible to James and he hoped it was Swahili rather than an indication that Nia was unable to form coherent words. "What did she say?" he asked Nia's driver anxiously.
Some time later, when the hurt had begun to fade and fractured relationships were in the process of being repaired, James would acknowledge that Rehema Mwangi's primary concern had been for her own engine. Perhaps under different circumstances she would have realised that the direct translation of Nia's mumblings might have been better kept private, but at that moment, James's feelings and those of any other engine ultimately didn't matter to her. "'I keep his secrets'", she quoted absently, her eyes fixed on Nia's face in case the tank engine spoke again.
James blinked in shock, momentarily unable to process the meaning.
He'd thought he could trust her. She had promised and he had believed her.
The extent to which he had actually believed her hadn't been obvious to him until this point but the betrayal hurt, it physically hurt deep within his smokebox. And then a horrible idea flickered through the gloom: that was a threat. Nia's meaning was clear and she intended to expose him if he didn't do as Edward had suggested. Glancing towards the blue engine, he saw the curiosity in his expression and realised that damage had already been inflicted. Even if Nia said nothing more, Edward knew that a secret of some sort existed, and now James would have to work twice as hard to prevent the truth being revealed. The knowledge was like a weight upon him and he could almost feel his frame aching with the burden.
"Fine," he said curtly. "I'll go." His driver threw open the regulator and James fled.
As the bridge came into view, he deliberately averted his eyes. Whatever happened now the consequences weren't going to be good, but he knew beyond any doubt that being seen to ignore a warning flag would have much more severe results than failing to notice it. "I'm so splendid," he told himself, trying to steady his nerves. By the time he reached the signalman, he was wearing his most self assured expression once more. Commotion broke out inside his cab as his crew reacted with alarm to his failure to stop.
"James! Look out!" yelled his driver. "Philip!"
James gasped incredulously as he looked ahead and saw the approaching engine, looking horrified and frantically sounding his horn in warning. Of course it would be Philip who reached the bridge first, and of course he would have those bloody sardines with him. Honestly, he could be forgiven for thinking the boxcab was following him around the island. Tempting though it was to prove his superiority by continuing to steam ahead, James slammed his brakes on. He was supposed to be causing a delay after all, not an accident.
Their buffers collided, fortunately at a low enough speed to avoid any possibility of injury, and Philip looked up at him cautiously.
There was no going back now. If he didn't buy Edward enough time, the fears he had confided to Nia would become common knowledge and James couldn't bring himself to think of what might happen next. Philip was already annoyed with him. He was going to have to drag this encounter out for as long as he could and the only way to do that was to provoke the small engine further. "Philip!" he snapped. "Get out of my way!"
It worked surprisingly well. Philip's face took on a determined expression and James had a sense that he had finally reached his limit. "No," he said decisively. "You didn't stop at the signalman's flag. You made a mistake."
"Oh, did I?" He had probably overdone it on the sarcasm.
Philip was not prepared to back down. "Yes you did. So you need to reverse and you need to say sorry. You've been unfair and, quite frankly, not very nice."
James gasped dramatically, backing away slightly. "What do you mean?"
"We-ell, you didn't say sorry when you knocked the crates into me at the docks, you didn't say sorry when you splattered us both with oil, you didn't say sorry when you jumped ahead of me at the washdown. And now, you're blocking the bridge!"
James hadn't been giving Philip his full attention. Thomas had appeared with his coaches behind the diesel's train, followed in short order by Paxton. The situation was escalating far more quickly than he had expected. When Rebecca's whistle sounded from somewhere behind Paxton's trucks, James discovered that it was possible for his spirits to sink further, something he would have considered unlikely a few minutes earlier. He liked the new engine and was rather uncomfortable at the thought of tarnishing her opinion of him.
What choice did he have? Let Rebecca think he was unreasonable and selfish or have everyone learn of his cowardice?
Henry would find out, and he couldn't let that happen.
"Are you OK, Paxton?" Rebecca's voice drifted towards them. "Do you need a little push?"
"It's not me, it's Thomas," Paxton answered, puzzlement in his voice.
"It's not me," protested Thomas. "It's Philip."
"It's not me. It's James!" shrieked Philip indignantly. "So you need to say sorry! Please," he added, flinching.
James stared at him, momentarily taken aback at this reaction. Pushing the thought aside until a more appropriate time, he returned to the plan. "I don't make mistakes," he declared, putting on his most superior air. "You're probably the one who made a mistake. Look at all the engines you're holding up."
"Oh dear!" remarked Paxton, an element of alarm creeping into his tone "There are a lot of engines on the bridge. And they're still repairing it. I hope it doesn't... collapse!"
Annie and Clarabel gasped in horror.
"Oh, I don't think it's going to-" Rebecca began, but it was too late for any efforts at reassurance. The coaches had seized on Paxton's words and begun to panic.
"Did you hear that?" Annie insisted. "We need to move!"
"Otherwise the bridge will collapse!" shrilled Clarabel.
James huffed at this, but a worried look crossed Philip's face before being replaced by one of fierce determination. "Don't worry, I won't let that happen!" he declared. "It's time to move on!"
