About three weeks had passed since Molly had her alarming accident with her wheel coming right off, to which Daisy sniffed and considered it most distasteful, much to Molly's shame and embarrassment. Fortunately, James was able to help his beloved wife the rest of the way, then spent a much-needed night with her in the new sheds at Kirk Ronan, after which Daisy had a slip-up of her own when escorting a group of fashion designers to Vicarstown. Molly was very proud to help them the rest of the way and so she and Daisy found common ground with each other again.
But over these past three weeks, for two other engines, there was a very different matter at hand. If you are a frequent visitor of the Little Western, then you would be well aware of a certain duck who lives near Tidmouth Hault. The duck's name is Dilly, or as she's more commonly known, Donald's Duck, though Donald affectionately calls her "my sweet quackeroo." It all started many years ago, when Duck was given his own branch line and talked endlessly about the responsibility, to which Donald grew tired of hearing it and said Duck quacked as if he'd laid an egg. Indignant with the comment, Duck and his crew devised a plan to get back at Donald, so when the No. 9 Engine went to fill on water the next day, a duckling popped out of his water tank. Perfectly friendly and tame, she shared the fireman's sandwiches and rode in Donald's tender. The other engines teased Donald about her for a time, but Dilly stayed right with Donald until she grew tired of travelling and hopped off at Tidmouth Hault Station, and there she stayed from then on, always happy to see Donald whenever he came along.
Ever since she was just a wee little duckling, Dilly had been of great support to the Little Western, having become very popular with the engines and passengers, as well as helping the porters to inspect and properly load all the parcels and luggage onto the trains. Gordon had once thought Dilly below his dignity, but then changed his tune when a little ginger and white cat his crew called Tabitha stowed away in his tender, and had been keeping Tidmouth Sheds free of mice ever since the day Rebecca became a runaway engine and broke through Emily's berth doors. Like Dilly, the engines quickly grew very fond of Tabitha and were always happy whenever they found her performing her routine patrols of the shed, especially Gordon, who is still Tabitha's favourite. Several on Sodor even suspected that should Tabitha have kittens of her own, she'd end up teaching them how to protect the sheds from vermin just as she does.
In recent years that had passed, Dilly had found a mate, who everyone called Devon, and it was all thanks to Emily that everyone discovered that Dilly had given birth to four ducklings, back when Emily went to work with Donald whilst Douglas was away for repairs. Dilly's hatchlings had since grown up into mature, healthy ducks, and they were all well-named. There were two boys named Bazil and Todd, and two girls named Anneka and Emily, the latter naturally being named after the Emerald Angel herself on account of Emily finding Dilly and her ducklings. Much like how their mother was known as Donald's Duck, the four children are collectively known as Donald's Ducklings, and just like their mother, though they were all fond of each Little Western engine, they loved Donald the most, especially when he'd give them rides on his tender. Since then, Dilly and Devon had taught their children to help the Little Western's staff just as Dilly had done for many years.
But here and now, as of the past three weeks, matters on the Little Western were very different, and inescapably poignant. For Dilly, the time was at long last drawing near. As with all pets, Dilly's age had been catching up with her at long last. Depending on the breed, ducks could live anywhere from five to ten years for the average lifespan, but some could live up to twenty years if properly cared for. Dilly had been well looked after ever since she first joined the Little Western, and as such, she had lived a long life; much longer than the average duck's lifespan. But as with all living things, time had gradually taken its toll on her, and sure enough, Dilly slowly began to decline…
At first, it didn't seem like much. In the few days that passed since Molly and Daisy's accidents, Donald and Douglas gradually noticed that Dilly was becoming quieter, and she seemed to walk slower than they usually recalled. It seemed to them as if she were taking things carefully, and much more gently than usual.
"She…she seems a little slow, Donnie. Wouldn't you say?" Douglas noted.
"Aye, Douggie…she…she does," said Donald. "Looks like she isn't too full of energy. I…I hope she's doing alright."
"I think so, Donnie," said Douglas. "Perhaps she's only resting herself a little."
Donald nodded as he kept his eye on Dilly, though he wasn't really sure if that was the case. In the following days, Donald and Douglas carried on about their routine…yet whenever they saw Dilly at Tidmouth Hault, she maintained her slow movement and quiet behaviour, only quacking once or twice to say hello to them. Furthermore, the Twins felt as though she were moving slower and more carefully with every visit. These thoughts occupied their minds now and again as they hoped that perhaps Dilly would be looking more chipper again. But with all pets in anyone's lives, in the end, it would eventually be time to face the inevitable.
Then sure enough, after about a week had gone by, the dice was cast, and reality struck. One evening, Donald and Douglas stormed back to Tidmouth Hault in a very bad mood. They had been dealt a great deal of trouble and strife from a load of trucks from the Mainland and things went quite unprofessionally when the Twins had to take it out. Dilly was sitting along the station wall while Devon and the four ducklings were standing nearby. They all quacked alertly as they could tell the Twins were angry. Just behind the platform, David had bought fresh tea from the refreshment stand, with Caroline parked just outside the station. He looked and saw the Twins stop at the platform with a loud hiss of steam.
"FINALLY! We be rid of those downright cheating GOATS!" Donald yelled.
"Bless me! What's going on, you two?" David exclaimed.
"Them Mainland Trucks, David! That's what!" Donald wheeshed. "They COULDN'T help it! The whole time we had to take them from Vicarstown to Wellsworth, they simply HAD to keep holding back, then letting go and surprising us, and ALL of them constantly screaming as loud as they ever could, however much we bumped them!"
"All those buggers had us twenty minutes late!" Douglas barked angrily. "The yard manager was most annoyed, and it wasnae even our fault!"
"Yet strangely, those trucks didnae try any accident on us," said Donald. "And so, no one was hurt…except our EARS! All that bloody screaming!"
"Aye! And good riddance to them ALL!" Douglas barked. "Pah!"
David shook his head, taking note of the twins' frustration before he went back to his tea.
Donald then looked toward the platform. "Ach, we're so sorry, Dilly. It's been a very bad day, that's all. But at least you're here to see us, my little quackeroo."
