HURRICANE

Part Eight

The months sped by. Autumn officially arrived and with it came Hurricane's decision that he must now work for the best railway in the whole wide world for he had never felt happier or more fulfilled in his entire life. He had made many fast friends, both engine and human, he loved his crew and knew that they loved him, and he thoroughly enjoyed working at whatever tasks were asked of him and showing himself off on occasion up at Ulfstead. The only hitch in his happiness was that he never did manage to make amends with Diesel and his nasty cronies, but even that was okay. Diesel fearful translated into a Diesel who continued to behave himself for the most part, and there were no further incidents worthy of Hurricane's intervention. The only individuals Hurricane expressed any aggression towards at all were the odd naughty rolling stock. His crew still got a charge out of watching him boss the trouble right out of a troublesome truck and would even egg him on to help out some of the smaller, more docile engines should their own trains dare give anyone any sass when the big A55 was around.

He still thought about Frankie too, sometimes. It was the only other sticking point in his otherwise perfect life, that he'd never gotten the chance to say his farewells to her. But again, it amounted to a very small regret at worst. The railway community as a whole was a tight one and gossip had a way of travelling the rails with almost miraculous speed. Hurricane was quite sure that Frankie would have heard that he and the other experimentals had landed softly and he took some comfort in that, that she knew by now that he was all right and no doubt wished him well in his new life.

The time for the annual Harvest Festivals drew closer and the Island's farmers began looking over their yearly produce, picking out what they wished to keep or sell locally and what they thought would bring better profits if sent abroad. Abroad in this case included the Mainland, and it wasn't long before train-loads of precious perishables were running the rails through Vicarstown and over the Channel and on to Bridlington on an almost daily basis. Hurricane was a natural early choice to pull such trains and was delighted to find himself paired with Emily on his first Mainland job. The two of them were required to manage an unusually large number of cars making up their consist, and since Emily was the one who knew the route over and Hurricane didn't, he and his crew were more than happy to function as the Stirling Single's back engine on the outgoing leg of their journey.

It turned into a splendid if somewhat slow trip. The train was indeed very long, so long that Emily and Hurricane couldn't talk to each other even if they'd shouted as loud as they could, but the A55 could see her sometimes when they rounded a long gradual curve, perkily leading and chuffing along, her tall distinctive funnel always hard to miss. It wasn't until they pulled into the Bridlington goods yard in the midafternoon and were both uncoupled and parked on a pair of sidings across from one another that the two engines could converse again. Emily was quite pleased by how well they'd worked together. Hurricane had taken up a lot of the load and provided more help than some other back engines she'd been assigned in the past.

"Thanks for pushing so hard," she enthused, "and for keeping the trucks in line. You don't even have to say anything to them anymore, do you?"

"Naw. My reputation speaks for me," Hurricane replied, and grinned. He was feeling quite elated to be back in the freight yard he'd once known so well and was actually looking forward to overnighting in the big station. "I'm glad you were the lead engine. I've never come into the yard from the direction we did. I think I would've got us lost, especially coming through that big junction with about a million points."

Emily laughed. "Oh, I'm sure your crew would have managed. Do you want to try leading when we take the empties back tomorrow?"

"I dunno. It's up to our humans, really. I think Mister Lorne and Mister Pat kind of liked being behind you, though. One of them said it gave more time for sightseeing, being the back engine."

"I think he's right." She looked about, her gaze falling on some nearby flatbeds carrying metal rods. "That almost looks like it came from your old steelworks, those loads over there. Do you think they did?"

"Probably." He examined the laden flatbeds in turn and his tone grew more excited as he added, "Oh yeah, for sure they did! Look, you can see the insignia on the sides, kinda small, but that's our old insignia all right."

"How long did it take you to make runs to this yard?"

"About half an hour, give or take. It always depended on the weight. And some of the loads were a little awkward sometimes, extra-long lengths or weird shapes that were hard to fasten down and stuff like that."

His last comment made Emily laugh again. "We've had a few weird loads to deal with on Sodor too," she said.

