A CREW FOR EVERY ENGINE...
Part Two
Henry normally woke up gradually, coming back to life every morning to the welcome warmth of a fire already ablaze in his firebox and the water in his boiler already well-heated and poised to start bubbling. He'd feel the presence of his driver or fireman in his cab, tending to his pressures, and the gentle touches of the other crewman as he made his way around Henry's body, checking on his wheels, his lights, the connection between his engine self and tender, all the parts that needed to be in tip-top shape for safe nighttime driving. That was the routine he'd known for years and its very familiarity and predictability always afforded him comfort. Until today. On this pre-dawn morning, Henry's eyes popped wide open long before his crew, either the old or the new, showed up. He was already wide awake when the humans finally came for him, all four of them together, speaking very softly amongst themselves so as not to wake any of the other, still sleeping engines.
Henry's old driver saw at once that his loco was already awake, contrary to his usual habit, and smiled to himself, a little sadly. Anxious, he thought. Anxious and nervous. He hoped Henry would comport himself well for it was going to be their last morning together and he wanted to part on good terms and with good memories.
Getting Henry's fire going was the first priority and the engine was glad to feel that Mister Doyon, his new fireman, went about the task as well as did his old one and spread the initial pile of coal out into a nice even layer once the fuel had caught and was burning well so there wouldn't be an uncomfortable and damaging hot spot, just a soothing blanket of heat from one end of the floor of his firebox to the other. He also felt him tap the gauge monitoring his water level and that was also a small comfort for an engine, to know that his fireman was prepared to take care to keep his tubes well submerged. Henry started to relax. He knew he had issues when it came to the functioning of his firebox and always would, for he'd once been considered a bad steamer, a failing which had hampered him so much at times that his very existence had been in jeopardy. A major refit had supposedly solved all his problems, yet still he worried. The slightest little dip in his energy output, the merest hint of a cough or a spark wafting from his funnel…it always reminded him of the bad early days and the old dread would creep over him, making him feel faint and weak even when he was nothing of the sort. A good fireman, though…it helped. Henry best liked the ones who could bring up his steam quickly and strongly, so that the time he spent waiting to return to useful life was cut to a minimum.
Pierre Doyon was one of the good ones. Henry could soon sense the water in his boiler beginning to fizz and pop, the last stage before it switched over to a vigorous boil. And here came his new driver, trailed after by his old one…she was doing his walkaround and listening to the tips being given her by the other human. When she got to his front end, she caught Henry looking at her and gave him a brief, brilliant smile as she fingered his buffers and coupling, although she didn't say anything. Henry managed a tiny smile in return before losing his nerve and casting his gaze elsewhere. He knew he was still being silly, but was also beginning to realize that she didn't seem to mind his being bashful and that notion was…pleasant.
Steam began to waft out about his undercarriage, moistly caressing his wheels. The two drivers climbed aboard and he felt the soft little hands of the new one take hold of his controls, getting set to move him out. Henry responded instantly to his cues, eager to redeem himself. He was still concerned about what had happened early on during the day before and was determined to make up for his poor initial behaviour.
The first thing they did was that Henry's old driver directed the new one as to where to best stop to take on the new day's first load of fresh coal. Henry also needed a little water. His old driver typically only watered him and took on fuel at the end of his working day if Henry was really low in either department. The engine listened in as the humans discussed the coal situation on Sodor in general.
"So this is the best place to get coal, the Tidmouth depot?" he overheard his new driver ask.
"I think it's one of the best. They go through a lot of it here since it's the store nearest the sheds so it's pretty much guaranteed to be fresh. Also usually good quality. If it isn't, somebody'll show the effects of a bad batch pretty quickly."
"Ah. Makes sense."
"We also used to keep Henry's special anthracite here. They built a three-sided bin for it right there in that flat spot. A bit of a pain having to pitch it aboard by hand, bucketful by bucketful, but it did the trick until his refit."
"That was the big rebuild he had at Crewe, right?"
