[Don't mind me. I'm just a line bump]

Tenders and Turntables

Written by the Reverend W. Awdry and Broa Island

Isle of Sodor: 1934

The big stations at both ends of the line (Tidmouth to the west and Vicarstown to the east) each have a turntable. The Fat Director had them installed so that the tender engines – Edward, Henry, Gordon, James, Ruby, Yang, and the Red Engines – could be turned around, as it is dangerous for them to go fast backwards. Tank engines like Thomas don't need turntables, they can go just as well backwards as forwards. But if you were to hear Gordon talk a while ago, you'd think that Sir Nigel Gresley had given him and his siblings tenders just to show how important they were.

One morning, shortly after Henry's run in with an escaped circus elephant, Gordon brought the express to the junction where he met Thomas. Despite considering himself superior to tank engines, Gordon respected Thomas, viewing the E2 as an equal, as both engines hardly tolerated any nonsense dealt their way.

"So how's main line life been doing?" asked Thomas in the middle of their conversation.

Gordon's face fell. "To be honest, it's been utterly dreadful," he said. "Life's just been so difficult without Colin to keep the yards in check, or Preston's laid-back sense of humour. Hell, I even miss Emily and Yang's constant bickering." Thomas' looked downcast, the change in expression caught Gordon off guard but he understood why. "I'm… I'm sorry about Emily… Thomas…"

Emily was a GNR G3 Stirling Single who had pulled the express before Gordon arrived on Sodor. But the NWR's Board of directors in 1932 were human supremacists who hated all sentient machines. They disposed of the NWR's entire fleet of tank engines (except for Thomas, Kate, Neil, and Glynn), and sold Emily to a railway in Japan behind the Fat Director's back. Thankfully, those evil men have since been kicked off the island, but the damage had already been done. Thomas had been close to Emily and was devastated when he learned of her fate.

"No, it's alright Gordon," the tank engine said sadly, "I'm just worried for her safety. Japan isn't really a happy place right now, is it?"

"Indeed Thomas," replied Gordon, "And do believe me, I miss our fallen friends dearly, but with no station pilot at either Knapford or Vicarstown, we have to shunt our own coaches! We tender engines have a position to keep up. It doesn't matter where tank engines like you go, but we are important. And for the Fat Director to make us shunt trucks, fetch coaches, and go on some of those dirty sidings, it's- it's- well it's not the proper thing!"

Thomas just rolled his eyes, Gordon's vanity-driven rant had cheered him up a little. Soon the guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag, and with that, Thomas and Gordon exchanged farewells and the former pulled out of the station.

Later that day, Gordon pulled into Vicarstown Station with the express. Once the passengers had disembarked, he took the empty coaches to the yard and placed them in the coach shed. He hated shunting, not only because of his vanity, but also because he just wasn't designed for the job. Gordon's axles felt as if they were going to snap in half as his driving wheels clattered over the tight curves and points of the Vicarstown yard.

Finally, the job was done, "About ruddy time!" grunted Gordon as he retraced his miles to find the roundhouse.

He clanked over the turntable and backed down into one of the Vicarstown's sheds' five berths. The express' return trip back to Knapford wouldn't be until that evening, so Gordon decided to use the time between now and then to rest, which he did, and eventually fell into slumber.

"Wake up Gordon," said his driver a few hours later, "we've got to leave in two hours!"

Gordon's eyes snapped open, "TWO HOURS!" he spluttered, "HOW LONG WAS I ASLEEP?!" The now orange sky didn't really answer his question, but it gave Gordon a pretty good idea what time it was.

Gordon was rather grumpy for being awoken so rudely, but after his driver and fireman explained that a visiting Jinty had arranged his coaches for him, his mood quickly changed. But it wouldn't last.

"Good God," muttered Gordon as he edged onto the turntable, "where did this wind come from?"

A small but strong windstorm had blown in from the Cumbrian Sea, it whistled through the chimneys of the town and battered against the branches of the trees. The turntable was in the middle of the wind's path, and if Gordon wasn't on it just right, he'd put it out of balance. Unfortunately, Gordon was still rather drowsy from his nap and wasn't paying attention to what he was doing. The fireman tried to turn the handle, but Gordon's weight, the turntable's thrown off balance, and the strong wind prevented him.

After twenty minutes, they gave up. "It's no good," said Gordon's fireman, "you're tender upsets the balance. If you were a nice tank engine, this wouldn't be a problem."

Gordon was insulted, but before he could speak up, his driver said, "I guess this means we'll be taking the next train backwards, then."

Gordon was silent for a moment… "Say what now?"

"Look!" called some boys. "They've got a new tank engine! Oh… never mind, it's only Gordon back to front."

A few hours later, Gordon pulled into Wellsworth Station… tender first. As neither him nor his crew could see where they were going, the GNR A1 had to go at a third of his usual speed. Because of this, the express was very late indeed, and the passengers were growing restless. Once the train stopped at the platform, they leaned their heads out of the coaches' windows and told Gordon, his crew, and the station staff what a bad railway this was.

"Oh…" groaned Gordon. "How can this day get any worse?"

Just then, James raced by with a goods train. He laughed and laughed when he saw Gordon.

However, Gordon was concerned, "You'll be using the turntable at Tidmouth later, won't you?" he asked James. "If that's the case, then take care. This wind isn't leaving anytime soon, you might stick too."

"No fear," chuckled James as he pulled out of the station, "I'm not as fat as you!" But secretly, he heeded Gordon's warning.

Night had fallen over Tidmouth Sheds by the time James returned. The wind was still blowing fiercely, with no signs of slowing down.

I mustn't stick, thought James as he edged onto the turntable. Luckily, the red engine was focused on his movements, stopping on just the right place to balance the table. It could now swing easily.

James' fireman turned the handle and James turned… much too easily. The wind puffed him round and round like a top! The fireman tried to regain control of the table, but the wind had completely hijacked it! James spun faster and faster; he couldn't stop!

Gordon, who'd been turned onto the loop line, arrived and saw everything. "Well, well," he laughed, "playing roundabouts, are we James?"

James' response was drowned out by the wind, the groans of the turntable, and his own disorientated shouts. At last, the wind died down and James came to a stop. With the assistance of his driver, he backed down into the sheds, feeling very, very, giddy.

When the other engines returned to Tidmouth that night, Gordon told them all about it and all they would talk of were roundabouts and tops. James tried to fight back against the teasing, but everything he tried seemed to only give the engines more ammo to use against him. Defeated, James tried to ignore them, and went wearily to sleep.

The next night, however, the atmosphere in the sheds had changed. Gordon, Henry, and James were the only engines present, and the three decided to use this newfound privacy to hold an indignation meeting.

Gordon did most of the talking though. "It's shameful to treat tender engines like this, it really is! Henry gets drenched by elephants! I have to go backwards, and everyone thinks I'm a tank engine! James spins around like a top and everyone laughs at us! And added to all that, the Fat Director makes us shunt in dirty sidings!

"Yuck!" they all said in unison.

"Listen," said Gordon, and he whispered something to the others. James and Henry were rather uncomfortable with what Gordon was proposing, but they knew it was the only way to make their voices heard.

"We'll do it," said Henry, "but as soon as this gets out of hand, I want out."

"Right," said Gordon…

"We'll do it tomorrow."