#ttte oc: sir bertram hatt i

[the-rewritten-railway-au]

One or the Other

April 1925

Word Count: +9,110

An experimental rebuild of his class has arrived on the Island of Sodor, bought by the North Western Railway. He wonders if he'll fit in just fine with the other engines as problems begin to rise.

~

The sun was setting within the horizon, tucked behind the ocean. All of the engines at Barrow-in-Furness had returned to their sheds, except for two.

While both engines were classified as Lancashire and Yorkshire Class 28s, the only two of their class with Hughes Twin Plug superheaters and Belpaire fireboxes, they were quite different. One of them was an original Class 28, no modifications on them were found. The other was a rebuild, an experimental rebuild specifically. After a year of trial, he was deemed as a failed experiment.

Today was one of his last days before heading to the Island of Sodor, to the railway he was sold to.

"You're gonna love it when you get to Sodor!" chimed the smaller engine, as she noted her younger brother's mood. "It's lovely, I promise you."

The rebuilt engine let out a high-pitched wheesh. He hummed. "But you said that the engines there were straight-up sinister," he remarked.

His sister chuckled. "I meant the other engines on trial. Though two of the five were quite mean, I would ignore them if I were you, little brother."

"I'm much bigger than you!" he huffed. "...but, what about the others?"

"Oh, they're quite pleasant," she noted. "Though one of them might not be there anymore." She looked down. "There was an engine who sat in one of the sheds all the time. He barely went out."

"So he could've been…" James gulped a heavy cloud of steam, which slowly backed up his pipes. "Scrapped?" He wheezed out.

"Mhm," hummed his sister. "Don't let it intimidate you. It's just how it goes."

He stayed quiet.

His sister sighed. "I'm sure you'll do great, and you'll fit in quite well."

"...And what about you?" he asked as he looked at his sister.

His sister looked down. "Oh, I'll still be here." She whistled before chuffing away. "Who knows. We might see each other here every now and then."

"Here? As in Barrow-in-Furness?"

"Mhm," she stopped. "There are a few engines who come over from Sodor to here. You might be one of them soon." With that, she left.

The younger engine smiled warmly as the engine, the only one he could truly consider to be family, left. He looked in the distance and could barely see it but it was there.

The Vicarstown Drawbridge was raised up as if reaching for the limitless sky. Once it was let down in the morning, he would leave, and when he crossed over, he would possibly never come back.

…

It was shortly after lunch as four engines were being fired up after a good hour break and a quick announcement from Sir Bertram Topham Hatt II, the director of the North Western Railway.

A grand blue tender engine named Gordon huffed. "Edward, you will give this railway a bad name, just by rolling up there."

Henry, a grand green tender engine right next to him, asked, "They could be reckless. It's better if one of us goes instead."

An emerald-green tender engine, Emily, gave them a quick glare before shifting her attention to Edward. "What do you think they'll be doing when they arrive?" she asked, in hopes of deviating from the negativity.

Edward, a blue medium-sized tender engine, looked at the two largest tender engines and smiled. He softly chuckled. "Ye're forgettin wha mentorit the both of ye," he said, then glanced at the emerald-green tender engine. "Emily, I'm sure it'll be fine. I've been seein more goods trains than usual sae thon's most likely what they'll be doin."

Emily hummed. "That's true."

Gordon huffed and Henry grunted.

"Noo, noo," said Edward. "Please be nice tae the newcomer. It would be rude of us not to."

Emily whistled but the other two said nothing.

Edward rolled his eyes. "Let's get tae work, now. I'll see ye around!" he exclaimed as he chuffed away, continuing to work in Tidmouth Yards.

…

Within a few days, Sir Topham Hatt II had a workman from Tidmouth pass a message to Edward's crew, Charlie Sands and Sidney Heaver.

"The new engine has arrived," he said. "He's at Crovan's Gate Works."

Without any haste, Edward had his tender refilled of coal and water before getting onto the Main Line and heading towards Crovan's Gate. He hummed along the way as he huffed and chuffed down the line.

…

The rebuilt engine nervously rolled to a stop right next to what appeared to be a factory or repair shop.

"Is this it?" he asked his driver hastily as he observed the large brick building. The massive brick building had tall windows that were quite dirty, making it difficult for the engine to look through. He was curious as to what was going on inside, huffing in frustration.

"This is the place," replied his driver, Fred Quill, as his fireman, George Turner, patted at the curious engine. Just a few minutes ago, the engine had been fuming and crying after a not-so-pleasant farewell. It's as if the events that had taken place the day before had never happened.

Just then, Sir Topham Hatt II approached him, followed by two men dressed in blue coats and blue slacks. He dressed appropriately as any other railway owner would, in a full tuxedo with a yellow vest.

The newcomer was a medium-sized tender engine of two leading wheels and six 5'6" driving wheels. His livery was matte black, except for his buffer beams. On his cab was his number, 12556, painted in yellow, the same yellow used for the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway logo on his tender. Unlike other engines, he had a three-chime brass whistle sitting on top of his domed boiler. Across his face, at eye level, was a black stripe, with the number 12556 in white.

The black medium-sized tender engine looked at the man with his heterochromatic eyes of rich brown and lush green.

"Hello there! You must be James!" Sir Topham Hatt II exclaimed with excitement.

The engine jolted, and quickly looked away from the building. His heterochromatic eyes landed sight on the stout gentleman. He was confused. "Who?"

The Fat Director nodded at him. "You, James," he replied.

"P-pardon?" he asked, confused and nervous. He avoided eye contact. "I-I think you have the wrong engine, sir. I don't have a name. My number is twelve-thousand-five hundred fifty-six or twelve-five fifty-six, sir."

"Then you are James," the director said. "I gave you that name. Do you like it?"

James was shocked. Flabbergasted, he looked down shyly. Eventually, he replied. "I do, sir. Thank you, sir."

"You're welcome. Where are my manners? Welcome to the North Western Railway. I am Sir Bertram Topham Hatt the Second, the director of this railway. I expect you to become of good use," said Sir Topham Hatt II.

"Of course, sir!"

"Marvelous!" Sir Topham Hatt II said before looking around. Suddenly, he exclaimed, "There you are!"

James looked in the direction that the director was looking in.

