A large green tender engine with a 4-6-2 wheel arrangement stood outside the shed. The Fat Director stepped out of his cab. It was the early hours of the first of April, 1923.
"Engines," he said, "this here is Gordon, our new express engine. He was built by Sir Nigel Gresley as the A0, the prototype for his A1."
"And the best prototype there is," Gordon cut in proudly. "I've pulled many express trains and broken many speed records. It's my honour to bring such prestige to this railway."
"Yes yes, of course," said the Fat Director. "Now make yourself comfortable: been a long journey and I assume you'd like to rest. As for me, I have business to attend to." And with that, the Fat Director walked away. Gordon turned on the turntable and backed down in between Emily and Edward.
"Never thought I'd see one of my predecessors still in service," Gordon said to Emily. "You must feel such honour to meet your successor." Emily didn't know what to make of this remark!
"What exactly do you mean by successor?" she asked suspiciously.
"Why, isn't it obvious? I'm newer, bigger, and more modern than you. I can go up to 90 miles per hour, while you're stuck at 85."
"Being modern doesn't mean…"
"And," Gordon interrupted, ignoring Emily, "I have water scoops inside my tender to pick up water from troughs, meaning I've no need to stop at a water tower to fill up."
"I didn't know the LNER engines lived like pigs!" said Thomas cheekily.
"Don't be absurd, little blue bug!" Gordon snapped.
"The name's Thomas, fat face!" Thomas snapped back.
"Well somebody woke up on the wrong side of the shed today," said Gordon. "Not that I'm surprised: bustling around the yards all day would tire anybody out."
"Alright, that's enough," Edward said, tired of all the arguing. "Welcome, Gordon, to the North Western Railway. My name's Edward."
"Seeing that you're a K2, I guess you come from the LMS?"
"Uh…no. Furness Railway. I was sold before the grouping, you see."
"I see indeed…I fancy you used to be a great express engine during your younger days, and I respect that. I assure you all that the fast trains of this railway are in excellent hands."
"Well" said someone else, "as long as you brought some of those fancy teak wood LNER coaches, we won't have a problem. Always wanted to shunt those."
Gordon tried looking for the engine who said that, but could find nobody.
"Who said that?"
"Over here!" Gordon turned his eyes, and saw a boy polishing the whistle of another engine. "Name's Conan."
"Well, my dear boy, to answer your question, I have brought a number of teak coaches with me. As long as your director continues doing business with the LNER, you can expect a constant stream of those."
"Well, we're clearly going to do more business with the Big Four," answered Conan. "There's nobody else to do business with."
"Do you wish to know why it would be beneficial for your railway to become a part of the LNER?"
"No thanks, every engine we've gotten from the big four tells us exactly the same thing," snorted Selena.
"Can you blame me for promoting my company?"
"No…but, it's time we leave, Thomas. The workmen's train departs soon."
Thomas thus departed the sheds, leaving Gordon with the others.
Olive had not been there at the time: she had been out with a midnight express train and was returning home after her long journey. Looking forward to a well-earned rest, she was most surprised to find another engine she had never seen before sitting in where she liked to sleep. Olive blew her whistle.
"What do you think you're doing sitting in my berth?" she asked. Gordon turned to her.
"What's a Great Western engine doing on these parts?" he asked.
"The name's Olive," the City-class replied. "Top-link express engine for this railway."
"Certainly not top-link anymore," Gordon said. "Especially since I'm here now. And I don't see your name anywhere on this berth, so who says it's yours?"
"I sleep there every night!" Olive snapped. "So move aside!"
"You're beginning to sound like Lily," said Emily.
"Who's Lily?"
"An engine who usually works express trains, Gordon," Emily answered. "She's currently at Horwich undergoing repairs after being sabotaged."
"Certainly not!" Gordon gasped. "Nobody would dare sabotage great express engines! Especially not one as grand as me."
"Well it did happen!" Olive cut in. "Listen here, Gordon: you may think you're great, but you've yet to prove it."
"I doubt I'd need to prove anything," Gordon boasted. "I'm already the best there is, Sir Nigel Gresley says so. And compared to the rest of you, I'd say that holds weight. Now run along, little Ollie, I need to rest before my first express run on this island: your director said so himself. Important engines like me can't be kept up all the time."