"Yes. Initially he was just sent there for repairs after a bad accident he had. But then Sir Topham Hatt decided they might as well address the firebox issue too while they had Henry onsite and already torn apart, so… All worked out for the best in the end, really. He does fine with regular coal now."
Henry stopped listening in at that point and tried to ignore the rest of the humans' conversation. He still had bad memories of what had happened to send him off to Crewe and of the panic and fright he'd felt while waiting there for the verdict of whether he was worth rebuilding at all.
The humans finished with his refueling and watering and his new driver sent him on. He chuffed forward, happy to be finally getting down to business and for the opportunity to show his new crew just how useful and obedient he could be.
Henry's usual routine first job of the day, pulling The Flying Kipper, always departed from the Brendam Docks nowadays which necessitated a good hour's worth of steaming before they'd even arrive at their job site. As usual, they used the mainlines and then the branch line usually managed by Edward to get to their destination. It was almost always a quiet, pleasant trip, with barely ever a soul to be seen as they travelled serenely through the dark, although there was always a smattering of lights visible in some of the houses' windows in the several villages they chuffed through en route, the mark of similar early risers such as themselves getting set to go off to work. Then Brendam itself would come into view and then the docks, which were always ablaze, often throughout the night depending on how much ships' traffic was coming through. Henry would encounter a personal paradox then—he still loved pulling The Flying Kipper despite the very real grief doing so had once caused him. Part of it was the surprise of finding out what he'd be asked to take, for The Kipper's composition was always varying. Even the fish vans that gave the train its name weren't always a given, and on those occasions, when the fishing was slow, a few extra trucks or flatbeds full of assorted goods were usually added to the Kipper instead. Whatever it was Henry wound up pulling, it was always weighted well within his capacity and he would always feel strong and able as he ferried his express through the cool, damp, predawn hours all the way up the mainlines to Vicarstown and sometimes beyond. After that, it was usually back to Knapford to pick up the orders for his next job and that part of it was good too, for his driver would sometimes let him run a bit to make up time as long as the traffic on the rails wasn't too heavy. Henry hoped that his new driver would let him run sometimes too. He knew he was quite speedy as big tender engines went, but rarely got the chance to demonstrate it since he did so much goods work.
Salty, the diesel shunter, was just adding the brake van to Henry's train as he pulled into the dockyard proper, and the two engines smiled and greeted each other as Henry passed by on his way to the Kipper's front end. There was no need to keep their voices down either. Everyone at the dockyard was always wide awake long before dawn every day. Henry called a greeting up at Cranky the crane too, who growled back his usual perfunctory acknowledgement in response. He'd just unloaded a whole four vans' worth of fish for the Kipper and was already fed up with having to put up with so much reek first thing in the morning.
Denise, the new driver, switched Henry over onto the track with his train and then backed him very slowly until he made contact with the first truck. Henry could tell that she was still feeling her way with his handling and that was fine with him. He was much happier with new drivers who were cautious and careful than those who got impatient and rushed him through his everyday work, something which always made him nervous. Both firemen suddenly hopped down out of his cab as he was being coupled up and Henry heard the men talking just behind his tender to some of the dock workers. Making introductions and new friends, Henry guessed. He knew that humans were social creatures…just as social as engines.
The two firemen got back aboard and they soon moved out. There were two quick ways they could go then, retrace their route until they reached the mainlines again or cut over through Suddery and then north on the Loop to get onto the mainlines just past Maron. Henry overheard his old driver direct his new one to use the Loop route. He also overheard him telling her that one could also turn south onto the Loop line and that it would likewise eventually hook up with the mainlines much further along and make for a very nice, even more scenic drive, but that such would be wasted in the dark, not to mention that it would add a good deal of time to their journey…it was better to get back onto the mainline as fast as possible where they could travel more safely at speed. Henry found himself internally nodding along in agreement as he continued to listen in. He preferred the mainlines himself for similar reasons. And they were always the best maintained tracks and thus the smoothest ones to run on, he thought.