The two of them paused to refocus on their crews as they finished with their shut-down routines and quit their respective engines' cabs. All four men lingered for a few minutes, standing together between the locos as they discussed their evening plans, then began drifting slowly forward towards the yard's major pedestrian gate. Since they were overnighting in Bridlington, the same as their engines, they had time to kill and were in no hurry.

The sight of the men just sauntering along suddenly triggered something in the watching Stirling Single. "Hurricane," she whispered urgently, "this is your chance! Ask your crew to take you over to the steelworks right now. I bet they would and I bet you'd even get to see your friend Frankie again."

"Ask them? Oh, I can't. We have nothing to do with the steelworks."

"Don't be silly. It can't hurt to ask! They'll say no if they're busy, but they don't look busy to me." And before Hurricane could say another word, Emily started yelling for her driver. "Mister Goodyear! Mister Goodyear!"

"No! Wait! Emily!" Hurricane started to hiss, but it was too late. Both crews had already stopped in response to Emily's call and her driver began walking back to them alone. His expression was inquisitive and a wee bit concerned as he came up to the two engines.

"Emily? Is something troubling you, my dear?"

"Not me, sir, it's Hurricane," she replied. "He was just telling me that we're only a half hour away from the steelworks where he used to work and he never got to say good bye to his best friend who's still working there. I don't suppose it'd be possible for him to visit quickly…would it?"

In response, Mister Goodyear at once turned to beckon to the three men who were still waiting for him, and as soon as they'd returned, forwarded the Stirling's request. Lorne frowned, but not because he was angry.

"Geez, you shoulda said something, big guy," he remarked to his engine. "It's only half an hour away, you said?"

"Yes, sir," Hurricane replied, vastly relieved that none of the humans seemed annoyed to have been held up.

"And it's Frankie, right? This diesel pal you never got to see again after the boss bought ya?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Well, hell…" His driver took his cap off, scratched his head, checked his watch. "It ain't even teatime yet. Pat? You wanna go see Hurricane's old steelworks? Providing they'll let us in, I mean? I don't know if they'll be too happy about us just showing up. Kind of a dangerous place."

"We could try calling ahead," Pat suggested. "I'll bet the yardmaster has their number."

"Hey, good idea! Whyn't you go do that? You got more tact than me. Tell 'em Hurricane's been moonin' after his old girlfriend or somethin' like that."

"Will do," the fireman promised and trotted off to exercise his so-called tact. Hurricane, blushing, glanced over at Emily, and when he saw how smugly satisfied she was, he turned even redder. But he was already grateful too, because she'd spoken up for him, and his expression turned pleading as he began nursing the sudden hope that Mister Pat would be able to convince someone to let him visit his old worksite.

As soon as Pat came back out of the yardmaster's office hut, they all knew that he'd come through for them for he had one thumb up and an actual smile on his dour, weary face. More than that, he relayed once back, he'd gotten the invite from the factory manager himself, one Mister Finch.

"Guess you must've done something good," Pat concluded, addressing Hurricane. "He remembered you and said he'd be happy to show us around while you have your chat. Sounds decent, no?"

"It is," the big tank engine agreed, sounding faint because he was a tad astonished. He'd always gotten the impression that Mister Finch didn't care about the feelings of locomotives, and yet… Maybe Mister Pat had just caught him at a good moment.

Hurricane's crew swung aboard at that point to get him fired right back up into full boil while Emily's crew carried on as before. He glanced again at the emerald green Stirling parked next to him.

"Thank you. Thanks so much, Emily!' he blurted hurriedly as he started forward.

"Good luck!" she said back. "I'll see you later tonight."

"Yes…" And then he felt too overcome to speak any further; it was all happening too fast and he was on his way to see Frankie, really see her, and his focus tightened until all he could see was the track directly in front of him. It was a track he still knew well, he hadn't forgotten, and he leaned into the points to leave the yard without even waiting for his driver to steer him over. Within minutes he was chuffing along the old line home, his former home. The once familiar landmarks, the woods, the hedgerows, the canal with its barges and the colourful crane who looked wistfully after him at times, he saw none of it, it was all about the tracks directly in front of him which were bearing him ever closer to the steelworks. Dimly, he was aware that he was probably running too fast, yet Lorne never checked him. All he did was let him go. Hurricane felt a rush of thanks towards the humans in his cab in addition to his profound gratitude for what Emily had done. He knew he could never have broached the possibility of visiting with Frankie on his own.