Up ahead, a cerulean blue tender engine rolled in and came to a stop on the track to his left. The other engine was medium-sized, like he was, though a bit smaller, and had four leading wheels and four driving wheels.

Sir Topham Hatt II glanced at the blue medium-sized tender engine, smiling at the warm presence the locomotive brought with him.

Edward smiled at the new engine.

The director looked at James. "You will be working with one of the railway's most hardworking engines." He looked back at Edward with pride before gesturing from him to James.

The blue engine gave a quick hum before rolling closer to James. "Hello thare. Ma name is Edward," he piped cheerfully, his Scottish accent being quite thick. "What's yers?"

"James," the black engine replied quickly. He was still nervous.

Edward smiled. With a quick fweep, fweep!, he exclaimed, "Welcome tae Sodor, James!"

"Edward will be your mentor, James," said the Fat Director, gesturing James to Edward. "You will be working with him at the shunting yards in Tidmouth. Edward will guide you there." He turned to the blue medium-sized tender engine. "Edward, please make sure James is in line with the others. Keep an eye on him."

"Aye, sir!" replied Edward.

James followed. "Yes, sir!"

"Alright then. On you go! I will be checking on your progress by the end of this week, James."

Once Edward was turned around, the engines left Crovan's Gate and headed for Tidmouth Yards.

…

"Are you Scottish?" James asked meekly. They hadn't gone far away from Crovan's Gate when the silence became loud and uncomfortable.

Edward hummed.

James perked up. "If n-not, I'm sorry!" he quickly exclaimed. "It's just your-" His stuttering began to crack into his voice.

"Accent?" Edward said, interrupting the nervous engine. He chuckled. "I wis built in Scotland."

"And what railway do you come from?"

"I canae remember," Edward replied.

"Oh."

It stayed silent again.

"Ur ye an LMS original engine?" Edward asked.

"No. I'm a Lancashire and Yorkshire Railway engine."

Edward slowed down. "Lancashire and Yorkshire?"

"Yes?" James eyed the engine suspiciously.

"We had two engines come over from thon railway back in nineteen-twenty-ane," Edward replied. He hummed. "I was shed mates wit ane but the other ane wis allocatit at yon old Vicarstown Sheds wit the other ladies." He shook his frame. "One wis an L&YR Class Nine and the other wis an L&YR Class Twenty-Eight."

"I know that Class Twenty-Eight engine!" James exclaimed.

His loud voice startled Edward. "Eh?"

"That was my sister, fifty-five!"

Edward stared at James.

"W-What?" James became nervous all over again.

"Och, nawthin, nawthin!" Edward quickly reassured him. "Ye jist donnae look like yer sister…" He looked away, wincing at his own words.

James huffed. "I'm an experimental engine that was once a Class 28," he muttered bitterly.

"Och, och!" Edward braked harshly. "I'm sae sorry! I should'nae-"

James halted and backed down, lining up with Edward. "It's fine," huffed James. "How much longer to Tidmouth?"

"A while," replied Edward.

"Where is Tidmouth?"

"Oan the other side o the island!"

"What?" James exclaimed.

….

Tidmouth was very far away.

By the time the two engines pulled into Tidmouth Yard, which sat next to Tidmouth Station, dwindling towards the west, James was low on water and coal. Said engine could barely see it but from a distance, he saw what appeared to be the bay of the island. Not too far away and closer to him was a turntable.

"Here we are! Welcome tae Tidmouth," Edward exclaimed as he rolled into the shunting yard. James followed suit. "This is where we'll be workin for now," said the blue medium-sized tender engine.

James looked around the small yard. "And where are the goods trains?" he asked, confused.

"Och," Edward's lips strained, forming a thin line. "Well… aboot thon." He cleared his pipes. "The Fat Director wants ye tae do shuntin."

"Shunting?" The black medium-sized engine tensed. "But I'm a goods engine," said James.

"It's what he directed."

"But why? Do you not have any shunters?"

"We do."

"But where are they?"

"You're talking with the only one right now."

James' heterochromatic eyes slowly glanced over at Edward, meeting the other engine's brass eyes. The worry within boiled. "You're a shunter?"

The baritone of his voice threw Edward off, startling him. "Aye," he replied, tense.

"But you're a tender engine!"

"I ken."

"Tender engines-"

"Ur'nae meant tae shunt," interrupted the blue medium-sized tender engine. "But it's the Fat Director's orders. Nawthin I can dae aboot it."

"And you're the only one."

"Ye're jist goin tae keep askin questions, ur'nae ye?"

James backed away.

Edward took notice, alarmed. "It's no a bad thing!" He glanced at the yard, concerned. "But we have work tae dae."

"And it's shunting?"

"Aye! Noo, let's git tae it!"

…

Throughout the afternoon, both engines had some small chats. Edward spoke what little he could remember of the early days of the railway, adding his experiences with the other engines.

Despite the good things he was hearing, James was still worried.

"Do you think they'll like me?" James asked.

Edward hummed as he shunted some Troublesome Trucks to the end of a track. "They will," he replied rather bluntly.

"Oh." James wasn't convinced.

The blue medium-sized tender engine sighed with a warm smile. "Hey, listen. If they donnae like ye right away, give thaim time," he said as he backed away from the trucks.

Suddenly, a low baritone-pitched whistle was heard from a distance. The two had heard it multiple times throughout the day but this time, it got closer to them.

"Is that one of them?" James asked.

"Aye!" Edward replied. He backed up next to James in time to see a grand blue tender engine thunder into the shunting yard with empty coaches. "Come along, come along!" he piped to James, who followed suit.

The blue grand tender engine halted and hummed, observing the two engines approaching him. He focused on the new one.

"Are you the new engine?" The great blue engine asked.

"Yes, uh-" he swallowed a cloud of steam. "I'm James," James replied with a strained smile. He felt small, smaller than Edward.

Edward inched forward. "Why don' ye introduce yerself?" he suggested to the grand blue tender engine.

"Well then, hello. I'm Gordon, and I pull the Wild Nor' Wester," Gordon said bluntly.

"O' the afternoon!" added Edward.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Gordon," James responded, feeling tense.

"It was a pleasure as well." Once the grand blue tender engine was uncoupled from the coaches, he left.

"I'll get thaim, ye keep workin oan the regular freight cars," Edward said as he moved to the track where the coaches were.