The eastern horizon was getting quite bright by the time they did reach the mainlines again and the new people inside Henry's cab could finally actually see some of the sights his old driver had been trying to point out. Before that, they'd begun making a bit of a game out of it, with Henry's old driver or fireman claiming that they were just now passing Sodor's main airport or that there were the ruins of a castle on the hill just off there to the right in the dark, to which his new driver would respond with a cheerful "I'll take your word for it", after which everyone would chuckle. Henry liked it when the humans operating him were chatty and sounded happy. He was always acutely sensitive to the moods of the people around him and always felt safer when their moods were good, for he was unfortunately far more aware than most engines as to how much his very fate depended on their whims.
They got past Cronk and Killdane in good order and after that it was smooth sailing all the way to Crovan's Gate and then on again to Vicarstown, which on this day would be their final destination. The sun came up beautifully while Henry was en route and was shining down on them when they finally eased to a stop at a goods platform in the yard just off the canopied passenger station. "What a nice run!" Denise exclaimed as she set Henry's brakes, then ran a hand over the outward side of his cab just beneath her window and added, "Good boy. Always in control and I don't believe I heard a single off beat the whole way. Good job, Henry."
The green engine felt himself starting to flush again. He didn't know why her praise affected him so much. His old driver patted him and praised him too sometimes, which was always very enjoyable, but it never made him flush. He supposed he still hadn't gotten used to her being a woman. Her hand petting him just felt…different, although he was at a loss to explain even to himself exactly what that difference was.
A shunter came to take Henry's train away and the two drivers went off to tend to the paperwork generated by his delivery. Even his two firemen hopped out and left. There were plenty of rail workers about by now who could look after Henry and he was accustomed to having a break at this point while his crew had their own short rest. He was still feeling very good about how his new driver had acknowledged his work. It boded well for the future of their entire relationship and he was starting to think that changing crews might be good for him in general.
When they returned to Knapford later on in the morning, Henry's new driver let him run to make up time just like his old driver did, and the big green Black Five arrived at the main station in fine form and with a great big smile on his face…just because.
Sir Topham Hatt was glad to see that Henry was in good spirits when he came out to oversee the loco's official crew changeover. He'd still been a touch concerned about Henry's over-the-top reaction when he'd first introduced him to the Doyons the day before and was relieved by his people's assurance that the engine had already gotten over it.
"He's still being a bit timid of you-know-who, but that's just our Henry being Henry…aren't you, old boy?" the engine's old driver said, running a hand fondly over the familiar red edge of his running board. His old fireman stepped forward to pat him too. Despite himself, Henry felt himself blushing yet again—how embarrassing!—and that thought, of course, just made his cheeks flush more than ever.
"Thanks for being my crew for so long," he said shyly to the two men.
"Oh, yer not quite rid of us yet," his old fireman said. "You'll still see us most every evening back in the sheds an' y' never know…we might fill in as yer relief crew now and then."
The Fat Controller smiled happily. He could tell that Henry was indeed fine now that he'd had a little time to get used to the changes and that he was just being emotional.
"That's exactly right, Henry," he said to his engine. "It's not as if your old crew is leaving forever. Edward's the one who's truly losing his crew and so is the North Western Railway. They'll be retiring soon."
Henry watched a round of hand-shaking go on after that and suddenly his old crew was gone, out of his field of vision. Sir Topham Hatt walked off as well. The only humans left in front of him on the platform were the two newbies.
The man, Pierre, suddenly clapped a hand against Henry's running board where the other two men had been petting him. "Ha haa, you are ours now, Henri! We can do w'at we want wid you now, eh?" he crowed.
Henry regarded him with wide eyes. "Oh! Yes. Ha. Of course." He laughed a little, sure that the man was just joking. He hoped.
"He's just kidding with you, Henry," Denise confirmed. "Pierre's going to stay with you while I go off toooo….dispatch. Pick up new orders from dispatch. Now where the heck was that…?"