"We'll see just how important you are," Olive said darkly. She reversed away to find a siding to sleep in.
"Was it necessary to kick Olive out?" Edward asked Gordon.
"Kicked her out? Don't be so daft, little Edward! There are plenty of other berths, she could've chosen to sleep in one of those instead of running off."
Edward couldn't deny Gordon had a point!
Sooner than later, morning dawned. And Gordon went to platform 1 at Vicarstown. Expecting to find a train already arranged for him, instead he found…nothing.
"What's the meaning of this? Where's that tank engine?!"
"Thomas is still out with the works train," answered the stationmaster. "As for the shunters we got from the Metropolitan Railway, a points failure has stranded the 3 of them. You'll have to fetch your own train."
"Me?! Shunt?! You must be kidding!" Gordon shouted. "I'm way too important for shunting!"
"Yet I'm not," said Olive, pulling a train of Teaks tender-first.
"What kind of 'top-link' engine pulls her train backwards?!"
"One who isn't too fat to do things by herself," Olive replied with a smirk. "Besides, these are GNR teak coaches. Means there should be no problem, right? Have fun!"
Olive steamed off before Gordon could reply.
"She's certainly in denial," Gordon said. "Can't see why she'd be shunting otherwise."
"Oh yeah, that's right: Olive volunteered to shunt for the tank engines," the stationmaster said. "Must've been a really busy morning if I forgot that!"
"Definitely in denial then," Gordon said with a smirk. "Tender engines certainly don't shunt."
At that moment, Thomas returned with his works train.
"And where have you been, little Thomas?" Gordon asked.
"Signal installation isn't exactly an easy task," Thomas responded, feeling annoyed. "No railway can run without signals you know."
"We express engines don't need signals," Gordon responded. "I go so fast, all trains have to stop for me!"
"Maybe that's because they think you're blind," Thomas replied. Gordon was furious.
"How dare you call me blind!"
"You called him a bug earlier," Conan reminded. "How is calling you blind any worse?"
"Well think about it: if I was blind, how would I know that Olive was a Western engine? Can you answer that?"
"Lucky guess," snarked Thomas.
"Ah, I see you have your wits about you," said Gordon. "Well know this, Little Thomas: wits can only get you so far. On a railway, speed and strength matter more."
"At least I'm not too lazy to back down onto my own train," said Thomas. "Your coaches are still waiting for you. Now if you'll excuse me, I need to get back to shunting. Later!"
The E2 steamed off before Gordon could reply.
Gordon didn't know that the coaches Olive brought him were faulty: overdue maintenance had caused their brakes to develop a tendency to slip on at random times. Whether Olive herself knew, nobody knows for sure. Though some suspect she did, there is no way to prove that. Unconcerned, Gordon backed down onto the train and was coupled on.
"Get in quickly please!" he whistled. The passengers did, and Gordon simmered, waiting for the guard to blow his whistle.
Soon, the signal changed to green, and the guard blew his whistle. Gordon began to pull his train, when suddenly, his wheels slipped!
"What's going on?! I've never had trouble pulling coaches before!"
"I suspect there's a problem with the brakes on the coach," said his driver. He shut off steam and applied the brakes, then he and the fireman stepped out to examine the coaches. "Just as I thought," the driver said. "The brakes on the coaches somehow slipped on."
"Something tells me Olive had something to do with this," Gordon said to himself.
"We'll worry about that later," said the fireman. "Right now, we need to release these brakes and get moving."
And that's exactly what they did. Gordon steamed off once more, determined to make up for any time he had lost.
"Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!" he called, as he passed through Henry's Tunnel. He noticed the engine bricked up inside, and had a laugh.
"Hullo!" he whistled. "I see somebody likes to play hide and seek!" He was gone before Henry could reply. Henry just sighed.
Gordon soon arrived at Crovans Gate, where Skarloey was waiting with a passenger train.
"Hello there!" Skarloey called. "You must be new here." Gordon took a look at the narrow gauge engine.
"Never thought I'd see an engine so small," said Gordon.