Dilly could see the Twins were unhappy, and in spite of her slow performance of late, she wanted to be near Donald so as to comfort him. She got to her feet and began trotting along the platform…then it happened. Dilly felt her feet losing strength and she suddenly huddled down as if she were sitting on a nest. Donald noticed, and suddenly looked more intently. Dilly tried to get up again, but her feet seemed to wobble more, and after just three steps she sat down again. Donald suddenly remembered her slow performance lately, and he now felt a growing suspicion that something wasn't right at all.
"Hey, Dilly. Are you okay?" he asked worriedly.
Dilly looked up and quacked in distress, as if she were calling for help. Again and again, she tried to get back on her feet, but she simply couldn't stand up. Finally, she tried once more and managed to hobble a few more steps. But right then and there, her feet gave out again as she stumbled a little. Then she started quacking more frantically, seemingly crying for help. Devon and the ducklings scurried over at once and gathered around her. Panicked, Donald and Douglas came right up beside Dilly, their hearts now racing with much alarm.
"Uhh, David!" Donald called.
David turned to the call, and his heart jumped badly too as he ran over then knelt down to Donald's Ducks. The stationmaster heard the worried voices as well and came out of the office. He too saw what was going on and ran over beside David.
"What is this?" he asked. "What's happening, Donald?"
Donald almost didn't want to say it. "I…I think there's something wrong with Dilly."
And there was. Dilly seemed as though she were very weak, and that this was no ordinary situation that a young, healthy duck would be in, whereas she had lived for many, many years. At that very moment, Emily's whistle sounded through the air. David and the Twins looked and saw her coming along with a small load of her own.
"Donald? Douglas? I heard some distant shouting on my way up," she said. "It sounds as though you two have had quite a bad day. What's going on?"
"Oh, Emily…it's not good at all," Donald shook. "We just got off from a very bad bundle of Mainland Trucks. Such a tumult they were."
"And it's just gotten worse. Much worse," Douglas added.
"Right here, Emily," said David. "It doesn't look good."
Emily looked and saw Dilly huddled on the platform with her whole family standing around her. She didn't have to look twice to know what was going on with Donald's Duck. In that moment, Emily knew immediately what this was all about.
"Oh, no," she worried. "You don't look well, Dilly. So, what happened, Donald?"
"She tried to walk over to see me just now," he replied. "But then she sat down twice and started quacking for help. She tried quite a few times and couldn't get up. Then she did get to her feet, but then tripped back down. It's almost as if she doesn't have the strength…almost as if…"
"Oh, no," Emily said again. "Was there any indication beforehand, Donald?"
"Initially, we didnae want to think so, Emily," said Donald. "But now, I think it was already clear throughout this whole week."
"The whole week? What do you mean?" asked the stationmaster.
"Well, you may have noticed, mate…Dilly's been behaving slower and quieter every day," said Douglas.
"Hmm…yes, I have been noticing that," said the stationmaster.
"We'd hoped it was just a slow little phase for her," said Donald. "But now, I don't like what we see. Not one bit."
"Aye," said Douglas. "We thought at first, maybe she was just resting a little…but now…we…"
Emily looked at Dilly again as she quacked quite glumly. Gradually, Emily felt a certain feeling growing in her. Her heart jumped and rippled in her boiler as she looked up again.
"I really don't wish to frighten you, boys…" she said carefully. "But it would seem that Dilly doesn't have much pep anymore. It would seem she's feeling her age."
"I'm afraid Emily's right," said the stationmaster. "Dilly isn't young anymore, Donald."
"Ohh…oh, no…this is nae fair," Donald shook. "Oh…what can we do? There must be something, ain't there?"
David felt a little jump in his throat as he looked at Dilly again, then to her drake and children. After a moment, he stood up again. All three Scottish Engines looked at him intently.
"Let her rest," David said to Donald. "If she isn't better by tomorrow, I'll hire the local Vet to monitor her situation. I'll call right now to inform him."
Hearing this only made Donald feel worse, and Emily and Douglas gravely agreed. Could it be…? No, Donald thought. This had to be a small hiccup that could be cured easily. While the three Scottish Engines kept heir eyes on Dilly, David telephoned the local Vet and briefed him on everything, to which the Vet agreed at once to check on Dilly whenever he could.
"It's been arranged, Donald," David said when he came back. "We'll see how tonight goes…then we'll see what comes next. For now, though, I must call it a night."
With that, David took one more look at the ducks as he left the station, returned to Caroline and started her up before setting off for home.
"I have to be going now too, boys," said Emily. "I really hope Dilly can improve somehow. She's such a wonderful dear."
"Thanks, Emily," said Donald. "Oh, dear…"
So Emily set off on her way back to Tidmouth Sheds, while Donald and Douglas set off for home too. Dilly quacked out after the Twins, to which the other ducks quacked too. Donald looked back and groaned most anxiously. He really didn't want to leave Dilly after what he had seen, but with her family sticking with her for now, all they could do was sleep on it, then see what would come next.
That night Donald and Douglas crawled into their shed and fell asleep, both with very full, unrested minds.
"Please…please don't let it be so…" Donald kept whispering now and then in his sleep.
Meanwhile at Tidmouth Hault Station, huddled safely in her nest, Dilly rested as best she could, with Devon, Bazil, Tod, Anneka and her Emily all right there with her. All through the night, Donald hoped adamantly that if she could make it through the night, then maybe she'd be alright and get back on her feet again…
But most unfortunately, as David had spoken, Donald's Duck felt no better the next day. When he and Douglas came along Tidmouth Hault that morning, Dilly was there waiting for them, and standing right beside her was the Vet. Donald and Douglas knew then what was at play. Dilly had not gotten better, and the Vet would now be checking her whenever necessary to log the matter as it continued to unfold. Dilly then began walking over to see Donald again, but just as before, she lost her footing and huddled back down, quacking in distress.
"Dilly…please, no," Donald shook most anxiously.
"I promise, Donald. I will do whatever I can to help her," said the Vet. "But I'm afraid there's no telling for sure at the moment."
Donald and Douglas then had to carry on, endlessly worrying.