She wandered off in turn, down the platform. Pierre left too, but only to climb up and into Henry's cab. He started tending to his fire, bringing the locomotive's pressures up again.
Denise soon came back with a big grin on her face.
"Well, they gave us an easy one. Right back to the same docks to pick up some parts for the steamworks at Crovan's Gate. Then the steamworks guys'll have a load for us to take to some scrap yard near that Wellsworth place where we turned off onto that branch line and that'll be it for the day. No hurry on any of it, the dispatcher said. Just have it done by the end of the workday and they'll be happy."
"Ah. Dis'll be good. We learn de routes in the daytime now. We should take dat Loop route de long way dis time if we don't need to 'urry."
"Good idea! Maybe we'll even see that castle they claimed was up on that hill."
Henry, who'd been listening in with interest, was pleased, both for his and his new crew's sake. Two more easy jobs by the sounds of it and then they'd be free to go home. Maybe they'd talk to him a little more once they got him back to his berth in Tidmouth. He was becoming increasingly curious about them and hoped they'd tell him a little about the country they'd come from and the sorts of engines that worked there.
The trip to pick up their new freight and take it up to the Sodor Steamworks went very well. While the two flatbeds he'd brought up were being uncoupled inside the steamworks building, his crew climbed out to introduce themselves to the fitters present and chat awhile. Shortly afterwards, his new driver came around in front of him and presented him with a welcome proposition.
"You okay with spending the next hour or so here, Henry? Some of the folks here want to take us along for lunch and show us where the good eats are."
"Oh! All…all right."
"Great!"
To add to his surprise, she then climbed back aboard to reposition him out on the transfer table and had him moved down to the furthest empty berth where she backed him fully inside the building.
"There," she said with satisfaction as she disembarked yet again. "Nice and safe and dry if it rains."
Henry, surprised anew, eyed what he could see of the sky. It had gotten rather cloudy. "It's going to rain?" he exclaimed.
"Maybe. We noticed some buildups off to the west earlier which look to be coming this way. Just showers, if it does happen. Either way, at least you'll be dry."
"Oh. Well…thank you…ma'am."
Denise grinned.
"See you later, Henry," she said, and then she was gone, leaving her loco to consider the odds as to whether it would rain or not. Actually, just the fact that she'd gone to the trouble of getting him under cover at all had kicked off a lot more contemplation on the engine's part than she could have possibly imagined; Henry was now thinking that his former crew must have told his new crew all about how he disliked rain in general and that further meant that they'd also likely talked about his once refusing to leave the rail tunnel which bore his name and all because he didn't like to get rained on. Of course there was far more to it than that, but Henry had yet to meet anyone who really understood. He sometimes thought that 'the tunnel incident', as he'd come to name it in his own mind, would follow him throughout the remainder of his existence and that even the people at the smelter's yard would know about it and remark on it just before they took up the blowtorches with which they would end his life.
Luckily, Victor and Kevin came by before Henry could get too immersed in his worrying and were able to distract him by settling in for a heavy-duty round of exchanging all the latest engine gossip. It did rain too, a heavy shower that pounded hard on the canopy roof above their heads halfway through Henry's visit, then it cleared again just before Henry's crew came back from their own social session and break. Henry was quite thoughtful as he was directed through the maneuvers to pick up his last job of the day, another flatbed this time laden with worn out parts fit only for recycling as scrap metal. It had been quite nice of his crew to want to keep him dry, and for good reason as it turned out, and they hadn't teased him about it either—they'd just made it about his comfort.
Their trip home after that, with a quick detour to drop off their flatbed, proved entirely uneventful and pleasant. The only thing that Henry didn't like about it was that his new crew began conversing between themselves in some foreign language he couldn't understand, but then he reminded himself that he ought not to be eavesdropping anyway and his dislike faded into fleeting guilt. He supposed that they'd be speaking English if he were meant to listen in or they'd just address him directly, just as Denise in particular already had.