"At last," remarked James, with an exaggerated sigh of relief.
"And if James isn't going to reverse, then we will," Philip went on, in what he probably thought was a heroic fashion. "Excuse me, Thomas!"
James couldn't see Thomas's face as Philip began to reverse but the tone of his voice made his feelings very clear. "Back up Paxton!" he called, sounding thoroughly fed up.
Paxton obviously hadn't been expecting this development and he exclaimed in surprise as Clarabel advanced towards him. "Beep beep, Rebecca," he shouted, and James watched with a small degree of satisfaction as the whole cavalcade began to gracefully move away from him. He had played his part. Edward must have Nia safely stashed away in the scrap yard by now.
But just to be on the safe side, he slowed to a crawl as he crossed the points, delaying Philip even further. "Splendid engine coming through," he announced, prompting a glare from the boxcab. As he progressed further along the line, though, doubt began to creep in. He had done as Nia had demanded and that ought to mean his secret was safe – not that he had any guarantee of that – but there would still be a price to pay.
"This is ridiculous!" Thomas complained as James passed, too annoyed to even look at him, and James realised that it was all but inevitable that the Fat Controller would hear of this. If Philip didn't run off to tell tales, Thomas would probably let slip about his actions.
"Really, James!" said Annie disapprovingly.
"You should have moved!" Clarabel called out, and James felt a stab of annoyance. What were they doing here, anyway? Edward didn't go traipsing about on Thomas's branch line with coaches in tow.
But it was when he reached Paxton that the full weight of his actions hit James. The diesel scowled at him, the expression completely unexpected on a face usually so amiable that it felt dreadfully wrong. James laughed awkwardly and fixed his eyes on the tracks below his buffers. He couldn't bring himself to look at Rebecca. He didn't think he could bear it if she was angry at him.
"I hope you know what you're doing, James," his driver said sternly once the guard on Rebecca's train was out of earshot. "I don't know what it is you've told Nia, but it can't be worth all this disruption, can it?"
"I don't want to talk about it," returned James sulkily.
"Have it your own way. I can't fight your corner if I don't know what's going on, but that isn't really the issue. As things stand, old boy, I'm being civil to you. But," and there was no mistaking the fact that this was a warning, "if you go around kicking up a fuss because you're in a strop with Nia, you won't have civil questions from me to deal with, it'll be a full interrogation from the Fat Controller. Bear that in mind."
A sudden sense of injustice surged through James at being cautioned like this, compressing his distress into a hot, dense ball of rage. He wasn't the one in the wrong here. Edward and Nia's driver had come up with the stupid plan and Nia had left him no option but to carry it out. He had been put in an impossible position and there was nothing to be gained by moping about it. Oh, he would play the remorseful, chastened engine as required when the Fat Controller's inevitable scolding occurred, but it would change nothing.
His anger was justified and he was going to make just as much of a fuss as he liked.
XXX
The sensation of movement brought Nia back to herself, slowly at first, then abruptly as she became aware that she wasn't moving under her own steam. Her eyes flew open and she was surprised to see the old engine who ran the branch line, Edward, coupled face-to-face with her. "Welcome back, Nia," he said rather breathlessly, giving her a reassuring smile.
Alarmed at the possibility that he might be over-exerting himself, Nia hastened to offer assistance. "I can move, let me help you."
"No need," Edward told her. "I'm stronger than I look. And," he added, easing to a stop with a small triumphant smile, "often underestimated."
Nia looked around as Edward's fireman hopped down to uncouple him and panic struck as she realised where she was. "Why am I in the scrap yard?" she asked, her voice several pitches higher than usual.
"There's nothing to fear," her driver told her in Swahili. The sound of her home language was surprisingly comforting, allaying her fear. "You stopped on the branch line and we have moved you to clear the way for other engines."
"Stopped?" Nia asked but as she did so, it came back to her: the trucks, the feeling of being disconnected from the world around her, Shomari...
Glancing around in horror, she looked to her right where the crane – Reg, she remembered, that was his name - was studiously focussing on his work. Behind him on the conveyor belt was an old oil drum missing one end.
It looked nothing like a boiler. She really had to stop summoning up ghosts of her old friends and start paying attention to what was actually in front of her. To her relief, the rails felt reassuringly solid beneath her wheels and her vision seemed to have returned to normal.
"Are you all right?" Edward asked her.
Nia forced a rather wobbly smile onto her face by way of reply, not entirely trusting herself to speak.
Rehema and Isaac had descended from her cab and were looking at her with such worry that a sense of deep guilt rose within her. "I'm sorry," she murmured, reverting back to Swahili. "I didn't mean to cause any trouble."
More people appeared - her guard, Edward's crew, scrap yard staff – and all proceeded to discuss what should happen next. Nia was too weary and too bewildered to follow any of the conversation, but the upshot of it seemed to be that she would be left to rest in the yard under Edward's supervision while the humans retired to the yard office to make further arrangements and to drink tea. This last point seemed to be very important for some reason.
Nia looked at the blue engine in confusion. "But you will be delayed! I don't want to cause any problems for you."