"It can't be," Donald kept whispering. "It can't be…"
It was the same the following days. Whenever Donald and Douglas saw her, Dilly was undeniably ill. The Vet worked hard, but she didn't get better. As fast as any news, the word spread and soon everyone knew what was happening regarding Donald's Duck. Duck, Oliver, Toad, Ryan, Rex, Mike, Bert, Frank, Sigrid and even Daisy were all quite sad to hear about Dilly's condition. As the days turned into weeks, Dilly gradually joined her family at work less and less, and on the few instances she was at work, passengers, porters and engines alike could sadly see that she was becoming more and more poorly. Slowly but surely, Dilly found it harder to stand or walk for periods of time, and despite being a duck, everyone could tell by the look in her eyes and on her beak, she indeed felt poorly inside and outside.
As the troubling matter dragged on, Donald and Douglas tried as hard as ever they could to get on with their work, but with every passing day, the worry and pain only grew stronger. Donald had of course always known that Dilly will eventually die, but as much as he wished she could live forever, it was only an inevitability. Even so, whenever he managed to see his poor pet, she visibly looked weaker and weaker, and was visibly in pain with each passing day. Donald knew all too well that putting her down would end her suffering nice and quickly, but as with every owner and pet, he could never bring himself to accept that form of ending life for Dilly, and the thought of losing her only grew harder and harder to bear…
At last, after three long and most heart-aching weeks, the time was practically upon all of them. One quiet evening, Donald, Douglas, Emily, David and Beatrice were gathered at Tidmouth Hault again, all with pounding hearts and uneven breathing. Huddled on Donald's running plate was poor Dilly. She looked very glum and miserable as she could barely stand up at all. Standing right beside Donald was the local Vet. After three weeks of being checked on, Dilly's condition was very dim, and there didn't seem to be much hope left. As everyone kept watch on her, Duck passed through on the other line.
"Dilly still not feeling well, Donald?" he asked.
"Nae, Duck. And it hurts bad to see it happening," said Donald.
"I'm sorry."
Duck passed on by, and continued on his way, while Donald looked back to his duck. At that moment, the Vet cleared his throat, making David, Beatrice and the engines look to see him bring his finger to his nose, gesturing to be quiet. He then put on a stethoscope, placed it on Dilly and listened for her heartbeat. No one said a word while Donald kept his eye fixed on his beloved duck, waiting most anxiously and worriedly for what the Vet would say.
The station was silent for five full minutes. Then the Vet withdrew his stethoscope and wrote down the results, while Dilly quacked weakly and sickly. Donald felt most awful seeing her like this. The Vet then showed the results to David and Beatrice.
"Ooh," Beatrice said gravely. "Looks kind of bad."
"'Kind of bad'? 'Kind of'?!" Donald whimpered badly before he let out a sob. "Oh, it's hopeless! My poor little quackeroo-hoo-hoo!"
"Oh, Donald. I know," Emily said sadly. "Shhh…"
Donald sniffled hard as he tried to hold back his tears. When he looked up again, he saw the Vet hold David's shoulder, then gestured for him to come outside the station. David followed him, then the Vet started speaking lowly. Beatrice, Emily and the Twins watched most worriedly as the Vet gestured and David nodded every few seconds. Then it came.
"What?!" David suddenly exclaimed.
"I'm afraid so, Captain," said the Vet. "I'm so sorry."
David stood quite still, then nodded gently. "I know. Thank you, sir."
After shaking David's hand, the Vet tipped his hat then set off to go home. David then walked slowly to the platform again. Donald and Douglas had a very bad feeling about this as Beatrice wrung her hands worriedly.
"What did the Vet say, David?" Emily asked.
David hesitated for a moment, then swallowed hard.
"With the current situation as it is now…Dilly only has a few days – at best – before…before it happens."
Emily, Beatrice and Douglas gasped in response, and when Donald heard it for himself, he felt as though his boiler had been cut by a thin, stinging edge as he looked down at his little quackeroo. After three weeks of swaying between hope, worry and panic, this is what it came to? His vision almost felt blurry and seemed to sway ever-so slightly. Then before anyone could say something, Donald went pale and began to tremble all over.
"No. No, it isn't true! It cannae be true!" he shook very badly. "I won't stand by and see it happen!"
"Donald…" Beatrice tried to speak.
"I WON'T see it happen so soon!" Donald exclaimed strongly. "I will stake everything and anything to see to it that Dilly can have just a little more time!"
David walked straight to Donald and held his smokebox.
"I assure you, Donald. I wish that could be so, just as much as we all do," he said. "The Vet has tried everything…but the dice is cast."
Beatrice then came beside David and looked Donald straight in the eye.
"I'm afraid David is right," she said gravely. "There's no hope for her now, Donald. She's suffering. We all knew this time was going to come."
"I know, Beatrice," Donald whimpered. "But even so…there's one thing that I insist must be."
"And what is that, Donald?" said Emily.
"My Dilly. My little quackeroo…she was my duck. I will be the last one she'll say goodbye to…whenever that hour comes, be it tomorrow, or the day after…or whenever it may be…"
Emily swallowed hard as she looked at Dilly and blinked. It was the same inevitability for every pet, and therefore the same sensation of somewhat expecting it be just like this, and at the same time, feeling completely unprepared for this very feeling.
"Of course, Donald," Beatrice spoke up to what he had insisted. "You must be the last one to say goodbye. It's only appropriate that she's with you when the time comes."
"It's appropriate and utterly necessary," Douglas nodded.
Beatrice then knelt to Donald's running plate and softly petted his little quackeroo along her back.
"Well, little Dilly. I'll say goodbye now," said Beatrice. "I am truly grateful happy to have known you in the years I've been here, since David and Emily brought me home."
"Yes, indeed," Emily added. "Dilly. Donald's sweet quackeroo. You have given so much joy to Donald and many others along the Little Western, and I'm very glad to have met you and known you just as everyone else does."
"Aye, Emily. She really has. To Donnie and to me," Douglas nodded.
Then David knelt to Donald's running plate and softly petted Dilly along her head and her wings.
"Don't worry, Dilly. Your Donald will see you at the very end. Goodbye, my feathered friend."
Then very gently, he picked Dilly up and carried her to her nest just behind the platform and placed her inside. The whole family was nestled in together as the four ducklings clung to their mother, and Devon touched his head to Dilly's.
"Dilly…Dilly…" Donald whispered, barely audible as his throat formed a lump.
"Come now, you two," said Donald's driver Errol McGregor. "This is indeed very sad news, but we must take our rest tonight."