And sure enough… They'd no sooner gotten back on the mainlines than his driver was calling to him and quizzing him about the washdowns available on the Island.
"Where's the one you like best, Henry?" she asked.
"Um, the one outside Knapford?"
His hesitant answer amused her. He clearly wasn't used to being asked to offer opinions, at least not by humans. Well, that would change… "Knapford it is," she decided. "Let us know when we're getting close, Henry!"
The washdown in question, when they chuffed up, was empty and they were able to scoot right in. The Doyons both hopped out for what seemed like the umpteenth time that day to chat with the two men manning the washdown.
"He's not really that dirty. We mainly just stopped to say hi and get used to the routine," Denise said.
"Gotcher," the washdown man manning the hose replied, grinning back a toothy grin. "Just a quick rinse and we'll save the soap. Gettin' yer bearings yet? Must seem a pretty small railway compared to whatcher used to."
"We like it so far. Lots to see, small or not."
"Yeah, that's true. Well, yer got yourselves a good engine to go sightseein'. How come y' wound up wit Henry?"
"Just good timing, really. We wrote and asked if there were any openings for engine crews just as Edward's crew put in their intention to retire."
"Ah. An' the boss wanted to keep it local for Edward. Well, I can see that. Edward's a good fellow. We've been washing him fer years, same as Henry."
They chattered on while the man who was talking kept on spritzing and the other workman scrubbed away at the sides of Henry's tender. Henry waited patiently, listening in again now that he could understand what was being said. He agreed that he hadn't done anything that had gotten him all that dirty, but if the humans wanted to clean him off anyway that was fine by him.
Later, just before they reached the Tidmouth sheds, his new driver pulled Henry to a stop one last time to top off his coal and watcr at the stores where they'd fueled up that morning before dawn, and that was it—he was finally done. As usual, Henry was the first engine to return to the roundhouse and he backed into his berth with an especial sense of relief that afternoon, his relief being all about having discovered that his new crew, though odd, were entirely competent and really quite nice as humans went after all.
Then he found out that although he was done for the day, his crew was not yet quite done with him. They did go off for a while and then came right back with a bunch of buckets, some full of utensils, others full of hot water and suds. Pierre fetched a short wooden ladder and put some of the buckets up on the downward stepped extension of Henry's running board just before his face and carried some of the others up with him when he climbed up himself and walked back towards his cab. Denise climbed up after him and started fiddling with the buckets that had been left by Henry's face. He regarded her with considerable trepidation, his eyes wide, especially after she swished a hand around in the suds bucket and began eyeing him back in a speculative way.
Denise saw at once, of course, that her engine had become all of a sudden nervous and was quick to try and find out why.
"Did your other crews wash your face by hand much, Henry?" she asked him in a pleasant, casual tone.
"Uh…sometimes," he replied, sounding rather hesitant. "When it got really dirty and they had to."
"I see. Well, Pierre and I are a little different. We like to give our engines a good grooming when we're done working just about every day, whether you guys need it or not. We just find it a nice relaxing way to finish up and Pierre's got a thing about having the shiniest engine in the shed. You good with that, Henry?"
"Oh! Um…" Now his hesitancy was turning into outright evasion. If he could have, Denise thought, the big green engine would have begun to squirm. "I'm not…sure. I'm not used to it."
"To getting your face washed?"
She regarded him with interest. He really did seem rather upset at the notion of having his face cleaned up and she had a sneaking suspicion as to why.
"Tell you what, Henry," she continued on, as sweetly as possible. "Why don't we try it my way just this once and if you don't like it, we can go back to what you're used to. That's fair, don't you think? And the decision afterwards'll be all yours."
Henry breathed hard as he considered her proposal. It did seem rather fair, and in any case, he shouldn't be trying to tell one of the humans, any human, what to do. He capitulated as soon as that latter thought crossed his mind. He'd gotten himself into a lot of trouble once long ago when he'd inadvertently defied his masters and the memory of it still smarted at times.