Edward gave her that reassuring smile again. "That won't be an issue. We have an arrangement with the Dock Manager. On those occasions when I am scheduled to take a goods train from Brendam, I arrive as early as I can to keep an eye on Bill and Ben. It's all unofficial, of course, but it's my belief that the Fat Controller knows and doesn't see any need to intervene."
"I see." Nia hadn't encountered the China Clay twins very often but their reputation preceded them. "Thank you for helping me, Edward."
"Don't mention it. James was here too, you know. He went off to try to delay the engines coming down from Wellsworth so I could move you without an audience."
"Really?" A warm glow spread through her boiler at the thought of James showing her such kindness. "Oh, but he will get in more trouble with the Fat Controller! As will I," she added, suddenly very aware of the awful trucks behind her. "This train was supposed to go to Thomas's branch line but Percy sent me here with it by mistake."
Edward looked surprised. "That isn't like Percy. Never mind, Nia, I'm sure you will have a chance to explain everything."
"I wouldn't know what to say," Nia murmured, exhaustion overwhelming her again. "I don't know what happened. I don't want the Fat Controller to think I am unreliable."
"Oh, I'm sure he wouldn't come to that conclusion based on one incident," said Edward, full of quiet confidence.
"But if it happens again..."
"Why should it?" Edward gave her a keen look.
Nia belatedly realised that she had revealed too much to back away now and sighed heavily. She didn't want to talk about it – saying the words out loud would make the awful situation more real, somehow – but Thomas had spoken about Edward at length during their journey back from China and had portrayed him as wise and understanding, a source of good advice and sympathy. Perhaps he was the best engine to confide in, given James's absence.
How unfair it was that Thomas's mentor still played an important part on the North Western despite his advanced years, when her own – a much younger engine – had been deemed surplus to requirements.
"A very dear friend of mine from home has gone missing," she said slowly. "Our branch line closed and he was supposed to be transferred to another part of the network but it seems that he never arrived. Another engine I knew in Kenya has been scrapped. I don't know if any of my old friends are safe," her voice wavered and she stopped, trying to steady herself. "It is a lot to take in, you know?"
"I do know," Edward told her solemnly. Nia fell silent again and he gently prompted her to continue. "Tell me about your friend."
Nia closed her eyes, trying to recall every inch of Shomari's appearance. The image was already beginning to fade.
"His name is Shomari. These days he would be called a 24 class – a big tender engine, dark red like most of the EAR fleet. He is – was – something of a philosopher, always full of ideas about the world. Very quiet and serious a lot of time, never flustered by anything, but he had quite a sense of humour underneath it all. His jokes were always terrible." Nia smiled sadly at the memory.
As she opened her eyes, she saw that Edward's eyebrows were raised in surprise, and she knew exactly what he had been thinking. "You expected him to be like James, eh? That I exchanged one red tender engine for another? Are your friends so easily replaced?"
Edward had the grace to look embarrassed. "I suppose I rather asked for that. I'm sorry, Nia. Do go on, please."
Nia found that there was little more she wanted to say. "I have known him all of my life. I know it must sound silly, but I still had hope..." She looked away, worried that if she were to hold Edward's gaze for any longer it would destroy the last of her self-control. If the lid of that particular mental crate were to be dislodged completely, she doubted it would ever go back again. "Now I know I will never see him again, I do not know what to do."
"I know that nothing I can say will lessen your grief," said Edward softly, "but if talking about him gives you some comfort, I am more than willing to listen. I'm sure many of the others would make the same offer."
Bitterness swirled within Nia's boiler and for a second time she was unable to bite back a sharp retort. "On Sodor? The safe haven for steam engines? I am lucky to be here, as everyone keeps reminding me."
"No engine would expect you to forget those you left behind just because you were fortunate enough to find a place here," Edward informed her quietly. "We've all experienced loss, Nia. None of the engines I knew on my previous railway are still in service. James and Thomas are also both the last survivors of their classes. It's my belief that Gordon's relationship with Flying Scotsman is tricky because both remind one another of the siblings they have lost. And then there are those who came to Sodor but didn't stay. Some we knew were visitors, they had heritage lines or other work to go back to, but others simply came and went and never returned. Nia? What is it?"
A horrible fear had seized Nia at Edward's words and she finally met his eye with a stricken expression. "So I... I might not be staying here?" she whispered, her voice suddenly hoarse.
Edward hastened to reassure her. "I am sorry, Nia, I didn't mean to frighten you. No controller on this railway would ever send away an engine with nowhere else to go. Douglas and Oliver are testament to that. You belong to the North Western now."
Whether I'm wanted or not, Nia added silently.
Edward's gaze slid away from her towards Reg, working diligently at the furthest end of his rails in an attempt to give them some privacy. There was a wistfulness to his expression, and something clicked into place inside Nia's smokebox. "You've lost someone – quite recently, I think?"
"Not 'lost' exactly," conceded Edward reluctantly. "My situation is not equivalent to yours, Nia, in no way am I trying to diminish your feelings."