There were the gates, wide open and just as he remembered them. He rolled forward, onto the steelworks grounds. There seemed to be several additional rail lines looping about the building and a rectangular extension on one side, otherwise everything looked much the same to him, renovated or not. Even the figure standing on the rails close to the factory and waiting for them looked the same, a man wearing a business suit and a hard hat. He smiled as Hurricane approached him, lifted a hand to halt the engine.

"Hello! You made good time," Mister Finch remarked. "Hurricane, you're looking good."

"Thank you, sir."

Another shock. Hurricane couldn't remember Mister Finch even acknowledging him before. Then Lorne came forward, striding past his engine's front.

"Hello again. And you must be Mister Greene, yes?" the manager said while shaking the other man's proffered hand.

"Naw, not quite, sir. I'm Lorne Paulson, the driver. The guy you wuz talkin' to on the phone's my fireman, ol' Pat there."

He paused to indicate his colleague, who was hanging partway out of Hurricane's cab window. Pat waved and Mister Finch waved back, smiling.

"All right then," the steelworks manager carried on. "You see that short track there right behind you, leading to that turntable? What I'll get you two to do is reverse your engine over the points and onto it and back up some. I'll send the diesel you want to join Hurricane after that, and later on you can get him turned about there before you leave. In the meantime, would you care to enjoy a spot of tea before we start our tour? We have a rather nice cafeteria now that'll be open for a few more hours. I can even offer you an early supper if you're hungry."

"Tea and a sticky bun or two will do for now, thanks," Lorne replied cheerfully, and his host smiled again.

"Excellent. Sticky buns we have, in spades." And with that, Mister Finch backed up again and waited and watched while his visitors repositioned themselves, after which all three men soon departed for their close encounter with the steelworks plant and the sticky buns and it was only the big A55 left waiting by himself on the turntable track. Mister Lorne had given the loco an affectionate thump on the buffer plate and a wink before his crew had left him, yet he still felt unprepared and a little dazed. Everything had happened so fast!

A boxy and very familiar silhouette appeared on the main line he'd just left. A minute more and Frankie's driver had switched her over in turn onto the turntable track. She said nothing, just looked as stunned as Hurricane felt as she drew closer and closer. She still hadn't said a word by the time her driver halted her a few engine-lengths away from Hurricane and continued to say nothing at all while her crewman hopped out and marched away, back to the steelworks and the world of men. The two locomotives he left behind just kept staring at each other, wordlessly. For the moment, it was all they could manage and it was enough.

Hurricane began rolling forward, wheel turn by slow wheel turn. He could still barely believe that she was right there on the tracks before him. It seemed more likely that she would vanish at any second, nothing but a yearned-for apparition after all. Yet her vision remained all through his awestruck approach and the expressions playing over her face continued to mirror his own. Then their buffers touched, oh so gently, the reality of her presence made undeniable. Frankie's mien grew almost dreamy, a little disbelieving herself.

"Oh. Your buffers are still warm," she murmured.

"They'll always be warm for you, Frankie," Hurricane breathed, and the diesel batted her eyes and tittered a bit in that little-girl way she had about her when she was relaxed and very happy. The big steam engine sighed. It had been far too long since he'd heard her giggle.

"It's really you, isn't it?" she followed up. "I knew finally that you were all right, and Lexi and Merlin and Theo too. But I wanted so much to see you again, just to make sure. I never thought I would…"

"I didn't think I'd ever get to see you again either. Are you okay? You look good."

"I'm fine. You look good too." Another girlish bat of her lashes. "All painted up and polished for the tourists now, I hear."

"Aw, I still work too," Hurricane was quick to protest, falling readily back into the sometimes teasing relationship he'd had with her, which he'd loved so well. "I just delivered a big load over at Bridlington. That's the only reason I got to come see you, because we got in late enough to have to overnight."

"Did you now. A whole long train all by yourself?"

"Well, no. I was helping one of the Sodor steamers."

"Still helping out…"

"Ayuh. And she helped me out in turn. She's the one who got my crew to bring me over to see you. I wanted to ask, but…you know."

