The manager did not hesitate to follow Duke's word. I was indignant that an engine knew how to punish another engine, and following the rebuff at gratitude, I end up treating Duke as coldly as before, if not more so, when I see him I the morning and last thing at night before we head to sleep.
He never cared.
"It's not fair!" I complain. "How come Duke gets to decide how I get punished? The manager agreed to it with no arguments! I wonder where the trucks got their political ideas from- wherever it came from sounds like an ideal place to end up compared to this dump!"
"Be quiet!" My crew snap in sync- I'm not allowed out of the shed, but they still come in to check me over and things like that, so that I can get back to work as soon as possible, to save your confusion.
"You're lucky you weren't sent back to England!" My fireman tells me furiously. "Greig and I nearly lost our jobs due to your selfish, reckless behaviour! Besides, Duke's punishment was benign compared to what some engines get- regardless of his motives for doling it!"
"Besides, that shows that Duke has the manager's trust in deciding how to deal with unruly engines." My driver adds.
"Bah!" I snort.
...
A week drags itself into the dirt before I am finally allowed out- which is a relief, as staring out of the shed window for a whole week is now at the bottom of my recreation list.
"Woo!" I cheer delightedly, as I am finally steaming up.
"Well Falcon, will you behave today?" My driver asks me cheerily, oiling my wheels carefully.
"Oh yes sir! I'll try to sir!" I steam happily, sizzling like a...a sausage?
"Good- you'll be working with Duke today in the yard, so you should be on your best behaviour." My fireman tells me, going over to chat to the firelighter, while I splutter in disgust.
That puts a dampener on my mood. "Why?" I whine to my driver, who just glares.
"Regardless of how you see it, Falcon- Duke helped you last week, and he has high hopes for you."
"Why?" I grunt wheeshing furiously at my treacherous crew.
"That's quite enough, young engine!"
I gulp as I see Duke's shadow loom across the shed door. "I know what you're taking me for, and I'm not having anything that will not suit his Grace! Is that clear?" He asks, in a voice that is – I kid you not- a scary sounding cross between grumpy and icy.
"Yes, Duke." I answer meekly, though I am outraged at him for punishing me, and ordering me about!
I leave the yard fuming about that 'fuddy duddy'.
...
"No, no and no! That wouldn't do!"
"What? I didn't bump them off the line!" I protest, glaring at the trucks in front of me.
"You still biffed 'em too hard, young engine. Look, here's how it's done." He rolls up smoothly to some trucks of his own, and biffs them carefully- just hard enough to shunt them, but not so hard that they went too fast. "Try again."
All day, he nags, complains and fusses at my work, whilst doing his own. It was exhausting trying to beat a more experienced engine at his own game, and I gave up trying to outdo him when he always found something new to nit-pick at.
"Trust me, it's for your own good," He tells me sternly, after I complain for the millionth time about the soreness of my buffers and the dull ache in my wheels later that evening, as we finish.
"What good will that be, exactly, huh, Duke?" I huff irritatingly. "To torture me in your own disturbing way? To drive me up the buffers? To- Why would you care so much about how I act, anyway?"
Duke glances at me, face pink and orange from the sunset, and for the shortest time, I see his expression soften- but it disappears before I can ponder on this strange development.
"I am helping you..." he begins, tone more reserved than anything I have ever heard from him before. "...so you don't end up like him."
He's out of the yard before I can ask who 'he' is.