"Size isn't everything, you know," Skarloey said knowingly.
"I fail to see how," replied Gordon. "Bigger engines like me pull bigger trains than those of smaller engines."
"That may be true," said Skarloey, "but can you say for certainty you could travel on my rails?"
"I have no need for that, mine are certainly enough."
"If you say so."
"I do say so, as does Sir Nigel Gresley," Gordon replied. "After all, he made me the best I could be."
"Best or not, Gordon," warned Skarloey, "nobody's perfect."
"Well, I'm not nobody, I'm me. I'll admit, I had some problems when I first entered service, but the men at Doncaster Works fixed all those, then put the A1s into service. Now I've come to this island to show how great I am!"
At that moment, Gordon's guard blew his whistle. The A0 puffed off, whistling proudly.
"Goodbye, Skarloey!" he called. "Look out for me this afternoon!"
Skarloey watched Gordon depart, giving a little chuckle.
"He'll learn," he said, to nobody in particular. "The youngsters always do."
Gordon couldn't help mulling over Skarloey's words as he steamed along the line.
"What does that engine know?" he asked. "He's only a little narrow gauge engine. A grand, fast engine like me already knows everything."
"Nobody knows everything," his driver said. "Especially not on their first day of a job."
"I'm not nobody, I'm me," snorted Gordon. "The fastest and best."
"You wouldn't be saying that if you met an engine who could go faster than you," his driver said.
"Nonsense! There'll never be an engine who can outperform me," Gordon boasted. "I'm the newest in modern technology."
"Just you wait," warned the driver.
"I can't wait: I have an express train to pull!"
As they argued, the fireman began to suspect something was wrong: he swore he could hear something squealing behind the tender, but couldn't quite make it out.
"Will you please stop arguing with Gordon?" he asked the driver. "I swear there's an odd sound coming from behind the tender."
The driver did so and listened: he could hear some sort of squealing sound.
"You're right: I hear it too," he said, and he stopped the train.
"What's going on?" Gordon asked. "We were just about to pick up speed!"
"There's some kind of squeal coming from the coaches," the driver explained. "We're going to take a look."
The crew got out of the cab and inspected each coach. Before long, they found the problem.
"Well that explains it," said the driver. "All the coaches on these brakes have slipped on!"
"No doubt that Westerner is behind this," Gordon muttered to himself.
"We'll worry about that later," said the driver. "Right now, we need to get new coaches: these have flat tyres as a result of all that moving they were doing with their brakes hard on."
The driver informed the guard, who explained the situation to the passengers, while the fireman ran down the line to the previous signal box, dropping detonators as he did so. Gordon could do nothing but wait.
Eventually, Emily arrived with a rake of first class Midland Clerestory coaches with gangways.
"So this is what you call succeeding me, huh? Setting off with coaches that have faulty brakes?"
Gordon didn't say anything.
"Nevermind," Emily said sympathetically. "Your passengers will be riding in these coaches for the rest of the journey. I've been ordered to take these teaks back to Vicarstown for repairs."
Gordon didn't really want to give up his teaks, but he didn't have a choice: his passengers needed to get to their destination. The two engines swapped their trains and when the last passenger had boarded the new rake of coaches, Gordon set off once more, determined to make up for lost time.
The rest of the run went without a hitch, though Gordon wasn't focused on that: he was contemplating what he'd say to Olive when he next saw her, even as he pulled into Tidmouth.
Two hours after departing, Gordon returned to Vicarstown.
"Where's Olive?!" he demanded.
"She's out with a goods train," said Selena. "She'll be back later. Why? What's wrong?"
"I don't see why it's any of your concern," Gordon snorted.
"What did I do to you to justify you being so rude?"
"Like you'd know," Gordon said. "You've never even touched an express coach."
"Actually, I have," said Selena, wincing. "It didn't go well."
"Of course not: you're a goods engine. Pulling express coaches never goes well for goods engines."
Gordon steamed off. Selena just rolled her eyes: Gordon didn't need to know about the time she got obsessed over her appearance.
Gordon backed down into the shed, where Edward was waiting.
"Everything alright, Gordon?" Edward asked.
"It will be when that Western City returns," Gordon scoffed. "She damaged the brakes on my coaches to sabotage me!"