James looked at the coaches. "Are those the Wild Nor' Wester coaches?"

"They are," Edward responded as he gently shunted them in place. "It's our passenger express service."

"Does someone else pull it? You said something about the afternoon."

"Aye. She's in charge o the Mornin runs."

James hummed curiously. "Do you get to pull it?"

"Mm, naw. No-"

Another whistle was heard. Though this time, it was a higher pitch than Gordon's. "Hello, Edward!" A voice hollered out.

"Och, thon's Henry!" Edward exclaimed. He looked at James. "This way, this way!" He chuffed backward. James followed.

"You must be the new engine. My name's Henry, what's yours?" a grand green tender engine asked as he rolled to a stop in the yard.

"I'm James," the black medium-sized tender engine replied. He liked Henry already. He's nice, he thought.

"It's nice to meet you. I need to get going. I'll see you around," said Henry before he whistled and left the yard.

James hummed. He asked Edward, "Is he the other engine who pulls the Express?"

"Naw, he pulls the regular passenger coaches an goods trains. Gordon pulls goods trains as well, thouch not often," Edward replied.

"Then who's the other engine?"

"Thon would be-"

"Edward!" An English-accented voice hollered.

"Emily, hello thare!" replied Edward.

"Did Gordon do the final Express run of the morning?" Emily quickly asked. She became excited when she noticed the unfamiliar engine next to Edward.

"He did. He juist left for his break."

"Good, good," Emily said in relief. "Now, who is this?" The emerald green tender engine inched closer to the two medium-sized tender engines.

"Gae on," Edward whispered to James. He backed up. "Introduce yerself."

"Hello, I'm James," said James. "It's Emily, right?"

"It is. Welcome to the railway, lad!" Emily replied. "Have you met the coffee pot engine, yet?"

"Coffee pot engine? The ones with the vertical boilers?" James asked, surprised and curious.

"Thae are the anes," Edward replied. "Thare's only ane left on the railway. He runs the Ffarquhar Branch Line, ane o the only operatin branch lines left. Still frequentit as it wis back then."

James hummed. "Do you guys work on the branch line?"

"Nope," replied Emily. "We work on the Main Line, which runs from here to Barrow-in-Furness."

"Oh. Will I be working on the Main Line?"

"Of course. In fact, you are right now." Emily paused when she noticed the lettering on James’ cab. "Welcome from the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway! Did you come from a railway before then?”

"Yes. The Lancashire and Yorkshire," replied James.

"Lancashire and Yorkshire, huh? Think we had two engines on trial from there, not too long ago…" Emily looked at Edward. "Have the other two met him?"

"They have. Shortly before ye came, thon is," replied Edward.

"Good. I must get going. Sir Topham Hatt wants me to pull the passenger train while Henry's gone. I'll see you two later!"

"Alricht, Emily," said Edward as Emily pulled away from the shunting yards. He looked at James. "Wid ye like tae shunt the passenger coaches?"

"Uh, sure," replied the black medium-sized tender engine worriedly. "Which ones are they?"

"The red coaches on the second tae last track."

James spotted the red coaches and went to work.

When he shunted the red passenger coaches into the station, he heard a little girl.

"Mummy, look! A new engine!" she exclaimed, pointing at James.

Her mother hummed. "It's like all the other engines," she commented with a smile.

James began to smile. 

Finally, someone else recognizes that I am just like the others. Just as great. Just as useful-

"I don't see what's so different about it from the rest," the mother said, her smile disappearing. "Other than the eyes," she added, dropping her voice level. She looked down at her daughter and motioned at the passenger coaches. "Come on. Let's get on the train, dear."

The little girl simply followed her mother as James' heterochromatic eyes followed the pair. His eyebrows furrowed at the comment.

Despite the fire still going in his firebox and his water supply full, his boiler felt empty and cold.

So much for wanting to be like everyone else… he thought as he quietly puffed away.

…

It was evening when James and Edward finished with work. The two engines headed to Knapford Sheds, which were not too far. The other engines were already waiting for them, including the coffee pot engine.

On the way back, the comment from the mother had nagged at James, who tried to push it away.

"Glynn, guid evenin!" greeted Edward as he backed into the berth, along with James next to him in the no-longer empty spot.

"Good evening to you too, Edward," replied Glynn when he noticed the unfamiliar engine right next to him. "Hello there. You must be the new one around here, chap," he said.

James was no longer thinking about what happened earlier. He was staring at the coffee pot engine in awe. He'd heard about them but had never seen one before. 

Glynn was tiny in length but was nearly the same height as Edward. His boiler pointed upwards and his livery was red, covered in a few scratches and dents.

"Oh, hello!" James greeted back, with a sudden rush of eagerness and curiosity. "I am. I'm James!"

Glynn chuckled at the reaction of the black medium-sized tender engine. He was used to it. His design was one-of-a-kind. "Hello, James. Welcome to the North Western Railway."

"Thank you," replied the black medium-sized tender engine.

"You're very welcome. I'm hearing you're around in the shunting yards for now."

"I am… Glynn, was it?"

"It is, lad. With Edward guiding you, you'll be fine on this railway."

"I hope so…"

"Is something on your-?"

"Can you please keep it down?" muttered Gordon from the other end of the shed. Henry, who was right next to him, was fast asleep. "Some of us are trying to get some rest. It's getting late."

Edward yawned. He had stayed quiet for the majority of the time, occasionally speaking to Emily, who tried to stay awake but had fallen asleep rather quickly. "He has a point," said Edward, with another yawn. "Guid night…"

Glynn looked at James. "We can chat tomorrow. Good night, James. Have a good rest."

"Good night, Glynn," replied James.

Soon, all the engines were fast asleep, with James looking forward to the following week.

…

A loud shrill rang throughout the sheds that morning.

The engines panicked, waking up with a startle. Henry suddenly moved backward, his fire having barely started. He bashed into the buffers at the end of the track.

"Goodness me, who was that?" he asked with sudden fear.

Someone nervously chuckled. All of the engines looked at James, who was about to leave.

"T-that was me…" replied James. "Was it that loud?"

"Well-" began Edward.

"Yes, it was," Gordon huffed. "With that kind of whistle, you'd certainly scare off the passengers."

