My great-grandfather had stern words with our Number 3 once he was shunted into his siding under the tent. "I know that the Sudderians can be rather, er, difficult at times," he said. "But pushing another engine past a danger sign is never okay. I shall have to arrange for William to double-head your train with Edward. I am not impressed with your behaviour today, Henry."
"Yes, Sir," Henry replied. "What I did was foolish."
"I can see that you're remorseful," Sir James said kindly. "However, we are already short on locomotives, and now that you're shunted, there's only Glynn, Edward and Sir William, the latter of whom does not technically belong to us anyhow."
Henry stared at his buffers.
"I don't know where I'm going to find another engine in times such as these," Sir Hatt continued. "Dear, oh dear, what am I going to do…" Henry was left alone as he watched the stout director walk away, mumbling to himself.
Henry was left on the siding, legally unable to move, for fifteen days. He was impressed with the effort made by the two railways in constructing the new station during that time, but at the same time had the opportunity to think about his actions that day at Brendam Docks. "Sir," he said on the day of his release. "I'd like to go to Suddery works to speak with Adam about what happened."
"Very well, Henry," my great-grandfather replied. "I shall have to talk it over with Sir William, but…"
"No need," whistled the ROD tank engine. "Henry, I can see that you are sorry for your actions, so I shall agree to let you leave a few hours early."
I can only imagine how terrified Henry was as he steamed towards Suddery Works.
"It's okay to be nervous, old fellow," encouraged his driver. "Take your time."
With this, our Number 3 boldly entered the workshed. Adam stood on a siding, supported by wooden blocks, his driving wheels and coupling rods removed. Henry could still make out the line of silt running down the Class 415's side. "Adam…" he wheeshed nervously.
"What do you want, Gilmore?" Adam asked cautiously.
"I just came to apologise for what happened at Brendam a couple of weeks ago. I let my emotions get the better of me, and they manifested into a reckless action that could have killed you. It was foolish of me to push you past a danger sign and mock you for being a coward. I'm sorry."
"No, Henry," replied Adam. "I'm the one that should apologise. You know us companies and our rivalries: we're always at each other's couplings. But teasing you about a station being blown up and multiple casualties outside of your control? That was uncalled for. I deserved to be thrown into the sea for that."
"Nonsense," laughed the apple-green experiment. "No engine deserves something like that."
"Maybe not," Adam smiled back. "But it definitely taught me my lesson."
"Sorry to interrupt this little back-and-forth, chaps," said a mechanic. "But I've just received word from Brendam Docks. Adam, your new wheels just arrived."
"Excellent!" whistled Henry. "I'll go fetch them."
"Are you sure?" Adam asked.
"Consider it a white flag," the Pacific replied.
"In that case, if you wouldn't mind, Henry," remarked Adam cheekily. "I'd rather the Germans got them for me!" And the two new friends burst into laughter.
Later that day, Henry approached Brendam Docks. The site of the accident that had transpired fifteen days earlier had been blocked off with barriers. As he scanned the pier, Henry spotted a new set of black wheels on a nearby flatbed. There they are, he thought.
"What brings you here, Mr. Gilmore?" asked the dock manager.
"I'm here to pick up Adam's new wheels," our Number three replied.
"Right you are then," said the manager. "They're just over…"
Four short blasts from a high-pitched steam whistle pierced the air.
"That's Lily," said the manager, surprised.
"Aye, and it was an emergency whistle," Henry mused
The W&S Number 2 was running bunker-first with a load of timber, charging down Henry's line at well above the safe speed. "Help!" she shouted. "My brakes have failed!"
Henry's eyes narrowed as he reversed back out of the docks, his eyes judging the distance between himself and the barrier. He stopped several yards back.
"Henry, what are you doing?" asked his driver with a hint of terror.
"Jump out, Clive," was the reply. "You too, John."
Henry's driver and fireman did as instructed, then Henry blew a special signal on his whistle.
Lily recognised the signal and braced for impact. As soon as her buffers collided with Henry's, our Number 3 applied full brake. Sparks flew as his wheels ground the rails. With a CRASH, the brave giant smashed through the barrier, finally coming to a stop with his front dolly wheels hanging off the edge.
"Henry?" Lily gasped in surprise. "Why did you do that?"
Henry was still catching his breath. "I'm not going to let what happened to Adam happen to someone else – anyone else – while I'm in a position to prevent it." With that, our heroic Number 3 shunted himself and Lily's train back to safety.
"Well done, Henry!" applauded the manager.
"Hear, hear!" agreed Will, who was shunting nearby. "Well done indeed, Henry! Your controller will be very pleased when he hears about this!"
And he was. "I can see now that you are truly sorry for your actions last fortnight," my great-grandfather said. "Therefore, I think you've earned a new coat of paint."
A week later, Henry puffed proudly out of Elsbridge Works. His apple-green GNR paintwork had been replaced with bright green with red stripes, a livery he proudly wears to this day.