Donald and Douglas both swallowed hard and moaned most unhappily as they set off again, keeping their eyes on Dilly until they were past the station. David and Beatrice then gave a nod to Emily as they returned to Caroline and drove home. Emily took one last look at Dilly and her family in their nest and sighed, remembering fondly when she found Dilly with her family, when all four of her children were just wee little ducklings.
"We all love you, Dilly. We always will," Emily whispered as she set off on her own way home.
Under the cloudy night sky with a thin crescent moon, Donald and Douglas returned to their own sheds, completely silent and most upset and disheartened. Through all the consistent decline over these three weeks, they had been holding onto some little sliver of hope that it would turn out better on the other side, but time had taken its course for Dilly, and the end was now within arm's reach. All they could do now was think back to all the fond times they had shared with Dilly, both when they first met her, and all the years she had raised her ducklings with Devon. Such wonderful years they had been for Dilly and the Twins as well, and now those years were imminently over. For quite a while, Donald and Douglas continued to ponder and monger most unhappily and sadly for Dilly until at last, they couldn't keep their eyes open much longer and fell asleep. It had been a rough and challenging three weeks for them both, and they could only wonder how much longer this would last. But what they didn't know just yet, was that this entire ordeal was about to become even more unbearable, on account of one certain figure from their lives from many years ago…who would very soon come back to them both, and square off with them once more.
The next morning, the Steam Team woke up at Tidmouth Sheds, all feeling sorry and in low spirits. Like everyone else on Sodor, they knew what Donald and Douglas had been going through, and they all felt most sorry over the sad news, including Gordon and James.
"I'm really worried about Dilly," Thomas sighed. "It's all been completely downhill for three weeks now."
"Yes, Thomas. It unfortunately has," said Emily. "Whenever it happens, it's really gonna hurt."
"I'm very afraid to say it, Emily…but it really sounds as though Dilly won't make it through the week…" Rebecca said sadly.
"Oh, I don't think she has even that long, Rebecca," said Emily. "The Vet said she…might not make it more than a few days…"
"Ohh…oh, no," Percy whimpered. "Donald and Douglas will be so upset when it happens…"
"Dilly was such a lovely, adorable darling from what I've seen now and then," said Nia. "Just thinking of how it must be now…It's so sad."
"A most dreadful shame to see the day come," said Gordon. "It's infinitely best to leave them be."
"Absolutely, Gordon," agreed James. "No one can fault them for what they're feeling right now."
And so the engines all set off and started their shares of work, all wary of Dilly's situation. They all knew that sooner or later, the inevitable would come to pass, and there was nothing anyone could do about it. But before that wound would come to be opened, Donald and Douglas had yet a different, much older wound that had long-since been sealed, but very soon, and against any and all expectations they'd had thus far, those wounds would all be reopened once more. One they had not felt for decades, way back when their Sudrian days first ever began…and a challenge they had long since assumed to be only once in their lifetimes…
The hours ticked by through the morning, then noon and so on. All the engines on the Main Line and Little Western alike worked hard and a little sadly on Dilly's account…until at last, the time for old foes came upon the day. Around 2:00 that afternoon, Derek came rolling into Vicarstown Yards with a load of fuel tankers from Barrow-in-Furness on the Mainland. The tankers were all well-behaved trucks, particularly on account of just who else was with them. At the very back of Derek's train was a brakevan. One who looked quite shabby and could definitely use a new coat of paint. But there was a most defining nature about this brakevan that had long since been left behind by all of Sodor for years…for this van had been here once before, having carried a certain spitefulness for two certain engines years and years ago, which eventually resulted in something most frightful and grim befalling him after all the trouble he had caused.
Derek made his way through the yards, left his train in a siding nearby, then set off to continue on with his day. Now sitting idle, the van looked around the yards, feeling a certain sense of familiarity with this place, but spoke not a word. Shortly afterwards, Rosie came along to shunt Derek's train away. The van watched as she arranged the trucks in the other siding. He had never seen an engine quite like her before, but there were others he had seen many years before, and he couldn't help but wonder who he would see next. Once Rosie had arranged the trucks, she returned to the van and buffered up to him. Sensing the van wouldn't speak first, Rosie tried to strike up a conversation.
"Well. Hello," she said eventually. "I…don't think we've ever seen you before. May I have your name, please?"
"Oh. I…don't have a name," said the van. "Never given one."
"Oh. Well, I'm Rosie."
"Rosie? I see," said the van. "Well…I…I never thought I'd be back here again…on this railway."
"Really?" said Rosie. "Well, when were you here last?"
"Well…it wasn't any time last year. Nor the year before. T'was a long, long time ago…Thirty years, as I may recall."
"Thirty years? Wow. What's kept you away for so long, then?" asked Rosie.
The van felt a certain twinge inside him as he knew just what had befallen him so long ago.
"I'd rather not say," he said. "That was before, and this is now. Though, I wouldn't mind seeing a little more beyond these yards."
"Well, since it's been so long for you, I have an idea," said Rosie. "I need to shunt these trucks of bricks for Neville to take to Great Waterton. Perhaps you can tag along his train so as to see a bit more of the island."
"Hmm. Beats anything else I had going on, back on the Mainland. Do proceed, little cherry."
So Rosie shunted the van through the yards and on toward Neville's train. Shortly afterwards, Neville arrived and was ready to go.
"Thank you, Rosie. Just in time," said Neville.
Rosie whistled back as Neville set off down the line, while the van looked around wherever this trip took him. He could tell the railway had changed greatly in the years that had gone by, while some things were pretty much the same…but he had no inclination yet as to what was set to happen with him and two other figures of his acquaintance, much sooner than anyone would expect today.
Soon, Neville arrived at Great Waterton and delivered the bricks. The van looked around and was considerably impressed by the small village with its station and water tower. He then wondered where he would be going next, then a few minutes later, Stanley came alongside Neville with some empty trucks. The trucks were not very well behaved, and were quite loud and fussy amongst themselves.
"Hello, Stanley," Neville said out loud, trying to speak above the trucks' chatter. "Where are you heading off to?"
"I'm bringing these trucks to Brendam Docks, Neville," said Stanley. "But there's one little thing missing. I've no brakevan of my own."
"Oh. Well, I've just finished my delivery here," said Neville. "Why not take my van?"