"Gordon!"

The grand blue tender engine ignored Edward as he whistled and chuffed away.

"Dinnae-"

"Don't mind him, I know," James said, interrupting Edward. He brought his voice down to a whisper. "My sister told me not to."

"Did you say something?" Emily asked.

"N-no, I didn't say anything," James replied. "I'm on my way to the yards."

"Is yer whistle a three-chime whistle, by any chance?" asked Edward.

"Oh, it is," replied James. "It was given to me during my rebuild, 'as a gift' they said. I'm sorry for scaring you all like that."

"Donnae worry aboot it, James. Thouch it wid've been nice tae ken beforehand…" Edward reassured with a chuckle.

"Right, right." James chuckled nervously as he headed out of the sheds.

…

The next few days went by with ease, or they did so initially.

James had been making great progress. However, by halfway through the week, it was becoming quite sloppy, to say the least.

"Dinnae let them get the best of ye, James. They want engines up tae high doh," said Edward, reminding the black medium-sized tender engine.

James groaned. "'Up the high dough?""

"Flustered, upset… rile up an engine!"

He huffed. "That's troublesome."

The Troublesome Trucks continued to laugh. "No good engine, no good engine!" they chanted with boisterous laughter.

Edward shot a glare at the trucks. "Thon's why they're callit Troublesome Trucks," he said, looking back at James. "Ye'll neit tae learn hou tae deal with thaim properly. Sir Topham Hatt is hopin tae have ye pull yer first goods train by the end of the week."

"Why not now? I was a goods engine on my old railway," James asked as he finally managed to shunt the trucks in place.

"Most of our goods trains have Troublesome Trucks, thon's why not noo," replied Edward. "Sir Topham Hatt doesnae want tae risk ye gettin intae an accident for bein inexperiencit."

"Oh, right," replied James.

Edward hummed. "Och! Before I forget, Glynn is stoppin by for his break. He wantit ye tae shunt his coaches for him."

"Really, why?"

"I dinnae ken," said Edward. "He simply askit me tae tell ye."

"Alright…" said James. "Edward, I'm like the other engines, right?"

"Well, naw. We're all different from ane another-"

"I meant as in- Nevermind," huffed James, returning to shunting the Troublesome Trucks and leaving a confused Edward behind.

"Whit dae ye mean by 'as in?'" asked Edward as he followed the black medium-sized tender engine. "James?"

"It sounds silly but am I an engine? Like a real engine?"

"Of course, ye are," he replied, confused.

"Even if I'm a failed experiment?"

Edward was flabbergasted. "A failed-? Aye, e'en sae, James."

"That's good to know."

"Why are ye askin this? Is awthing alricht?"

James hummed. "...Do passengers often say really rude things?"

Edward's eyes widened. He sighed. "It's best tae ignore thaim." He began to chuff away, leaving the black medium-sized tender engine to ponder. "Nawthin we can dae aboot it."

…

Around the early afternoon, Glynn arrived at Tidmouth Station. After dropping off his passengers, he headed towards the shunting yard. James was waiting for him, just having arranged a goods train for Henry to take.

"Hello, Glynn," he said as Glynn approached him.

"Hello, James," said Glynn. "I want you to meet my coaches."

"Hello there!" piped up the first coach. "I'm Annie, and she's Clarabel," Annie said, smiling as she glanced back at Clarabel, the passenger brake coach.

"It's nice to meet you, James!" exclaimed Clarabel, as she and Annie were uncoupled from Glynn.

"Hello, Annie. Hello, Clarabel," greeted James to the auburn passenger coaches as he was coupled up to them from the back.

Glynn chuffed away. "I'll be near the water tank. Thank you, James!"

"You're welcome, Glynn!" James replied as he reversed. He thought about where to put the auburn coaches for the time being.

"We usually go in that shed over there," said Clarabel, noticing the pondering engine. She glanced to the left. "Where the red passenger coaches are."

James hummed as he reversed further and switched tracks to reach what looked like a carriage shed. It was at the edge of the shunting yard. As gently as he could, James shunted them in place.

"James, have you ever pulled coaches before?" Annie asked suddenly as a workman uncoupled her from James.

James sighed. "No, I haven't," he replied as he backed away.

"Would you like to one day?" asked Annie.

The black medium-sized tender engine stopped in his tracks. "Sorry?"

"Would you like to pull coaches one day?"

James was hesitant. "I would, but I'm a goods engine. I'm not meant to be pulling passenger coaches."

"Well-"

"You better get going, James. Glynn does want to spend some time with you," said Clarabel hastily, interrupting Annie.

"Oh right! See you in a bit!" exclaimed James as he chuffed away from the shed. He left to join Glynn.

"Goodbye, James!" said Clarabel frantically. Her franticness went unnoticed by James.

But not by Annie. "Clarabel, what was that for?" asked Annie.

The equivalent of Clarabel's eyebrow bone furrowed. "We can't be telling a newcomer such things, Annie. Besides, we don't know for sure. It's… just a possibility."

…

"...Henry refused to come out of the tunnel. An engine on trial almost got him out but he was being stubborn."

"Would this engine happen to be an L&YR Class 28?"

"Pretty sure it was. Do you know this engine?"

"She's my sister. Number two-forty-three?"

Glynn hummed. "Oh, I remember her. I didn't see her much, though."

"Then how did you know about that?"

"The other three told me about it. They'd seen how hard she tried, but Henry's strong. He wouldn't budge."

"Not one bit?" asked James, amused.

Glynn chuckled lightly. "Not one bit. So the board, including the old Fat Director, ordered for the tunnel to be walled up. He was let out eventually, but that was only because Gordon burst his safety valve and none of the other engines were available to cover for him."

"Wow," said James with a stale tone, though amused. "Even if Gordon hadn't burst his safety valve, Henry would have still been let out, right?"

Glynn stayed silent.

"Right?" Fear began to creep into his boiler.

"No," Glynn replied bluntly. "I don't think so. The others do, but I don't."

"O-oh…"

"It's been a few years since that happened."

"So it won't happen again?"

"No, I doubt it would," said Glynn, teeth clenched.

"Alright. So what happened after?"

"Everything went back to how it was after Gordon was fixed up, just like it is now."

"Nothing changed?"