"I do know," Frankie said. "You've always been so selfless… And still quite the enthusiastic charmer when it comes to ladies in need of assistance, I've heard."

"Aw-w," Hurricane repeated, and blushed. That was another thing about Frankie. She could always leave him too abashed to formulate a single intelligible word with just a single praising phrase or glance.

She asked for more about the experimental engines' situation after that and Hurricane found his voice again as he enthused about their friends' new owner and his wonderful private railway. Frankie's eyes grew wide when he described the castle grounds and how they'd all helped the Earl build the outdoor parts of his railway museum and how grand the opening of it had been. It was the perfect home for unique engines such as Lexi, Merlin and Theo. And they were in great, positively exalted company—Stephenson's Rocket lived at Ulfstead too!

"Oh, I'd heard something about that," enthused Frankie in turn. "That the Rocket lived on an island somewhere now. I didn't realize it was Sodor."

"Ayuh, he's on Sodor all right. All fixed up and back on the rails and he even does his own little tours, kinda short, but still…"

"That's amazing! So what does he think of Lexi?"

Hurricane laughed. "He thinks she's funny, I guess. He likes telling her crazy stories about the old days and seeing how much he can get past her."

"Oh no! I bet she believes every word he says to her."

"She usually does, yeah. Stephen just likes teasing us. He got me a few times at first too."

The big tank engine trailed off again, once more overcome by the simple wonder of his old friend's presence. He looked over at the steelworks plant while he composed himself. The little open alcove they'd once slept in together was still there and so were the tracks which accessed its interior. But there were at least four diesels in total now, weren't there? Far too many to all fit into such a limited space.

"Where do you all stay now?" he asked with genuine curiosity. "I see our old quarters are still there, and that little shed they put me in. You're not working in shifts or something, are you?"

His query instigated a happy laugh. "On the contrary," Frankie said. "We actually take turns having afternoons off now, unless there's a rush on the orders we have to keep up with." She noted where he'd been looking and added, "Our old quarters? They turned that into our maintenance and repair shop. And I don't think you can see it from where you are, but they added a proper diesel shed onto the plant just off the through tracks that run around to the right. A berth for each of us now, plus a spare just in case."

"So there are, like, four of you now? Five?"

"Five! Two shunters and two more bigger diesels, like me."

She chattered some more about the new engines, their classes and specs, and how hard-working and nice they all were. Hurricane couldn't help grinning when she revealed that only one of the shunters and the biggest new diesel were male.

"Uh uh. So you females are in the majority now, is that it?"

"We're always in the majority, no matter what our actual numbers," Frankie laughed. "I should think that you of all engines would know that."

"You got me there. Can't say I ever minded, though."

"I know. And don't think I didn't appreciate how much you always helped me, no matter what I wanted."

"Mm. My pleasure. Hey! Do you ever still sing our old song?"

"There's really not much need for it anymore. Besides, I can't imagine ever singing it with anyone but you." She smiled sweetly up at her old friend, then began intoning in a soft voice, "This is the hottest place in town…"

Hurricane jumped in at once. "We'll warm you up when you're feeling down," he sang back.

"We'll make a smile out of every frown…"

"Just take a look around at the joy we've found!"

Their impromptu duet dissolved in deep chuckles and a skirl of feminine titters, then they just sat, gazing happily into each other's eyes. It was so good to feel that they still shared so much. Hurricane felt a tiny niggle to his conscience as he thought about their past misadventures and scheming.

"We were pretty bad, weren't we?" he said.

"A little bad," Frankie agreed. "Not too much, though. Our crews would have stepped in if we'd ever pushed it too much. As it was, all we ever got was a day or two's worth of help now and then."

"Remember James, that last one from Sodor that we chased around a bit? He's still a little ticked at me because of it."

"Oh dear! Well, I'm not that surprised. He seemed rather lazy to me. Didn't want to get dirty."

"He's still like that. Even Thomas, who's his pal, thinks he's vain."

"I liked Thomas. I'm a little sorry now that I had to be so strict with him, but the saucy ones do need that. They'll just run you over otherwise."