Stanley looked to the brakevan, who smiled in turn, though not the biggest or most genuine smile a van could have.
"Well? What are you waiting for?" said the van. "I'll keep an eye on this bothersome bunch."
"Alright, then. Thank you, Neville," said Stanley. "Much better than no van at all."
So Stanley collected the van and had it coupled up to his trucks. As soon as the van was in line, he split the air at once.
"Listen, you lot! I'M in charge now! So NO bumping, and NONE of you a-cheek!"
"Ahh!" the trucks yelped, taken quite by shock. "We're trucks! We're supposed to be loud!"
"Not under MY eye!" snapped the van. "I give the orders now! Pay heed, if you know what's good for you!"
This made the trucks quiet down at once. Stanley was pleased and whistled goodbye to Neville as he set off again on his way to Brendam. Along the way, the trucks weren't loud anymore, perfectly aware of the van's presence. As Stanley went along, the van kept an eye on the trucks whenever he could, while also taking in the views of Sodor after being away for so many years. He then began to wonder who he would see next. But just a short while later, as Stanley kept on his way, they passed by Crocks Scrap Yard. When the van saw the yards, he was suddenly greatly disturbed as to what had befallen him so long ago, hearing a select few words only he and a few others had heard once before…
"Ohh…I wish I'd never thought of this…Go on! Go on!"
"Go steady! The van's breaking…!"
The van shuddered to what he recalled happening next…and it was then that he began to feel a sneaking suspicion as to who would be the next engine or two to cross paths with him again. The time was drawing near for all three of them.
On the Little Western, Donald and Douglas were resting at Tidmouth Hault yet again. They had worked slowly through the morning, both feeling awfully down and in very poor spirits about Dilly, now only expected to have only a few days at best before it would be all over. Dilly was nowhere to be seen, and neither were Devon or the ducklings. They were all on their own, spending precious time with Dilly before Donald's time would come to see her one last time. Douglas could feel his heart beating strongly in his boiler with every given moment. But Donald felt even worse as he still couldn't fully accept the harsh truth. Dilly would be gone in just a little while now, and there was nothing anyone could do about it.
"I cannae accept it, Douggie," he whimpered. "Before we know it, she'll be gone, and there won't be a 'Donald's Duck,' ever again."
"Oh, Donnie…it's indeed an awful pain for us both," said Douglas. "But as with all pets, it's only natural that we knew the day had to come."
"For so many years we've had her…" Donald whimpered. "And yet why did the day have to come so soon?"
"After all, we've had Dilly for many long years," said Douglas. "Well-spent, wholesome and truly happy years for your little quackeroo. Not one moment of it was wasted."
Donald breathed deeply and sighed, knowing all of this to be true before he and Douglas fell silent for a few minutes. Then something came to Douglas that made him look up with a slight perk. A very different subject, but one that still intrigued him enough to speak up again, and try to get their minds off their worries even for just a little bit.
"Say, Donnie…" he said curiously. "I think I'd like to inquire something with you. Would you care to hear…and forget our worries, even if it is very brief?"
"I…I suppose…" said Donald. "What may that be, brother?"
"I just thought back to our days way back in Scotland," said Douglas. "And how you and I turned out through it all. I be thinking… Have you ever thought about one of us being repainted a different colour? After all, some folk tend to mix us up on the off occasion, even with our numbers and nameplates."
Donald decided to at least humour the idea and thought for a moment…then remembered the very colour all the other Caledonian engines used to be painted with, as he and his brother knew only too well.
"The engines on our auld lines used to be blue," remembered Donald. "But nae sae dark as we are. You and I never were though, Douggie. We had to be black; sae blue makes a nice change. It'd bring us a little closer to our old home…though frankly, one of us being repainted is the last thing that ought to be on my mind at the moment. All my thoughts are fully bent on my sweet quackeroo…if only it didn't have to come to this."
"I know, Donnie," said Douglas. "I was merely curious to know what you'd think."
"Aye, brother. And it is something to think aboot," said Donald. "But perhaps now is nae the opportune time. I can already see Bill and Ben jesting about there being yet another blue engine on the railway if I went ahead and did that."
"Well, now that you mentioned those two…that reminds me of the Highland Jocks back on our old line," said Douglas. "Them fellows were painted chartreuse yellow with red lining, quite like those two bees, as Duck calls them."
"Terrors when they start buzzing around, they are," said Donald. "Oh, dear…"
Just then, the stationmaster came out of the office. The twins looked up at once.
"Sir? Anything about Dilly?" asked Donald.
"No, not yet, Donald," said the stationmaster. "She's still huddling with her family while she has the time. For now, though, there's something else for both of you to do."
"Hmm. What be that, sir?" asked Douglas.
"I know you're both endlessly occupied about Dilly, but there's still work that needs doing. An important heavy goods train is waiting for you both at Brendam Docks. It must reach Vicarstown before nightfall."
"Are there any other engines required for the job?" Donald asked. "Emily perhaps, so long as she takes the front and both of us are at the back?"
"No need for that, you two. It's not that long and heavy," said the stationmaster. "But long and heavy enough for the two of you to manage together."
Donald and Douglas looked at each other, knowing they'd have to go. The stationmaster then spoke a little further.
"And Donald…just for you, I will be keeping tabs on how poor Dilly is doing. If there are any updates, I'll let you know…"
Donald swallowed hard, wishing adamantly that he didn't need to go, but of course, he and Douglas knew really useful engines do as they are told. So it was that they both set off with a low, sad whistle together. As they travelled unevenly along the line, both their wheels started quaking beneath them. The bad feeling concerning Dilly was now so strong, neither engine knew how this was all going to turn out. Would there be no news for the until later, or would it suddenly happen while they were still on the job, effectively denying Donald a final chance to say goodbye as he had insisted to have with his beloved Duck? Only time would tell as they made their way along the Main Line.
At this moment, Stanley had arrived at Brendam Docks with his trucks and the brakevan. Salty was shunting in one of the sidings, and as Stanley came along Cranky and Carly, he saw a long and heavy goods train. Ten trucks, five flatbeds and five tankers, twenty rolling stock altogether, all lined up and covering a fair stretch of line. The van saw the long train and wondered if he would be put off to another engine for this round. Then suddenly, the van felt a little jump in his wheels and looked again. This train was quite long indeed, almost as if it needed more than one engine. Sensing this, the van began to feel that sneaking suspicion again, but before he could say anything, Stanley spoke.