"Nothing changed," Glynn replied. He heard footsteps. The red coffee pot engine looked in the direction of the sound and saw a group of men walking toward them. "That's my crew. My break's over. Don't worry about Annie and Clarabel, I'll get them myself."

"Oh, alright then. I should get back to work. Goodbye, Glynn!"

"Goodbye, James!" said Glynn as the black medium-sized tender engine left to return to his work in the yard.

…

"James? James!"

"Hm? Who's there?" asked the black medium-sized tender engine as he backed away from shunting a few cars into the siding. He saw the engine, who had been calling out for him. "Oh, hi, Gordon," said James.

"For how much longer are you going to work in the yard?" Gordon bluntly asked with no greeting.

"By the end of the week, I think," replied James, thrown off by the question. "Why?"

"Just curious," he replied. Gordon brought his voice down to a whisper. "You could be a replacement."

James froze. "R-Replacement? Who?"

"Edward."

"E-Edward?" James looked around frantically to find the engine. He managed to spot him on the other side of the yard. "What's wrong with him?” he whispered. “He seems to be just fine."

"Yes, but that's because he stays in the yard. Have you not noticed how he never leaves the yard?"

The question made James think. "He left once for a goods train to… somewhere, but I've only been here for a few days-"

"Edward's old," Gordon said bluntly. "He's been a shy steamer from the day he was built."

"I've never seen him have that issue…" replied James, looking down as he thought back to the past week.

“He never wheeshes because he just cannot steam enough to do that.”

"But Edward's a reliable engine. Sir Topham Hatt said so himself," replied James. "Besides, I was brought here to pull goods trains. I just… need to be ready."

"Sure," Gordon huffed as he rolled out of the yards, leaving a worried James behind, who recalled something his sister had said.

…

"Edward, when were you built?" James asked the blue medium-sized tender engine the following morning.

Edward hummed. "I canae remember… but I might be a few decades old," he replied. Edward noticed James' tense stance. "Is somethin botherin ye, James?"

"No, no. No… Actually, yes." He looked straight into Edward's eyes. "Were you the engine who stayed in the shed during the loans? The one who never left?

Edward was startled, but he still answered. "Aye," he replied, looking down. "But I did leave a few times."

"How many?"

"Mmm, five times?"

"A year?"

"The entire time."

James frowned. "And since when have you been here in the yards?"

"Since nineteen-twenty-three, when the Amalgamation happened. But I dinnae mind it. As lon’ as I'm no’ left in the shed all the time, I'm quite pleasit wit it," replied Edward with a pleasing smile.

However, Edward's words shook through James' boiler, and the smile of the blue medium-sized tender engine bothered James.

James watched as Edward went on with his work. "And what about the Troublesome Trucks?" he asked. He had become more annoyed with them since he arrived, growing tired of their mockery.

"Whit aboot thaim?"

"How can you handle this job? Dealing with those Troublesome Trucks?"

"Well, ane, I enjoy it. An’ two, it takes time."

"You enjoy it?"

"Aye, an’ thare's nawthin-"

"Yes, there is!" James yelled.

Edward was startled but his eyebrows furrowed.

"How do you not want to lose it with those trucks?" He huffed. "I'm ready to shunt one off the rails."

Edward hummed. "I am patient wit’ thaim."

"Don't you wish you could do something else?"

"Well, it wis either this or tae be lockit up in the sheds," replied Edward sternly. "An’ I wid rather no’ be sittin in the sheds, deterioratin’ over time." The blue medium-sized tender engine moved away, continuing his work.

James had an idea.

"How about we travel along the mainline?"

Edward stopped. "Pardon?"

"Travel along the mainline. You said you've been here for quite a while. That means you barely go on the Main Line, right?"

"Well, aye. But like I said, I like workin’ in the yard. It's not much but it's nice," replied Edward, getting a bit worried.

"Then let's go on the Main Line!" James exclaimed. "We can chuff around for a bit!"

"Ye're off yer smokebox!" Edward exclaimed. "We're supposit tae stay in the yard. Orders frae the Fat Director!" Despite his own insistence, the offer to leave was tempting.

"He won't find out," said James. "Lighten up a bit!"

"Aye, he will," Edward said sternly.

"It'll only be for a bit!"

"Doesnae matter!"

"Please! The others have just left. No one else should be coming back, right?"

"No’ for a while," replied Edward. He looked up. "Emily jist left wit the Express, Gordon is gaun’ae tae Vicarstown tae deliver a guids train, and Henry is pullin the regular passenger train before headin’ tae the docks wit a guids train from Barrow-in-Furness."

"Then we aren't disturbing anyone."

"An’ the yard?"

"It'll be fine! It'll just be for a bit! Please!"

Edward frowned but then sighed. "Fine. It daes sound nice, but I dinnae like the idea o’ leavin' wit'out Sir Topham Hatt knowin'…"

"Don't worry! We'll be back shortly!"

…

And back shortly, they were. They had spent less than an hour traveling from Tidmouth to Wellsworth, before turning back.

As they approached Knapford Junction, Edward struggled to see the signals. He squinted, solely focused on the signals that he didn't notice Gordon coming from his left.

Gordon whistled loudly, startling Edward. "Edward! Watch out!" He exclaimed.

"Och!" Edward exclaimed as he pushed on his brakes. He braked in time, missing Gordon. "Gordon! I'm so-!"

"Edward and James!"

The three engines at the junction gasped as they saw the small chubby director storm over to them.

"Gordon, get back to work. Now," he said sternly.

"Of course, sir!" Gordon quickly replied as he chuffed away to Tidmouth.

"You two. The station, now!"

"Y-yes, sir!" exclaimed James.

"Aye, sir!" exclaimed Edward.

The two quickly chuffed towards Knapford Station, leaving the director behind to follow them.

Once the engines settled in the station, Sir Topham Hatt II spoke loudly and sternly at them.

"Edward and James, where have the two of you been?" he asked, raising his voice.

James panicked. "We were on the Main Line, but we didn't go far before coming back, sir!"

"Not far? You're not supposed to leave the shunting yards, the both of you know that!" the short and chubby director exclaimed with fury. He looked at Edward. "Especially you."

"I'm really sorry, sir. James really wantit tae gae, and I agreit. I really wantit tae wander around. Jist for a bit," Edward quickly exclaimed.