"That doesn't sound like Olive," said Edward. "She does have a temper on her, but she'd never sabotage anybody!"
"Didn't you hear her earlier? She said, and I quote, "We'll see just how important you are." I'm telling you, little Edward: she's the reason my beautiful teak coaches got flat tyres!"
"Has it ever occurred to you the brakes may have been damaged even before Olive collects them?" Edward asked.
"That's impossible: my teaks are in fine, sturdy form. Never would they allow themselves to succumb to damage without interference!"
"Nothing is immune to getting damaged," Edward said simply. "Even you: all of us need overhauls at some point."
"Pah! Of course you'd say that," snorted Gordon. "You're stuck in this shed, overlooked by the crews. You have no more use, understand?"
"Couldn't have put it better myself," said 87546, as he backed down next to Gordon. "You're much too old to be useful now, old iron. Engines like us are what crews prefer."
"A K1?! Why, I didn't expect to see one of your kind here!"
"Neither did I expect a fellow Great Northern engine to be joining me," 87546 said with a grin. "Feels great to not be the only GNR engine here."
"I concur, my Gresley-designed friend," Gordon said. "Now I don't feel like that much of an outsider."
"And what about Emily?" Edward pointed out. "She's a GNR engine too."
"My dear Edward," said Gordon, "Emily was withdrawn before the LNER was formed. Her kind is of no use to modern railways."
"You could say the same about Henry," said 87546. "After all, he isn't even a real engine."
"Who," asked Gordon, "is Henry?"
"You saw a green engine bricked up in Ballahoo Tunnel before you entered it, right?" Edward asked. "That, Gordon, is Henry. He's bricked up inside as punishment for refusing to come out with a Wedding Train during a rainstorm."
"Serves him right," Gordon huffed.
"There's a rumour about that," added 87546. "That he decided to sabotage the railway by staying there."
"And what would Henry have to gain from sabotaging us?" Edward pointed out.
"Don't ask me. All I know is he was angry at being built wrong," 87546 jeered.
"Precisely!" thundered Gordon. "The same anger that caused Olive to sabotage my teaks."
"I'm so getting tired of this," Edward huffed. "What proof do you have that Olive sabotaged your teaks anyway, Gordon?"
"She's the one who took them to the station," Gordon pointed out. "Surely she did something!"
"Like I said, it could be a coincidence," Edward argued.
"Too much of a coincidence," snorted Gordon.
"Well somebody's feeling lazy today," said Thomas, who had come to the sheds for a drink of water.
"And what's that supposed to mean?!" Gordon asked furiously.
"If you really wanted to confront Olive," said Thomas cheekily, "you'd be out on the mainline trying to find her. Instead, you're just sitting around the sheds doing nothing but wait for her. Rather lazy if you ask me."
"Now look here, runt!" Gordon shouted. "Pulling the express is hard work! It takes a lot of energy, more than any other job."
"Rubbish!" snorted Thomas. "I work harder than any of you! Without me, you wouldn't have any time to rest before your next train!"
"Like you would know," Gordon huffed. "You didn't even shunt my coaches this morning. You don't work hard at all."
"And you're not working at all," Thomas retorted. "Staying in that shed, complaining about Olive. Take my advice: get out of the sheds and work hard like me." At that moment, Thomas' tanks were full. The E2 left to continue his shunting before Gordon could reply.
"Wretched tank engine! And why is that runt of a kid always around him?" Gordon asked. "Is he related to your director or something?"
"His name is Conan," said Edward, "and he's 23-years old. He and Thomas have some special connection."
"Oh, like that? That tank engine is his adoptive father?" Gordon asked, mockingly.
"It's more complicated than that," Edward said. "They're, uh, bonded in a special way."
"Pah! I don't see how!"
"Like I said, Gordon, it's complicated."
"Of course you'd say that, old man," snorted Gordon. "Everything's complicated for you."
"Not everything," said Edward, infuriated. "Do you think you can understand?"
"All I understand is that you're a clapped out piece-of-work stuck here as a result of being too old and out-of date. The driver won't choose you again: he wants big, strong engines like us."