"I can be an understanding listener too, you know?" The old engine had gone out of his way to help her. Nia felt that she owed him this at the very least.
"Have any of the others mentioned a diesel named BoCo to you?" Edward observed Nia's blank reaction to this and smiled faintly. "How quickly we are forgotten! BoCo is a good friend of mine. He used to run this branch line with me. One day a few years ago a gentleman came to visit from the Mainland. He had a particular interest in diesel engines and saw BoCo as a special case – his class were prone to breaking down but the Fat Controller had invested a great deal in him and managed to resolve some of his mechanical issues. After some negotiation it was agreed that the NWR would loan BoCo to him temporarily as part of a research project. He left for the Mainland and initially our drivers exchanged letters. I heard from him regularly, but then his driver retired due to ill health. His second man wasn't much of a correspondent and when BoCo left the old LMS region the letters stopped. We don't know where he is now."
"Haven't you asked the Fat Controller?"
"Of course. He has reassured me that BoCo is being well looked after, but I believe his information is based on official reports rather than direct communication. Under the original terms of the loan BoCo should have returned to Sodor by now. It seems the arrangement has been extended indefinitely." Edward glanced back at her. "Logically I know that he is safe – he still belongs to the North Western after all – but all the same, one can't help but worry. I am obsolete technology, Nia, so much so that both the newer classes which replaced me and the diesels which replaced them have also begun to fall into obsolescence."
"Shomari once said that people are driven by a need for perfection," Nia remarked, privately amazed at how easy it was to say her friend's name. It was as though a line had been cleared in her mind. "They keep replacing us because they always feel they are capable of creating better machines: stronger, faster, more efficient. They are never content with what they have."
"There is certainly something in that idea," agreed Edward.
"He also thought our longevity scared them. Given the right circumstances we are essentially immortal, and humans cannot imagine life without the fear of it ending. That is why they find it so easy to replace us. To them it is the natural order of things, you know?"
Edward's mouth dropped open in astonishment. "Your Shomari really does sound like quite a thinker," he murmured.
"He helped me to see the world differently. I miss that." Another wave of grief broke over her, and as it subsided, Nia realised that she would have to take prompt action if she did not want this to become a regular occurrence. "Please do not mention this to anyone else, Edward. Only James knows about Shomari and I would like to keep it that way."
Edward was clearly puzzled by this. "Why?"
"I don't want their pity," Nia said, sounding rather more fierce than she had intended. "I want to make my own way on Sodor without engines being nice to me out of sympathy. There is no need for everyone to know my private business."
"Very well," Edward consented. "I will respect your wishes, but I would advise that you consider carefully whether you want to continue on that track in the longer term. I honestly don't believe the others would treat you differently if they knew but either way it will be difficult to maintain genuine friendships if you are holding back something so important."
This was a very good point and Nia acknowledged it, albeit reluctantly. "Thank you, Edward. Thomas spoke highly of you several times while we were travelling back to Sodor and now I understand why."
Edward smiled warmly at her. "It's the chief advantage of old age. I've been around long enough to have gone through some challenging situations and if I don't use the knowledge I've acquired to help younger engines through difficult times, then what purpose does it serve? Anyway," he added, catching sight of his crew walking towards him, "it seems arrangements have been made. I have an appointment with some trucks at the Docks. Take care of yourself, Nia."
Nia watched him depart with a sudden pang of jealousy. She had thought herself quite worldly upon arriving on the North Western Railway – after all, her adventures with Thomas aside, she came from a railway with a network big enough to cover three nations, including the two major international ports at Dar-es-Salaam and Mombasa. Sodor had, by comparison, seemed rather provincial and sheltered from the wider world and she had decided that the experiences of the Sudrian engines must be far removed from her own. But now, mulling over Edward's words, she wondered whether life on her branch line had actually isolated her more than she had realised. She was used to confiding in one engine and one engine alone, and that meant she had hardly any idea of the sort of things her new colleagues might have gone through.
The engines of the NWR were clearly far more integrated, more of a team despite their diverse backgrounds, contrasting personalities and regular squabbles. "Two engines are better than one!" she had told Thomas back in Africa. For the first time, it occurred to her that while a deep friendship with just one engine had been all that she felt she needed back in Kenya, she had never really considered the possibility of expanding her inner circle to encompass more than two. Edward had been so surprised by her desire for privacy that she was beginning to wonder whether there was something odd about it. The old engine certainly seemed to have no qualms about sharing personal information with someone he barely knew.
Perhaps by focussing on her relationship with James and politely rebuffing the advances of others, she had been putting all her passengers in one coach. Maybe it was time to accept Emily's advances and to start behaving like she really was a North Western engine.
Xxx
The conversation with Nia played on Edward's mind for the rest of the day. It troubled him that she was so determined to carry her grief alone, but also that none of the others had picked up on her distress – not even Thomas who considered himself a friend to all and had spent so much time in her company. At least she had James, even if emotional support wasn't exactly his area of expertise.
He was also distinctly uncomfortable with the thought that people might find something frightening about his continued existence, and had spent some time trying to push the thought away, with limited success.