"Well, I say, Salty," said Stanley. "Who is to be managing this lot?"
"It's a job for two engines, matey," said Salty. "All the way to Vicarstown, it be bound. Donald and Douglas are coming by to collect it."
"I see. Definitely a job for two," said Stanley.
In this very moment, neither Stanley nor Salty knew it, but the names that had just been spoken caused the van to quiver where he was. His eyebrow twitched and his mouth gaped ever-so slightly. He immediately felt all alerts going off in his head. Up to now, he had little to no inkling that he would cross paths with those two ever again…not since it all happened between the three of them. His wheels began quaking harder, yet he spoke not a word as the dock manager came by and saw that Stanley had arrived.
"Ah, good. You're here, Stanley," he said. "I've just received word. Sir Topham Hatt wants you to collect some coal trucks from the coaling plant and bring them to Great Waterton."
"Yes, sir. I'll head over as soon as my trucks are in place."
Stanley then shunted his trucks into a siding out of the way, while the van continued to quake in his wheels. He opened his mouth to speak, when at that moment came those two whistles. When the van heard the sound, he suddenly froze. Then it all slowly came creeping back to him as he looked…and saw them both. Donald and Douglas having arrived to double-head with their long load for Vicarstown. In all the years that had passed, this van had not seen either of them at all, save only once before…and it was in this moment, that old foes were set to cross each other one more time.
"There it is, Donnie," said Douglas. "That be our load there."
"Hello there, you two," said Stanley. "Come for this big lot, are you?"
"Aye, Stanley. We have," said Donald. "Douggie and I can manage this, can't we brother?"
"Of course," said Douglas. "Long, but two can take this one…except for one thing. I don't see a van on this train."
"You're right, Douggie," said Donald. "Can't go off without one of those, can we?"
Douglas then looked and saw Stanley had something else at the back of his train, though he couldn't see perfectly due to another line of trucks blocking his view.
"Say, Stanley," he said. "Could we use your van for this leg of our journey?"
"Don't see why not," said Stanley. "By all means."
Donald and Douglas then watched as Stanley came out of the siding. At first, their thoughts were quite neutral…but then Stanley came into clear view, and in that very moment of fate…they saw him. All time seemed to freeze to a complete standstill for Donald and Douglas, and when the very figure Stanley was pulling looked back at the two engines, their boilers felt as though they petrified into stone. There, standing before their very eyes, after thirty long years since they were certain to have seen the last of him…was the Spiteful Brakevan. That very van who had taken his petty dislike for Douglas thirty years ago, making him late and putting him at blame when both twins' fates were indeed on the line, thus encroaching insatiable torment and hurt when they first ever arrived on Sodor. Both engines and the van stared directly into the other's eyes as none of them said a word. Yet Donald and Douglas could hear all the words that had been spoken from thirty years ago ringing through their heads.
"Yer a muckle-nuisance! It's to leave you behind, I be wantin'!"
"You can't! I'm essential!"
"Ach! Are you?! Yer nothin' but a screechin' and a noise when all is said and done! Spite Douggie, would ye?! TAKE THAT!"
"Oh! Oh-oh!"
"There's more comin' should ye misbehave!"
"James is cross! We'll try to make him crosser still!"
"Help me up the hill, please! These trucks are playing tricks!"
"We'll show 'em…"
Donald and Douglas could not believe for one instant what they were seeing. All these long thirty years, they had presumed the van to be gone for good, and that any trouble with him was over indefinitely. Yet here he was, against all their definitive thoughts on the matter, standing right before them as plain as anything. This was the very, very last thing they ever would have expected to be happening with them now, and with Dilly's failing health still harming their spirits, to say matters were utterly worse would be a hideously gross understatement.
"Donald? Douglas? What's wrong?" Stanley asked, clearly concerned. "You're both still as statues. Is something-"
"Stanley…S-S…STANLEY!" Donald exclaimed, finding his voice at last, and utterly aghast. "D-d-d…do you not REALIZE who you've brought back to us?!"
"You…!" Douglas trembled to the van, just as aghast as his brother. "You…! YOU'RE supposed to be SCRAPPED!"
"Am I not?" the van replied bluntly.
"Who? What are you two talking about?" Cranky called down. "It's just a brakevan."
"You don't know?! The Spiteful Brakevan!" Donald shouted up to him. "The only worst enemy to Donnie and I!"
"And those two are Donald and Douglas…exactly as I remember them!" said the van.
"Spiteful? Whatever did he do, Chuck?" Carly called down.
"Great Scott, such spite, pain and turmoil this FIEND laced upon us both," said Donald. "Far back when we first ever came here."
"Winding my trains late, thus putting ME at blame, this fool did!" Douglas said indignantly. "Until the very day I pushed so that he broke apart into driftwood on Gordon's Hill after Donald crashed into the signalbox. Donnie and I were left in constant question of our fate back then, and we were SURE this van would never be seen again!"
Stanley, Salty, Cranky and Carly were all quite shocked and surprised by what they were hearing indeed. Then Donald spoke again.
"YOU! The Spiteful Brakevan!" he hissed most crossly. "How in Almighty HELL are you here in this very moment, day, hour and minute?! Last we heard, you'd been scrapped after what happened there on Gordon's Hill."
The van looked both engines square in the eye, casting that very glare of spite they recognized right out of the storybooks that told the story way back when.
"Well, you two. After I was returned to the Mainland, all in pieces, I was left alone and held onto for some while. Then by some miracle of my own…I was rebuilt and sent away to Barrow-in-Furness. I've mostly worked there as a spare van for trains coming and going, and then, as some fate seems to have it, I was brought back to work here. Some oily fellow named Derek brought be in at Vicarstown, to which a certain cherry named Rosie put me with an engine named Neville. Then at Great Waterton, Stanley here picked me up and brought me here…thus…here we are…once again. I might have known something wasn't exactly right when he passed on by Crocks' Scrap Yards…yet I never thought I'd live to see either of you steamies ever again. Quite a shock, it is."
Neither Donald nor Douglas could believe for one instant what they were seeing or hearing. None of the other engines had suspected who this very van was, and so now, here they all were.