Sir Topham Hatt II sighed. "I can't say I'm not upset or disappointed, especially with you, Edward. From now, you're both staying in the yards. You are not to leave unless I say so, understand?"

"Aye, sir."

"Yes, sir," the two medium-sized tender engines replied in solemn unity.

"I hope you do. I'll come back next week instead. Clearly, you both need to learn and behave." Sir Topham Hatt II said sternly before walking away. He shook his head in disappointment, leaving the two engines to think about what they'd done.

…

The following day, James was listening to another of Glynn's stories. This time, it was about the old days of an old railway: The Tidmouth, Knapford, and Elsbridge Light Railway.

"... they were such great engines. Sadly, the first one didn't make it past the beginning of the century and the other was scrapped in nineteen-twenty. The other engines were scrapped by then, so it was just Edward and me. Thankfully, Emily, Henry, and Gordon have come along, and now you have as well." Glynn sighed. "You've been quite helpful since you got here."

"Mm. I'm glad I am," replied James.

His flat tone worried the red coffee pot engine. "You know, you've been quiet for most of the morning and I've noticed you've been ignoring Edward. Is something going on, chap?" Glynn asked.

James looked down, staying quiet.

"It's about yesterday, isn't it?"

The black medium-sized tender engine sighed. He continued to look down at his black running board. "Do you think Edward's mad at me?"

Glynn hummed. "He isn't one to stay mad for long. Talk to him."

"Alright…" James looked at Glynn. "Who were the other engines? Were they from other railways?"

"Well…" Glynn hummed. "There was a tender engine, along with two tank engines from the old Wellsworth and Suddery Railway, and two box-tank engines from the Sodor and Mainland Railway." He squinted, looking down in thought. "Actually, one of the box tanks might still be around here somewhere."

That piqued James' interest. "Really?"

"Maybe. I just don't know where. The tender engine was responsible for leaving them on a siding… His name was-"

"Glynn! Break's over!"

Both engines looked in the direction of the sound. It was Glynn's driver, Gilbert Perkins.

"Alright, Mr. Perkins!" Glynn exclaimed. As Gilbert climbed into Glynn's cab, along with his driver, Glynn looked back at James. "Talk to Edward about it. It's the only way to know." He whistled a farewell and left to pick up Annie and Clarabel for his afternoon run.

James stayed behind in the empty and lonely area of the Tidmouth Yards.

He has a point.

…

It was easier said than done, James thought to himself.

For the past few days, he struggled to talk to Edward but managed to speak up to him, days after his conversation with Glynn.

"Edward…?"

The blue medium-sized tender engine looked back at James. "Hm?"

"Listen, I'm… I'm sorry."

Edward lifted an eyebrow. "For?"

"For making you leave the shunting yard. It got you in trouble and-"

"I'll stop ye richt thare," Edward interrupted, as he backed down to be right next to James. "Ye dinnae make me leave the shuntin yard. I chose to leave wit ye," he explained with emphasis.

"But still-"

"We're both tae blame for whit almost happenit," said Edward. "I actit upon my temptation an ye acted upon yer naivety."

"Naive?" said James offensively. "What do you mean 'naive?'"

"As in, ye dinnae know any better," Edward bluntly replied. "Thon's all."

James frowned.

"Och, thon reminds me. Sir Topham Hatt is comin’ tae see ye in a bit about yer first goods train later today," said Edward.

"What, why? Is there something else I need to know?"

"I think so," replied Edward. His eyes drifted to something elsewhere. He caught a glimpse of the man in question. "He's comin' this way. I'll continue work in the yard," he muttered as he quickly chuffed away.

Sir Topham Hatt II soon reached James. "There you are, James. Now, I came to remind you about the goods train you're taking today. Do you remember where and where?"

"From Brendam Docks to Vicarstown, sir?" replied James.

"Correct. Now, I need you to be careful. From what I've heard, you are capable of handling the Troublesome Trucks but please be cautious, alright?"

"Yes, sir!"

"Excellent! Now, please go to the Crovan's Gate Works," he said, smiling. "Welcome to the North Western Railway, James, our number six engine. I look forward to hearing good reports on your first run."

James gasped with joy. "On it! I won't let you down, sir!" he replied with determination and happiness as he left, smiling, to continue his work.

…

It was the late afternoon of that day when James arrived at Brendam Docks. He rolled in with the number 6 painted on his tender.

He was quite surprised to see how empty the docks were.

There was only one crane at the docks, doing all the unloading. James thought he saw a weird shape, a face of some sort on the crane. But it was too dark to be sure with the sun setting.

James wanted to say "hello" but decided not to. For all he knew, the crane probably had no face. I would make a fool of myself, he thought.

The black medium-sized tender engine was switched over to be able to back up into the goods train. A workman in the docks approached him, coupling James up to the goods train. He gave a quick thumbs up to Fred, James' driver.

"Alright, we're ready to go!" Fred hollered out for James to hear.

James' three-chime whistle rang throughout the docks, startling a few of the workers, before chuffing away.

…

James arrived at the Vicarstown Yards without any problems. The Vicarstown Station was there, which only consisted of platforms, and the abandoned Vicarstown Sheds were nearby. Gordon was there with Wild Nor' Wester for the afternoon.

Fred and George climbed out of his cab, walking towards the smokebox of the black medium-sized tender engine.

"We had a very good first run, didn't we, James?" asked Fred with pride.

"Everything went fine. There's nothing wrong," James replied, a bit thrown off. It still caught him off guard when someone asked for his opinion. "Yeah, it went well."

His crew chuckled, hiding their solemn feelings for the engine.

Fred Quill and George Turner were transferred over to the North Western Railway with James. While George wasn't married or had any family living with him, Fred did. Thankfully, his family agreed to move to Sodor, with special transportation provided by Sir Topham Hatt II to help with the move, having Emily be of assistance for both crewmen.

From their time on the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway, they had seen the trouble James went through as an experimental goods engine after his rebuild, especially with most of his siblings. And especially on the evening of James' last day on the LMS.

Suddenly, one of the workmen in the yard called out. "You may leave now! Emily will be coming by to take it from here!"

Without wasting any time, the crewmen climbed into their engine's cab and left the yard.