Favourable conditions meant he made good time on his final Knapford-bound passenger service of the day and he arrived early at Wellsworth, aware that he would be held there until his scheduled departure time. Had he arrived on time, he wouldn't have encountered James at all. The red engine had stopped just before reaching the eastbound platform, a grim look on his face as he watched at the signals ahead. The cause immediately became clear as Edward spotted two trucks full of waste behind him and he pulled a sympathetic face.
"So much for your wonderful plan," said James flatly.
Edward closed his eyes briefly, trying to push away his frustration at once again having to soothe James's hurt feelings. He took everything so personally. His self esteem was surprisingly brittle and Edward knew from past experience that when it shattered, the shards were usually long and sharp enough to inflict damage on anyone unfortunate enough to be in the vicinity. Managing an upset James always involved some careful manoeuvring so as not to make the situation worse and Edward couldn't shake the feeling that it ought to be a lot easier than this after so many years.
Dealing with the China Clay twins was so much more straightforward. All he needed to do was admonish them when they behaved badly and praise them when they behaved well. It was simple and he appreciated them more than they knew because of that simplicity.
"Well," he said, opening his eyes and putting on his most appeasing tone of voice, "I don't know what you did to warrant such a punishment but I do know that you acted with the best of intentions."
"Did I?" James was clearly aiming to sound aloof but couldn't hide the anger bubbling away below the surface.
Edward waited.
And then James's bottom lip quivered and the mask cracked. "She threatened me, Edward," he said quietly, suddenly looking unhappier than the older engine had witnessed in a very long time.
"I don't believe that she meant it that way," he said comfortingly. "I doubt she even remembers saying anything. Honestly, James, Nia hasn't betrayed your trust. Anything you've told her in confidence remains between the two of you."
James gave a short, bitter laugh. "That's the point, Edward. I haven't told her anything, not really. Nia worked it out herself. She's been here for a few weeks and she noticed something which everyone else has managed to miss for decades. I trusted her with that knowledge, and look where it's got me."
There was another pause, before James asked the question Edward had been hoping to hear. "Is she all right?"
"She will be," Edward told him. "Please don't bear a grudge, James. Life isn't easy for her at the moment and she will need a good deal of support from all of us to get through it."
James snorted in derision and Edward decided it was time to push the point home, for Nia's sake. With James in such a volatile state, there was a distinct risk that the new engine would bear the brunt of his mood and Edward wanted to head off that prospect as soon as possible. "She told me about her friend from Kenya who has gone missing-"
"Well, that shows just how much you know," interrupted James smugly. "Grace wasn't Nia's friend, actually."
"Grace?"
James's face fell as he took in Edward's puzzlement and realisation dawned. "You don't mean Shomari?"
"I'm afraid so. I thought Nia might have spoken to you about the news already, but as that doesn't seem to be the case, I should warn you that it doesn't sound good," Edward told him sombrely.
"Oh." James appeared lost in thought. Edward waited in silence, hoping that he had done enough. When he felt sufficient time had elapsed for the news to sink in, he moved on to the matter of James himself.
"James, if you need someone to talk to-"
"I don't," James cut across him. "I'm fine."
"Forgive me for saying this, but you don't seem fine."
James looked at him, his expression suddenly hardening again. "Edward, if you really cared, you would have noticed yourself that something wasn't right, the way Nia did. Don't think you can act the wise old engine now, when someone else has pointed it out to you years after the event."
"James-" Edward began, trying to placate him.
"NO!" snapped James. "I don't want to hear it! This isn't about me at all, is it? It's about you. You just want to prove how wise and understanding and valuable you are so the Fat Controller doesn't decide to retire you and leave you in the shed again!"
It cut deeply, just as it was intended to, all the more incisive for being so unexpectedly well observed. To some extent Edward had considered his friendship with James to be worth more for having been hard won, but now he had a horrible sense that despite appearances it hadn't been reciprocated at all. Apparently James had spent the years whittling away at his grievances until finally he was left with the sharpest possible point, one that could pierce straight to the core of the matter and inflict the deepest injury. He hadn't even been on Sodor during those awful, dark days and could only know of them second-hand. Somehow that made the comment worse, and Edward's fire roared with indignation that James could think it acceptable to say such a thing. He had spent years trying to understand what drove James to make the decisions he did, trying to be the supportive friend he felt the red engine needed with little return, and now here he was, being insulted for not having done enough just because his colleague was having a bad day. Edward's temper was not easily roused but anyone with the slightest hint of self-respect would react to such provocation.
It was time to apply the brakes, as he had advised Philip to do. Besides, if Edward didn't put James firmly in his place he would only take his anger out on someone else, and then who knew what the outcome would be?
But, because he was Edward and therefore noticed such things, he could see the apprehension in James's eyes. He had gone further than he had meant to and feared the consequences – although the determined set of his jaw told Edward that no apology would be forthcoming.
"Is that so?" he said icily. "Let me remind you, James, shocking though the idea may be for you to comprehend, 'this' isn't about you either. Nia ought to be the focus and the sooner you realise that and stop trying to paint yourself as some kind of victim, the better the outlook for you."