"You've still been roaming? All these years?" Donald said grimly. "And NO ONE ever told us?"
"Thirty whole years…and we were all wrong?" Douglas shook angrily. "Damn to Hell, this day be! THIS is a sheer calamity!"
"Aye, Douggie. Now, here we are," said Donald. "With this whole heavy lot to take to Vicarstown…and HE had to show up in front of us yet again!"
"This will NAE do at all!" Douglas griped. "Cranky and Carly? Ain't there ANY other vans about these docks?"
Both cranes looked all around throughout the docks, but they couldn't see any other vans.
"Oh…I'm sorry, you two," said Carly. "But I don't see any other vans about. Perhaps Bradford would have been alright, but he's most often with Samson."
"It would seem you're stuck with this one, you two," said Cranky. "Unless you wish to wait for another one to come along."
Donald and Douglas pondered and weighed their options. They had been dealt a lot of challenge for the past three weeks on account of Dilly's failing health, and they were most unhappy and truly upset with this rediscovery. They truly dreaded the very prospect of having to work with this brakevan again, but he was the only van available. Furthermore, they knew from their experience with David's grudge upon them that doing just the same with this van would be of no help at all. And so it was, that despite all that had happened before, both engines knew if there was to be any progress at all, they had to let the past be the past. And so, with their hearts stirring most uncomfortably, they made their most reluctant decision.
"This is truly most shocking to us both," said Donald. "Undoubtedly the single most heinous betrayal of our perceptions I can ever recall."
"Aye, Donnie. It be," said Douglas. "I really cannae say any more than that."
"And yet…we cannae let the past stand in our way now, brother," Donald went on. "We have to move forward, however we can right now."
Douglas thought this most ironic, given what they were seeing now, but he knew Donald was right.
"And so we must move forward," he sighed. "Come on, now, Donnie. Let's get on with it. You and I."
Donald then huffed to the front of the train and bumped the trucks roughly. All he wanted was to get through this trip and be done with it as soon as possible, spite or no spite.
"I'm all set, Douggie," he called.
"Right. Be right there," Douglas called back.
Douglas then switched to the van's line, then buffered up to shunt him to the train. Douglas' driver Jock McGregor turned the regulator to start him up again, but as soon as he began to push, in that very moment, the van spitefully, and sneakily, slipped on his brakes. This made Douglas stop with a jerk, and when he looked up, the van looked right back and smirked with a most vain snicker. Douglas knew immediately what had just happened. Through letting down his guard for just a moment to leave the past behind him, he had given the Spiteful Brakevan the very chance he wanted. Douglas could already feel those truly horrible days flooding back to his smokebox.
"No…no! No, you DON'T! Not again!" he shouted.
Donald heard his brother and immediately reversed to see what was happening. It was plain and spiteful as anything this van had ever done before.
"Oh, my. So very gullible to think I hadn't forgotten you two either," the van sniffed.
Douglas grew cross right away, then buffered hard against the van and tried to keep pushing, but it was no good. His wheels spun helplessly and only moved him a few inches at best. Seeing Douglas struggle and strain most pitifully, the van's resentment for this engine breaking him up all those years ago was getting the better of him as he smirked again.
"My. How bold you are to try struggling with me all over again," he taunted. "But I know perfectly well what useless dishcloths you both are. Lousy Scots, always winding up late when you have to take it out. Pitiful."
A tingle of rage burned through Donald's boiler as he saw what the van was doing to his brother. He would not let this happen again, and so he too came huffing back and buffered harshly to the van from the front.
"Come on now, Douggie! Together!"
Donald tried to set off again, but he suddenly felt a bad jolt and he couldn't move as his wheels spun helplessly too. Donald and Douglas pulled and pushed as hard as ever they could, but even with them working together, the van's brakes held on firmly, causing them to move very, very slowly. Donald and Douglas struggled and struggled as sparks flew from the rails, and they both wheeshed and whistled furiously until their whistles were sore and their wheels ached, but still the van held on, goading, teasing and mocking them endlessly, causing both engines to flare with more and more anger as they tried ever harder still to move the van, all to no avail.
Finally, with one more heave of frustration, Donald and Douglas gave up and stopped pulling and pushing, now out of breath, and incessantly angry. As they panted and heaved hard, the van was most impudently pleased with himself.
"Aww. Don't you see?" the van gloated sweetly, yet most spitefully to Douglas. "I'm going to wind you up late, and you will be blamed, Lousy Scot. Just as I did to your little pal, Donnie. What a pair of pansy-tootsies, you both are. Oh, woe is both of you. So very sad, isn't it? Tsk-tsk-tsk."
But right then and there, the van had spoken too far. For both the Scottish Twin Engines, that was it. Something snapped. In that very moment, Douglas went quite still. With all the pain from all those years ago festering in his boiler all over again, he finally lost his temper and all sense of control. For a few brief moments, he felt as though some similar entity to that of Thomas' inner demon had found its way into him, as his instinct knew no boundaries now. This van needed to be punished, Douglas thought, and nothing and no one was going to stop him.
"That's it…that is it…this ends now!" he trembled with rage. "Clear the way, Donnie! Leave this…'brakevan' to me."
Donald almost felt scared as he could feel the anger simmering in his brother now. He uncoupled from the van and left the line at once, all too ready to let his brother proceed. After all, the van had wronged Douglas first. And so, Douglas reversed a few yards, then came a great scream of pure, concentrated wrath as he charged full-tilt towards the van, then smashed into him so hard, the van's brakes jolted off at once. This sent the van sailing back several yards, and into another siding where he crashed hard into the buffers.
"OW! Oh-ohh!" cried the van.
"Got away once before, did you, 'precious'?!" Douglas growled. "Not this time! NOT THIS TIME!"
Then he charged forward again with another deafening scream and rammed his buffers against the van, who shouted again in pain and great fear now.
"I've HAD it! I'VE HAD IT!" Douglas screamed in his loudest possible voice. "NOT FIVE MINUTES AFTER WE CROSS PATHS AFTER ALL THESE YEARS, AND YOU'RE ALL SPITE ALL OVER AGAIN! You alone have the two of us ENDLESS misery and stress when you stowed away with my brother, back when we were in so much fear of being separated from the other, and one of us being scrapped! ALL while YOU tormented us both for NO bloody reason other than for your OWN SELFISH AMUSEMENT!"