"Okay," Henry agreed, weakly.
His new driver swung into action. Denise was pretty small as adult humans went, and Henry had a large face. She had to use a little wooden footstool at first to get up high enough to reach the top of the junction between his facial plate and smokebox. Henry continued to breathe hard as she leaned briefly against him out of sheer necessity, inspecting the transition between pure metal and living alloy, making sure his funnel looked okay. It felt weird to have a human's body pressing on his face. He still had his safeguards up so the surface of his faux skin was nowhere near as sensitive as it could be, but he could feel her nonetheless, the same as he could feel his fireman's hands on his body way back near his cab. The man seemed to be rubbing him down and that was something Henry did like, to have the fine gloss on his paintjob brought up. He wasn't at all sure yet what the woman had planned for him, though, and thus remained tense while she finished her brief inspection and then retrieved something out of the water buckets before getting down to business.
Henry squeezed his eyes tightly shut as soon as Denise raised a hand to his forehead. He hated getting soapy water in his eyes, absolutely hated it. It hurt and made him tear up and it always took forever afterwards to blink away the sting. But he couldn't feel any water, just something pleasantly hot and soft and damp stroking over his face well above his brows. He cracked the lids of his eyes apart and watched his driver step down and dip what looked to be a washcloth and a sponge into the buckets, then she got back up on her footstool and wiped the very top of his face again, using both hands in tandem. Henry's relief was immediate and enormous. This was nothing like having his body washed, with water splashing and trickling down everywhere. She was being very careful and kind with him and not letting a single stray droplet get away from her to aggravate him. He closed his eyes again, this time with a degree of pleasure instead of apprehension. The warmth and gentle stroking was very soothing. He relaxed completely, dropping his safeguards, enjoying the sensations of having his face tended to and his paintwork being rubbed down simultaneously.
When she was done cleaning him, Denise dried his face with a towel, then gave him a final wipe down with a shammy impregnated with a little oil. Henry blinked and pursed his lips afterwards, liking how supple-feeling it had left the surface of his amorphous alloy visage.
Denise stood back as far as she could, smiling.
"Well? Shall we keep on doing that from now on, Henry?"
He looked at her gratefully. "Yes, ma'am."
Still bashful, but at least he could meet her eyes now and he'd learned to trust her touching him in about as intimate a fashion as it got with engines. It was a good bit of progress, she thought.
"All right then. We will. I'm going to help Pierre finish polishing you up now, then we'll do your running board and your cab and that should be about it, okay?"
"Okay. Thank you."
"You're very welcome, Henry."
Denise climbed down to fetch more water, then came back and joined her husband up on the big engine's long running board. They chatted together in French as they worked on so as not to embarrass their mechanical charge.
"So, he succumbed to your magic fingers, did he?" Pierre asked, grinning.
"Of course he did," Denise joshed back. "My gosh, he's shy! We've never had a really shy one, have we?"
"What do you expect? You're so intimidating."
"Oh, right. All hundred and ten pounds of me versus…what? Seventy plus tons? Silly thing."
They both chuckled. "It's cute," said Pierre. "Nice gentle fellow… He's easy for you to drive, isn't he?"
"So far."
"Probably afraid you'll beat him if he disobeys."
That earned him a playful whack on one forearm. They never tired of teasing each other.
Once done with the remainder of their cleanup, the two gathered up and stored their supplies, swung past Henry's face to wish him goodnight, then strode off across the individual tracks to get to their car. Henry watched them for as long as he could. He was feeling very good, cared for and tidy, and all his initial reservations and nervousness over acquiring a new crew had vanished entirely. Then Emily showed up.
"Oh no. Was that them?" she cried, spotting the departing car. She got herself turned around and backed into the berth next to Henry. "I missed them!"
"Heh, sorry, Emily. Next time maybe."