…

The following morning, James was the second to last engine to leave the sheds for work when he saw Henry in his berth.

Henry was usually the first to leave. However, the grand green tender engine looked ill. Too ill and tired to move.

"Henry? What's wrong?" asked James quietly.

"I'm having boiler problems again," replied Henry solemnly. "It happens a lot. I'm used to it."

"Since when have you had them?"

"When I was built. The old Fat Director was quite upset when he realized it," Henry replied.

"Can't they do anything to fix it?"

Henry shot a glare at James. "Not after they bought you," he snapped with sudden bitterness. "They said it was too expensive." He squinted at James. "Yet, his first investment was you."

James was thrown off. He hadn't interacted much with Henry but he had initially taken a liking for the grand green tender engine.

"I-I…"

"Just get to work," said Henry. He looked away with a frown. "If you're replacing anyone, it better not be me. Might as well replace Edward or Glynn. I've worked too hard for this railway, for goodness sake."

James stayed silent and left.

If you're replacing anyone, it better not be me…

…it better not be me…

Fred and George began to worry. "Let's go refill on coal and water, chap," said Fred, patting his engine’s cab.

As the black medium-sized tender engine chuffed away, Henry scowled and James could feel it be directed to him.

He felt extremely uncomfortable so he picked up the pace to quickly leave Knapford and head to Tidmouth. His crewmen hollered at him.

He could just use the coal hopper and water tower in Tidmouth Yards.

…

That afternoon, Henry passed through the yard, searching for his goods train. He was able to start running once again and, with enough convincing, Sir Topham Hatt II allowed Henry to pull his goods train to Barrow-in-Furness.

He looked around until he found a long train of trucks full of crates and tarp-covered trucks. Henry smiled at being able to find it as he backed down the front of the train. Nearby was James.

James was preparing a set of trucks to take to Brendam Docks when he saw Henry. He felt tense at seeing him, promptly attempting to ignore him.

Attempting.

"Afternoon, James," said Henry.

"Hi, Henry," James replied swiftly, with a frown.

The grand green tender engine frowned as well. "Listen, I'm sorry about-."

"I don't want to replace anyone," James said suddenly, interrupting Henry. "I didn't come here to replace either of you guys. I was brought to help you guys." James huffed. "Glad they did…" What are you doing? "b-because you don't even do anything!"

"A-Anything?" huffed Henry. Now it was his turn to be thrown off as he fumed. "I work hard for this railway. I push myself to my own limits to get a single job done. I may have been defective, but at least I was appreciated, compared to the failure of an experiment you are!" His crew pulled on the brakes out of fear, locking him onto the track.

James was thrown off as Fred and George tried to soothe him. "How did you-?"

"I remember your sister, alright. The L and YR Class twenty-eight engine? Works number two-forty-three. The one who tried to get me out of that tunnel. I saw her at Barrow-in-Furness before you came here. In fact, I saw you there with her."

The black medium-sized tender engine stayed quiet.

"If you want to be worth the Fat Director's money, you better get going on those trucks, mate," said Henry with a scowl. "I'm leaving." With that, he whistled, announcing his departure from the Tidmouth Yards.

Fred jumped out of James' cab once Henry left, rushing to the front of the engine. James' cheeks burned, turning black as his boiler boiled and bubbled.

"James? Lad? Hello?" Fred called out.

They heard chuffing approaching them.

"W-what happened? James?" exclaimed Edward. He had been on the other side of the shunting yard when he heard a loud, distressing commotion. The blue medium-sized tender engine had seen Henry leave hastily.

"Hey, Quill. You guys alright?" hollered out Sidney Heaver, Edward's fireman as he jumped out of the cab, towards Fred.

"We are, but James isn't," replied Fred, slightly distracted as he tried getting James' attention. "Come on, lad!"

"James? James!" exclaimed Edward.

James wouldn't budge.

An idea came to him. "I'll see if I can find Glynn. He might be just the engine to bring him to." He whistled and chuffed away once Sidney climbed back onto Edward, leaving Fred and George with James.

By the time Edward had found Glynn, it was dark. Glynn had just returned from his final passenger run. Edward quickly shunted away Annie and Clarabel, with the usual gentle care.

But when they arrived, James had disappeared. He had left with his trucks for Brendam Docks.

…

The next day, Emily chuffed up to James, shortly before it was time to pull the Express.

"James, are you alright? I heard what happened yesterday," said Emily.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm alright," he replied.

Emily hummed. "Are you sure?"

"Yes, I'm sure. I just needed some time to think alone, that's all."

"Right…" said Emily. "Listen, if you want to talk, just know that I'm here. So are Glynn and Edward."

"Thanks… Um, Emily, is there something wrong with Edward and Glynn?"

"No… Well, Edward has steaming issues but not severe enough to prevent him from working, and Glynn has broken down a couple of times," she replied. "Why do you ask?"

"Nothing, just wondering."

"I know you're lying, mate," Emily said bluntly. "Did someone tell you something?"

James looked away and frowned.

"James…"

"Yes…"

Emily sighed, having a good idea of who it was. "Bother. Don't listen to them. They don't know Edward and Glynn as much as I do. Those two are troupers."

"Will the Fat Director replace either one of them?"

"He would never, unlike the board," she grumbled.

"The board? They make the final decisions, don't they?"

"They do, somewhat, but they struggle because of the Fat Director. It takes a lot for both to agree, and that doesn't happen often from what I hear."

"And if it does, when it comes to… replacing?"

"Then… it does."

…

Since that day, James has stayed quiet. Extremely quiet. He didn't like Emily's solemn tone. It bothered him, nagged at him as if a workman was scraping his firebox empty.

His sudden mood change did not go unnoticed but the attempts to speak to him were fruitless, except for Glynn.

"Glynn, there really is no way of escaping being scrapped, is there?" asked James.

The red coffee pot engine sighed. "I'm afraid so. In the end, we will be scrapped. The question isn't if we will be scrapped, it's when we will be scrapped," he replied solemnly. "What brings this up?"

"I just have a lot on my mind…" said James. "I miss my sister."

"You always mention your sister, young lad," said Glynn. "You have other siblings, right?."

"I rather not," said James bitterly. "They were nothing but rude to me. Just absolutely profane." He glanced at Glynn, glaring at the thought of them. "Twelve-five fifty-five, two-forty-three before the Amalgamation, was the only one who respected me after my rebuild. She actually treated me the same way she would treat others."