James's eyes flashed. "You don't understand-" he snapped, but Edward cut him off, hissing excess steam and determined to have his say.
"You've said enough. I have tried to understand but it seems that you've been too self-absorbed to notice. You can have as many secrets you like, it makes no odds to me, but that reaction to a simple expression of concern was inexcusable. If you're not careful, you'll find that help isn't offered so readily in future."
Scowling fiercely, James opened his mouth to retort but to Edward's immense relief, the guard's whistle sounded from behind him. "Good night, James," he said coldly, pulling away from the platform. "I suggest you move those trucks before the passengers complain of the smell."
Xxx
Thomas had been looking forward to returning to his berth since mid-afternoon. It had been a difficult day all round. Irene from the post office had not been best pleased at the news that her new young man was planning to travel halfway around the world for a few months and had broken off her budding relationship with Thomas's fireman. He had proceeded to mope about for most of the day, annoying the driver who had cheerfully declared that there were "plenty more fish in the sea."
That hadn't gone down well, and Thomas understood why. "I don't like fish either," he told the fireman sympathetically. For some reason, his driver had laughed until tears streamed down his face and the fireman stomped off across the platform. He was only coaxed back when the driver promised to stump up the funds for several rounds in the pub after their shift ended.
Then James had blocked the bridge because he was too arrogant to admit to being in the wrong and Thomas had arrived late to collect a party of schoolchildren from the Animal Park. He had been unable to make up the time, knocked down the pecking order by timetabled services, and a crowd of worried parents had gathered at Dryaw by the time he returned. His bad mood was further exacerbated when Diesel, still covering the branch line's goods services for Percy, lost a train which he should have collected from Knapford. The Fat Controller co-opted Thomas to help look for it, which meant listening to Diesel's snide comments about steamies and their inability to shunt properly for most of the evening.
"If you're so wonderful at shunting, why did the Fat Controller choose me to go to the Great Railway Show?" Thomas had asked him sweetly.
This did not help the situation.
When the trucks eventually turned up in the scrap yard, the mystery deepened. Reg informed him that the train had been left there at Edward's insistence. The trucks themselves were sulking at having been abandoned and refused to elaborate. Edward himself was abnormally vague about what had happened when Thomas encountered him on his return to Knapford, dutifully towing the trucks behind him. Diesel, by now perhaps understandably irate, had declared that as Edward was clearly a senile old kettle, perhaps it would have been better if he had been left in the scrap yard instead, and Percy was no better. Edward had merely rolled his eyes and departed on the return leg of his passenger service, but Thomas had felt duty-bound to defend his friends and the ensuing argument had led to a severe dressing-down from the stationmaster.
"Count yourselves lucky that the Fat Controller has already left for the night," he had said sternly, and Thomas realised with horror that he needed to be much more restrained if he harboured any hopes of going to India. Fortunately Percy was returning to the line tomorrow so he wouldn't have to see so much of Diesel.
The saddle tank was already in his berth when Thomas finally crawled back to Tidmouth, and he saw the chance to solve one piece of the puzzle. "Hello Percy! I don't suppose you know how Diesel's train ended up at Reg's scrap yard, do you?"
"There was a mix-up," answered Percy gloomily, his eyes fixed on his buffers. Thomas resisted the urge to press for more information, annoyed by his response. Honestly, he had spent all afternoon standing up for his friend in spite of what was a pretty glaring error on the smaller engine's part, and this was the reaction he got? He shouldn't have bothered. Whatever was on Percy's mind, he should just come out and say it, rather than going around with a mournful expression as though he was hauling some great burden.
Fortunately another arrival gave him an excuse to drop the subject and a means to lift his mood. Thomas grinned broadly as a scowling James came into view, relishing the chance to tease the bigger engine over his latest exploit. "Ah, that explains the smell!"
"Shut up, Thomas," growled James. Thomas chuckled mischievously but decided to hold his tongue until both James's crew and his own had finished their checks and departed for the night. He'd learned from past experience that that some things were best kept between engines. Emily also returned while he was waiting and by the time all of the people had left the sheds, he was almost ready to burst.
"So, James, how was your trip to the waste dump? Were Whiff and Scruff dazzled at having such a splendid engine in their humble sidings?"
James glowered at him. "Can't you think of any better topics for conversation? I'm already bored of this one."
"You would be. All right, if you're going to pout about it, I'll talk to Emily instead. Emily, have you heard about the amazing invisible worker at Knapford yards? No one has ever seen him and his voice can only be heard when James is around..."
Emily yawned. "Don't try to drag me into your quarrel. It's been a long day and I simply don't have the energy."
"Look, I've already apologised," James huffed. "What more do you want?"
"I think it's only fair that I get some fun out of it. Thanks to you, I've had a lot of angry people on my branch line this afternoon. You wouldn't understand how it is, I suppose."
"I wouldn't, for the simple reason that I don't disappoint my passengers." Thomas grinned, preparing to remind him of the bootlaces incident, but James saw what was coming and went on the offensive. "You know, life on this railway was much more agreeable when you weren't here. I sometimes wish you hadn't bothered to come back."