Edward, who hadn't been out in a long time, began to feel sad.
"You fucking asshole!" screamed two other voices.
"A Caledonian? What are you doing here?"
"I live here, stupid," 98462 replied. "And you got some nerve insulting Edward: he's worked harder than you ever have."
"Well he's not working hard now," Gordon said pointedly. "He's stuck in his berth collecting cobwebs and dust."
"Maybe he'll be let out again soon! Who knows?" countered 98462.
"Bah! He'll be a pile of scrap before that happens," Gordon insisted.
"Trust me, Max," snickered 87546, "this engine knows what he's talking about."
"It's 98462, not Max," the Caledonian 55 responded. "You do well to remember that yourself, 87546: we don't have names anymore, haven't for years."
"And why should I listen to what Fat Hatt says?" 87546 asked.
"Because the last time you didn't, we got in big trouble," snorted 98462.
"What kind of trouble?" asked Gordon.
"Nothing too concerning," said 87546.
"Pretending to be ill is very concerning," insisted 98462.
"It got me out of pulling rubbish trains, didn't it? You hated those too, you know."
"I don't blame you," said Gordon. "Everybody hates rubbish trains: you'll never see me pulling dirty, smelly goods."
"Yep, just like Lily."
It was at that moment, Olive finally returned.
"Gee, you guys really know how to be loud," she remarked.
"About time you returned," Gordon said. "I've a bone to pick with you."
"What about?" Olive asked.
"Like you don't know!" Gordon snorted. "You damaged the brakes on my beautiful teak coaches!"
"I did?! Oh dear, I'm sorry, I didn't know!"
"The hell you didn't! This was deliberate sabotage!"
Olive was now furious.
"Sabotage?! Why would I sabotage you?! Yes, you're more modern, but sabotaging coaches would ruin everybody, not just you!"
"Pah! You likely want my position for yourself, don't you?! I know you feel threatened by me!" Gordon snapped.
"Just because I feel threatened doesn't mean I want to take down the whole railway with you!" Olive snapped back.
"You can't fool me," Gordon said. "I see right through you."
"And what's inside me, huh?"
"A spiteful, vindictive bitch," Gordon answered.
"Bitch?!" Olive shrieked. "You got some nerve calling me that!"
"Do I? How else can I refer to an engine who deliberately sabotages her betters?" Gordon asked accusingly. "Also, how many hearts have you broken? I am sorry for all those engines you likely left alone, after tricking them into believing you loved them back"
"I'll break your boiler if you don't knock it off!" Olive threatened.
"NOBODY'S BREAKING ANYTHING!" shouted a familiar voice. It was, of course, the Fat Director. "Gordon, Olive only brought your coaches out of the goodness of her heart. I was there at the works: their brakes were acting faulty even before she buffered up to them. Therefore, Olive is NOT responsible for the coaches acting up. It was all bad timing."
"Also…err…those weren't your teaks," said 87546. "I think I figured everything out…"
"So, you swapped out my teaks for older, Great Northern teaks," Gordon growled.
"How was I to know those weren't your teaks?!" Olive snapped.
"Did you not see "LNER" written on their sides?! OF course you did: it's that obvious!"
"SILENCE!"
The engines fell silent upon hearing the Fat Director shout that.
"Your teaks, Gordon, are in the workshops undergoing inspection."
"Thank you, sir," said Gordon. "Will they be ready tomorrow?"
"Indeed they will," said the Fat Director. "Now know this: all my engines are equal. Yes, it's true some are bigger and stronger than others, but on my railway, nobody gets replaced. If you want to stay here, Gordon, you'll need to learn to understand that."
"Yes sir, of course sir," said Gordon.
"Good. I don't expect you and Olive to become friends right away, but I do expect you to put this quarrel behind you."
And with that, the Fat Director walked away.
"I owe you an apology."
Olive, however, was too deep in thought to hear Gordon: she sure was capable of achieving a 100 miles per hour, right?
"If City of Truro could do it, I can too," she said to herself.
It was only early afternoon, but she had a plan: as soon as she got another turn on the express, she would reach that speed. Then she'd show Gordon that she wasn't out-of-date: she was still a top-of-the-line express engine.