"Ha ha! Too true. Although in his case, he ran away from us."

"Didn't he, though! I still can't believe how fast he was…"

They reminisced on, fully immersed in their old, dear friendship once more. The time should have hounded like Furies, yet they never noticed a thing beyond one another, and when the sun began setting and slanting its golden rays over the land and the engines' crews came back for them, both had fallen into a warm, companionable silence, all that they needed to say to each other said at last. The final thing Frankie murmured as she was reversed away was a soft, "Good bye, Hurricane. You take care of yourself now." And the A55, he expressed his own variant of the same, his voice just as gentle, just before he was backed onto the turntable behind himself and spun around. It was a sweet farewell. Lorne and Pat didn't say much either. They could see that Hurricane was still besotted by some deep emotion and wanted to give him the space to savour it as long as possible.

By the time they reached the Bridlington goods yard again, Hurricane's mood had morphed back into elation. He effusively thanked Emily all over again as soon as he was parked next to her on his own siding again and thanked his crew too, several times, as they prepared to leave him for the night. Both Lorne and Pat patted his buffer beam fondly in response.

"Hey, any time," his driver said. "Pat an' I, we made out like bandits. Sticky buns and free beef stew...who could ask for more? That's a pretty cool place you used ta work in too. Yer old boss gave us the grand tour."

"A pretty hot place, you mean," Pat corrected. Lorne gave him a shove.

"Don't get smart. Hurricane knows what I meant. Well, see you tomorrow, big guy. You too, Emily. Sleep in late tomorrow if ya want 'cause we're sure plannin' to." And with that said, off the two men went, still bumping each other on occasion with their shoulders. It was getting dark enough that the yard lights began to switch on even as they walked along and they were soon swallowed by the darkness past the parking lot outside the gate. Hurricane sighed. He couldn't have been happier, and now that his excitement was starting to wane, he could feel the fatigue brought on by his long day's worth of freight work plus the extra hour of fast steaming, to and from the steelworks, pulling at his undercarriage. Luckily, they were in the quiet, more dimly lit end of the yard, close enough to the yardmaster's hut and the office buildings where the yard workers clocked in and out that there were always human eyes around to keep watch.

Emily had been watching Hurricane. "See?" she said, sounding a touch smug. "I knew your crew wouldn't mind taking you over to your old works. And they as much as said you could ask them to do so again, next time you're here."

"Yeah, I guess."

"Was it a good visit? You got to talk to Frankie?"

"It was perfect. They left us facing each other on a track away from the plant a little. We talked the whole time. Talked ourselves out, really."

"I'm so glad for you, Hurricane. You sound like you're at peace now."

"Actually, I think that's just me being tired. It's catching up with me, I guess. Pushing that long train and then running over to the plant…it's more than I thought I'd be doing today."

"That's why I thanked you earlier for being my back engine. Even up front, I could feel how hard you were working." She broke off to half-stifle a yawn. "Oops, see? Looks like I could use a good night's sleep myself. But I wanted to wait until you got back, to find out how you made out."

Hurricane smiled, touched by her continuous concern. "Fine. I made out fine," he assured her. "Just like I said. It's always good to see old friends."

"That's true." Emily almost yawned again. She was starting to feel quite sleepy herself, too sleepy to converse for much longer. "At least this is one old friend you already know you can see again. Just as soon as the next time you bring another long train to Bridlington and have to stay overnight."

Hurricane remained silent for a long, long interval this time to gather his thoughts before he spoke again. "I don't think so," he replied at last. "I said what I had to and I know for sure now that she's all right. And she's got new friends to help her out. It'd be nice to run into her again here in the yard or any of the new diesels working with her when we're doing our jobs. But going back to the steelworks again…no. She'll be okay."

He paused again before shifting his gaze and resting it on the emerald green engine beside him, his eyes now beautifully soft.

"Besides, everything I really need or want is on Sodor now. And everyone."

Emily beamed. There seemed little left to say after that except for her to wish him good night and Hurricane wished her a good night in turn. Before long, both locos were peacefully slumbering, the pretty Stirling Single on one track and right next to her, the big burly chestnut A55...Hurricane, her friend. And her hero.

THE END