"Be careful what you wish for," muttered Percy, and instantly the attention of the other three fell upon him.
"What do you mean by that?" Emily asked, suddenly wide awake.
Percy sighed, apparently gearing himself up for his revelation. "Thomas is leaving Sodor again. He's going to India to be with Ashima."
Thomas's jaw dropped in confusion, half distressed that Percy had uncovered his plan and half delighted that that he had been so definite about it. It was rather as though his thoughts had collided abruptly with a set of buffers and for a moment he couldn't work out what to say, leaving Emily to fill the silence by exclaiming, "He's what?"
"I heard the Fat Controller and Mr Percival talking about it," Percy went on, his eyes still lowered in the manner of one who had lit a fuse but really didn't want to witness the resulting explosion. "I know I've misunderstood things that I've overheard before but this was different. Tell them, Thomas."
Caught between Emily's incredulous look and James's glare, Thomas accepted that he had no way out and he would have to face the music. "I'm not leaving forever, just visiting the Indian Railway. I'm sorry, Percy," he said, his voice dropping. "I was going to tell you, but I knew you would be upset so I decided to wait and see if the Fat Controller would agree to it first."
James sneered. "Of course he agreed! We all know who the favourite is now, don't we?"
"Not now, James," warned Emily.
"When, then? Someone has to tell him, we've all-"
"Not now," Emily repeated firmly. Thomas watched her with a rising sense of alarm, uncomfortable with the thought that there was some kind of long standing disagreement between the two over him.
He'd taken the others' interest in his foreign adventures as a sign of approval, but now he started to wonder if he had completely misread the situation. It rather derailed his happiness at the news that his plans seemed to have been successful and he really didn't know how to feel.
Undeterred, James went on. "Do you honestly think the Fat Controller would have charged off to Africa if I had been loaded onto a ship? Or you, Emily, or anyone else on this railway?"
The question was met with silence and Thomas looked towards Emily and Percy, both of whom refused to make eye contact with him. He began to speak, hoping to mollify James somehow, but he wasn't fast enough and the red engine picked up where he had left off.
"You don't get it, do you? You're so obsessed with going off and seeing the world that you don't have the faintest clue what's going on here on Sodor. You never stop to think how your actions affect anyone else. Remember what happened when you ran off with my trucks and left Sodor without telling the Fat Controller where you were going? You ended up imprisoned in the Steelworks on the Mainland, you put us both in danger and you nearly died!"
"I escaped!" Thomas cried, indignant. "I had to go back there because of you, James!"
"How was I supposed to know that? You vanished, you didn't come home and everyone was worried. And do you know why I went to find you?"
"You were angry that I got to have an adventure on the Mainland while you were stuck here," Thomas fired back, his expression triumphant: he was certain of the answer to that question having heard Percy's account of the incident. "You wanted to have an adventure of your own and come back looking like some kind of hero. Some hero you turned out to be, I had to rescue you!"
"Oh, for goodness' sake!" muttered Emily.
"I WENT BECAUSE PERCY PERSUADED ME TO!" James roared, dodging the undeniable truth in Thomas's reply. "And then what did you go and do? At the first chance you had, you went charging off again, putting yourself in danger again! That shows exactly how much you appreciated my efforts, and Percy's concern. You don't care about our feelings, do you Thomas? You don't care about anyone except yourself!"
This, coming from James of all engines, was quite astonishing but before Thomas could form a response Percy entered the fray. "I'm supposed to be your best friend, Thomas," he said quietly, still refusing to make eye contact, "but you never include me, you never tell me what's going on. You just leave me here to deal with the mess you leave behind."
Thomas stared at him, horrified at the realisation that his actions had led to Percy feeling so neglected. "I had to leave quickly last time, or Ace would have gone without me-" he began, but James cut in once again.
"Ace!" he snorted. "Oh yes, Nia's told me all about how charming a character he turned out to be!"
"James is right," Percy continued, ignoring the interruption. "You go off and you make new friends and you forget about us."
Thomas sighed, trying to fight his rising dismay. Percy had something of a track record for making silly decisions when he felt slighted and Thomas knew that if he wasn't careful what he said, things could easily escalate and before they knew it some sort of disaster would be unfolding. "You are my best friend, Percy. Getting to know other engines doesn't change that."
"It does when you go off to foreign countries to see them instead of staying here. Nia gets letters from her old friends in Africa. Why can't your crew write to Ashima instead?"
"That wouldn't be the same at all! Look, Percy, I've gone about this the wrong way. I should have been honest with you from the start. I'm sorry."
Percy continued to stare glumly at his buffers. Thomas tried a different approach. "If this trip goes well, there could be opportunities for all of us. Perhaps the Fat Controller might send you to work with Gator for a while. Who knows?"
This seemed to tip the balance where Emily was concerned and she looked at Thomas with a cold expression. "Oh, so you had completely altruistic intentions when you asked if you could go to India? Don't insult our intelligence, Thomas!"