The dark green Stirling eyed her friend. Henry always wore his emotions on his sleeve, as the humans said, and he looked relaxed and happy. She smiled, pleased for him, and briefly went quiet while her own crew finished up with her and departed, then resumed their conversation.
"You like them, don't you?" she said.
"Yeah, I do. And I think they like me too. They got me watered and my tender filled up for tomorrow already and got me a really nice washdown, then cleaned me up some more when we got back to the shed."
"I thought you were looking kind of shiny."
"That's my new fireman. He rubbed me down and I think he put on some new polish…"
Emily listened to him chatter on, more pleased for him than ever. She'd been afraid that the stress of acquiring a new crew would kick Henry's tendency to worry into overdrive, but instead he appeared energized by the change…surprising, really. She was far more used to hearing him complain than enthuse. Yet here he was, speaking excitedly about his first full day with the important new humans in his life.
"Wow, Henry, it sounds like you're really getting along well already."
"I think so, heh, yes. They talk to me a lot more than my old crew did."
"My crew talks to me a lot too. Oh, I hope they meet soon, our crews. I bet they'd get along really well."
"I think they would too."
They sank into a companionable silence, perfectly comfortable with each other. Emily was actually Henry's favorite engine friend, even though she did tend to boss him around at times. He never minded. He knew she only did it because she cared about him and wanted the best for him, unlike Gordon, whose own bossiness was all about trying to make himself appear superior.
A rare flash of insight widened Henry's eyes for a few seconds. He didn't mind when Emily tried to tell him what to do and now here he was with a human female driver in his life whose job it was to tell him what to do and he didn't mind that either. In fact, he was already getting to kind of like it. He blinked and repressed a little snort of amusement over his own silly behavior, wondering what it said about him that he liked having females in general tell him what to do.
Percy soon showed up and backed into his berth, and shortly afterwards Thomas and Edward likewise came in and retired for the day. Edward's usual crew was still aboard. By now it had become common knowledge amongst the engines that Edward's current driver and fireman were about to retire and that Henry's former crew were the ones who'd be taking over the old K2. According to Edward, the two men would work with him for only another week or so while Henry's former driver and fireman were on holidays, then they'd come back and take over and Edward's two old human friends could finally retire. Henry wondered what that would be like, for humans to retire. Not like an engine's being retired to static display, surely, but there might be some shared frustrations…
Gordon and James were the last two engines to come in that evening, and whereas James was in a jovial, chatty mood, Gordon was in far too much of a snit to greet anyone. Rumour was that he'd been badly delayed early on by a stubborn herd of cows on the track and that his morning express run had arrived late enough in Vicarstown to generate numerous complaints. Not that it had in any way been Gordon's fault, but he'd still taken it personally. He even aimed a nasty glare at Henry and then Edward as he backed in, which made Henry sigh. Gordon always took forever to get over any slights, no matter whether they were real or just imagined.
"Still with us and undamaged, I see," Gordon remarked as soon as his crew was gone, looking Henry over and scowling. "I half expected to hear that you'd derailed."
"Why?" Emily spoke up sharply. "Because you don't think a woman can drive well?"
"No. Because I think his new crew is speed-obsessed," he countered. "They'll get Henry into trouble, mark my words."
"Huh! You're one to talk, ol' fastest and best," said James, and he and Gordon squabbled on for a while after that as only James and Gordon could squabble. Henry just listened. He was somewhat relieved that Gordon had chosen to redirect his ire more at his new crew than himself and even more so relieved that they weren't around to hear themselves being bad-mouthed. But then Gordon was almost always careful and polite when it came to interacting with humans…Henry did have to give him credit for that. He might not be the friendliest engine, but he did normally make an effort to comport himself well when around them.
Henry went to sleep later on still feeling very good about the way his day had gone and how his relationship with his new crew was shaping up. In the end, that was really the only opinion that mattered, what Henry himself thought of the new people in his cab, and at the moment, his thoughts were still all positive.
to be continued...