The van shut his eyes tight to how loud Douglas' screaming was. Then the No. 10 Engine fiercely bashed the van again, hitting him even harder against the buffers and pressed in again. The van was now very scared as he was now sandwiched between the buffers and Douglas. There was no hope of getting away from this now.
"You've done it in, you bloody son of a BITCH!" Douglas shouted. "Here you are screeching and pettily bullying us ALL OVER again, whilst by most accounts, our poor beloved pet is going to die any day! Captain Rider will be after you now! He'll give you the lash and serve you right!"
"Douglas! Do NOT speak of such things!" Jock snapped from his cab. "Any bystanders will hear you!"
"LET them hear! Bring the whole Island in!" Douglas shouted. "Hang the rules and regulations! And hang Sir Topham's orders! I refuse to let that van lord it on our rails another MOMENT! The proper place for him is in the Scrapyard, where he ought to be smashed down to driftwood – THIS INSTANT!"
"Douglas!" Jock checked firmly. "I will NOT see you do this again! For your own sake-"
"Am I the one who bested him once before, or am I not?!" Douglas stated indignantly as he turned to the van again. "Insolent mongrel-pup! Here we are, Donnie and I, willing to put aside our resentment of you to get our job done, and yet YOU, you shagging, spiteful SCUMBAG of a BASTARD are still just as petty as you were all those decades ago!"
As Douglas shouted and vented, he slowly pushed in closer, squeezing the van between him and the buffers. Sensing it as clearly as when it happened once before, the van squealed in horror, just as he did when he was sent to pieces on Gordon's Hill, until Douglas suddenly paused and slowly backed up, clearly charging up for another strike.
"YOU were given a second chance at life. A chance to aid your fellow engines willingly!" he trembled to the van. "And low and behold, you choose to WASTE it all by being the same spiteful BASTARD as you were all those years ago! As once I inflicted upon you on Gordon's Hill, here today, once more, YOU – have elected – the way of – PAIN!"
Then Douglas pressed hard into the van again, squeezing him even tighter against the buffers, to which the van suddenly heard a crack on his bufferbeam. Then slowly, one or two floorboards just before the door began to crack and splinter away!
"Douglas! DOUGLAS!" Jock shouted, then spoke those very words. "Go steady! The van's BREAKING!"
"No you DON'T, Jock!" Douglas barked back. "As it was thirty years prior, I will NOT be beaten by yon Tricksy Van!"
"Ahh! Ahh!" the van shouted. "Stop! Stop! Sto-o-o-op!"
Even as the van spoke, the squeezing suddenly stopped, and everything went still. Douglas slowly eased up and released his buffers from the van, then looked right at him. The brakevan was still in one piece, and very shaken now, trembling from front to back to what had almost happened to him again. Douglas could see he had made his point straight through that spiteful van's heart. Beyond any hair of doubt, Douglas had won this fight, and so he issued a most ominous and grim warning to his and his brother's worst enemy.
"Aye. I banged you up again…and I nearly did it again. I see you trembling from front to back…and yet for all I have just done…that was all just a warning shot. I'm warning you now, you swine. You ever DARE attempt giving ME, or my brother any further spite – any at all – and I will NOT hesitate to smash you down to bits all over again…and next time…it will NOT be an accident. Everything YOU did to us was no accident, thus Donnie and I were dealt much suffering and fright as to what would happen to us! And so, I think NO brakevan in the history of any railway will suffer as greatly as you will. If any further spite of yours is laced upon me or my brother like this…then you will kneel – IN PIECES!"
And on the final word he shouted out, Douglas gave the van one more big bang into the buffers, after which he finally stormed away and headed back to the train. Donald had seen everything his brother had just done, and he had no thoughts to the contrary. The way he saw it, his brother had every right to feel the anger that he did, and do what he had just done to this most wretched van.
"Come on, Donald," Douglas grimaced. "We'll take this lot ourselves. I'll push while you take the front."
"Aye, brother. Anything to get away from this bollocks!" Donald barked as he looked at the van. "Let him stay there. Let him rot! Why should we care?"
Then he switched to the right line and buffered strongly to the train, while Douglas buffered angrily to the back. By now, the twins were running late, but they didn't care what anyone would say about it now. The van had done all of this, and they were not going to be blamed on his account anymore. As they started off down the line, Donald took a deep breath, then loudly spewed out a thick wave of steam as he passed the van. When the steam cleared away, the van saw the other twin once more.
"FOOL of a rolling stock!" Douglas growled to the van. "Throw yourself to the smelter's pot next time and rid us of your STUPIDITY!"
Then the twins set off down the line with their load. The van watched every second until they were both gone. Even with the Twins now out of sight, he was still trembling from front to back with the words he had just heard, and with what Douglas had almost done to him once again.
From his own siding, Stanley had seen everything, as did Salty, Porter, and all three cranes, all utterly speechless to see Donald and Douglas as utterly angry and unhinged as this. Stanley, Salty and Porter thought it most prudent to give Donald and Douglas all the space they needed. When Stanley looked at the van again, he was now looking very frightened and very ashamed of himself. For a fair few minutes, no one knew exactly what to do. Then it came to Stanley.
"I…I think you'd best stick with me," he said as he coupled to the van again. "Come on. I have to go to the Coaling Plant."
The van didn't utter so much as a peep as he and Stanley set off out of the docks for the Coaling Plant to collect his trucks. For Donald and Douglas, what had transpired just now was most outlandish and horrible for all concerned. Both twins had been dealt a most unfair and scathing wound to be reopened on them both, and given the present circumstances at hand, these challenges were inescapably set to become much, much harder, as Donald in particular would most tragically have to face much sooner than anyone might have expected.
Since we have no dedicated Christmas story planned for this year, we're instead going to celebrate by having Donald and Douglas suffer through the death of Dilly the Duck and the return of the Spiteful Brakevan, who for the record is going to have a redemption, as you will soon see. Two more chapters left, and the next one will feature Dilly's death, and yes, some ducks can live up to twenty years if properly cared for, but because this is a piece of fiction, Dilly has managed to live for twenty-eight years in this universe. Until next time, tell us what you thought of this chapter, and as always, stay safe.