"There won't be any special opportunities for us," said James bluntly. "The North Western Railway doesn't work like that and everyone knows it. What's so special about Ashima anyway? You've already brought another engine with fancy paintwork back to Sodor. Are you collecting them or something?"
"Oh, I know what's going on here!" snapped Thomas. "You're jealous that the attention isn't on you!"
James looked towards Percy. "You see? I told you he would say that."
Thomas tried to remain calm but the fact that James kept dodging around whatever it was he really wanted to say meant his patience was dwindling rapidly. "Oh, so this is what it was like while I was away? Everyone criticising me behind my bunker? So much for supportive friends!"
"Did you think we'd all just sit around pining for you?" returned James. "We had a railway to run!"
"This coming from the engine who refused to work on my branch line!" Thomas fired back, annoyance spiking at James's rather sanctimonious tone.
"Do you want to know why I refused to work on your backwater branch line, Thomas?" hissed James. "Because I'm not suited to it at all. All that stopping every few minutes and making polite conversation with passengers just isn't me. My place is on the Main Line. Percy is far better at that kind of work than I am and he deserves far more credit for it than anyone around here ever gives him. And that's what I told Mr Percival."
Thomas gaped. This was as close to an admission of failure as James was ever likely to make without duress. "You didn't tell me that," he muttered to Percy.
"You didn't listen," replied Percy miserably.
"You never listen!" added James. "If you did, you wouldn't have gone to Africa."
"That's ENOUGH!" If Thomas's patience was in short supply, Emily's was apparently long gone. "Now is not the time! We can discuss this in the morning when everyone has had time to consider it. Some of us have been working hard today, making up for the Twins' absence. I am exhausted, and the last thing I want is to listen to you two arguing all night when I could be sound asleep. So would the two of you kindly shut up and give the rest of us some peace!"
"What on earth is going on?" All four engines had been so preoccupied that no one had noticed Gordon's approach and he was now waiting next to the turntable looking distinctly unimpressed.
None of the others felt inclined to enlighten him. To Gordon, it probably seemed as though they had fallen silent out of respect for him but in truth no one wanted to continue the argument in front of his crew, who were leaning from his cab and watching the proceedings with interest. There was every likelihood that they would report back to the Fat Controller that a blazing row had taken place at the sheds and no one wanted that to happen.
Thomas sizzled in silence while Gordon's fire was extinguished and his crew attended to their duties. Rebecca appeared soon after and even her cheeriness couldn't dissipate the awkward atmosphere.
"Hello, everyone! Oof, it's been a busy day. I'm more than ready for a good night's sleep. Oh, where's Nia? She's usually back by now, isn't she?"
"Trust me, Nia will be fine," said James harshly. "She knows exactly how to look after herself."
Rebecca looked taken aback at this unusually sharp response and Gordon proceeded to glare at James until the railway workers had all departed for a well-earned rest.
"Well?" demanded the big engine, his face like thunder.
"Well what? Don't look at me, look at Thomas. This is all his doing."
Gordon continued to scowl. "Is it? I think it worth noting that arguments in the sheds were a rare occurrence when Edward slept here."
Emily groaned at this astounding lack of tact, and Thomas rolled his eyes at him in disbelief.
"Oh, so you're going to blame me for every disagreement just because Edward has left?" cried James, predictably riled. "It's about time everyone on this railway recognised the truth. Edward isn't special. He's just an engine like the rest of us. Stop pretending he's got some kind of... of magical ability to fix everyone's problems."
"Edward's twice the engine you are," retorted Thomas, getting in before a surprised Gordon had a chance to respond.
James raised an eyebrow. "Oh, really? How does it feel to know he's replaced you with Philip?"
Thomas suddenly felt a chill which had nothing to do with his empty firebox. "He hasn't!"
"Of course he has. He's found another annoying little engine who can't function without his guidance to dispense wisdom to because you weren't here."
Gordon and Emily both erupted at this, scolding James for adding more fuel to the fire, while Rebecca looked on with an increasingly worried expression. It was Percy who managed to calm the situation. He had finally looked up and was watching James thoughtfully. "James, has something happened? Have you been arguing with Nia and Edward?" he asked.
James seemed to deflate suddenly. "It doesn't matter," he said grumpily. "Do whatever you want, Thomas, the same as you always do. We know where we stand."
But Thomas, looking around at the others, saw the weary disappointment on Emily's face and the misery on Percy's and realised that he couldn't say the same. Gordon rather firmly reminded them all of the lateness of the hour and bade a pointed goodnight and, as an unhappy silence fell and the others began to doze off, he gazed miserably up at the cloudy night sky. Why had no one said anything before? Sodor had been a place of certainty while he had been overseas but now the rails were unfamiliar and the way ahead unclear.
He could head off to India and leave all of this bad feeling behind him, but he would have to return eventually and no doubt his standing on the NWR would have diminished even further by then. James and Percy had made their feelings quite clear and to leave Sodor again now their dissatisfaction was out in the open would look like a deliberate snub. No, there was only one option left to him: he couldn't go. He had been so close, so frustratingly close to seeing Ashima again and now his dream had been snatched away once more.
At least Irene from the post office should be happy.