"My apologies. I didn't mean to set you off," said Glynn.

"It's fine… I'm sorry for responding like that," James replied solemnly.

"We're just really worried about you, James. You weren't… rude when you arrived," Glynn said bluntly. "And you've been acting quite odd."

"I need to get going," replied James. "I have another train to pull from Brendam."

The red coffee pot engine sighed. "Alright then, lad. Take care on the job! I'll see you later!"

James smiled. "Thank you! I'll see you later!" he exclaimed, with a sudden change of mood.

…

"James? James!"

The black medium-sized tender engine jerked awake. "Huh?"

"The Fat Director wants to speak with you," said Emily, who was on the turntable next to the sheds. "There's a little platform in Tidmouth Yards. His office is right there." She whistled. "Goodbye, see you later!" she exclaimed hastily.

"Ah, goodbye!" James exclaimed. He heard snoring to his left. There was Glynn.

That's weird, he thought. Glynn is usually off to work by now…

Not wanting to disturb the coffee pot engine, the black medium-sized tender engine left quickly and quietly.

…

The trek to Tidmouth Yards was uncomfortable and quiet, an appropriate feeling for James at the moment.

Since my rebuild, I wanted to be like every other engine, he thought to himself as he headed to the platform. But after that… I don't think I want to be like any engine. I want to be unique. I want to be different. I want to be special, but still, be a really useful engine.

Sir Topham Hatt II spotted the approaching engine. "Good afternoon, James. I have something special for you," he said once James came to stop at the platform.

"What is it, sir?" asked James.

"Starting tomorrow, you will be going on a trial," Sir Topham Hatt II told him, his voice becoming stern.

"A trial, sir?" James asked, worried.

"I'm putting you on trial on the Ffarquhar Branch Line," said Sir Topham Hatt II. "You will be running the passenger service for that line."

James was shocked. He gasped. "A passenger train?" James asked nervously.

"Yes, a passenger train. That branch line is one of the only operational lines that we can afford right now, and many people from the south of Sodor depend on it. Don't let us down, James," he said sternly. "Have I made myself clear?"

"Yes, sir! I won't let the railway down. I will do my very best."

"You better. Go on with your work now."

"Yes, sir!" replied James. He whistled and chuffed away from the platform, leaving Tidmouth Yards.

…

"I heard ye were put oan trial oan the Ffarquhar Branch Line," asked Edward that afternoon in the Tidmouth Yards.

"Yeah, and?" James asked defensively.

Edward looked ahead, staring blankly at the landscape ahead. "I jist wantit tae say, congratulations," he replied. "I forgot tae say this the other day, but welcome tae yon railway, number six."

"Well, thank you very much," he said. James gestured toward his number. "Took you long enough."

Edward hummed. “Sorry, jist been busy, thon’s all.” He yawned. "I'm gaun'ae get some rest. I'll see ye later," he mumbled as he chuffed away.

There was no response from James, as he was thinking, Twelve-five fifty-five, you were right. I did fit in just fine…

I think.

.

.

.

It was a peaceful summer morning on the Island of Sodor, and today was James' first passenger run.

He was going along the Ffarquhar Branch Line when he heard an unfamiliar whistle. An engine, a stranger, approached right next to him.

When he looked over, he gasped and braked so suddenly. Sparks flew from his wooden brakes.

The engine had no face.

James recognized her from the many stories he had heard on the London, Midland, and Scottish Railway. The very vivid description going through his mind.

"Lady?"

"Indeed I am, James," Lady replied.

"W-What are you doing here?" James asked.

"I am here to simply tell you one thing."

"What is it?" he asked. An odd fear began to boil within him.

"It's one or the other, James. One or the other…" chanted Lady.

She continued chanting when another voice joined.

James looked ahead to see an engine that he knew all too well.

"One or the other," the L&YR Class 28 engine chanted with Lady, looking into James' eyes with no emotion. She was going backward on the track.

"T-Twelve-five fifty-five?" asked James nervously, his voice wavered.

"You see? You fit in just fine! It was one or the other, and you've gone for one," said LMS 12555 so uncannily. "You even have a name! James. What a splendid name for a splendid engine."

"I-I did!" he replied, trying to ignore the uncanny feeling that lingered in the air. "M-maybe one day, you'll be here with me! We can have a peaceful life on Sodor, sis!"

LMS 12555 frowned while Lady continued to chant in the background, "One or the other. One or the other. One or the other…"

At the same time, the space around them changed, and everything deteriorated. It became a black void with the tracks being the only thing in existence.

"But James… it's one or the other…" she said as she began to deteriorate and fade away.

Before James could say anything, a sudden glow enveloped Lady. Within seconds, a golden light flashed, blinding a stunned James, who had a sad face of realization.

.

.

.

James woke up, heavily panting. He looked around in the darkness of Knapford Sheds. He looked to his left.

Glynn was gone. He hadn't seen him since yesterday morning.

It's one or the other… James thought to himself as he began to panic. He squeezed his eyes shut as the phrase repeated itself in his mind.

One or the other…

One or the other…

One or the other…

~

[houseboatisland]

Edward x BoCo 💙💚

A family can be a steam engine from the 1890s, a Metropolitan-Vickers Diesel-Electric Type 2, and the Devil Incarnate within two tiny yellow shunters, and I think that’s beautiful💁🏼💙💚

Okay so:

While Edward is BoCo’s first and only love interest, I’m sure Edward has had several partners over the years.

Edward fought tooth-and-nail for The Fat Controller to keep BoCo when this was still undecided, because he knew BoCo’s days on the Mainland would be numbered. The Fat Controller trusted Edward’s judgement over his own Board of Directors, and once he had confirmation that the Diesel Department at Crovan’s Gate was up to making BoCo a reliable engine, he applied for his transfer from the Midland Region. The Midland Region, in no hurry to take him back, allowed this.

Edward’s always been a liberal and open-minded engine. Even when diesel prejudice first started taking root among other Sudrian steam engines, he flat out refused to go along with it. If it costed him respect or earned him mockery from other steam engines, so be it.

BoCo was initially worried Edward would be prejudiced against him like all the other steam engines he’d known at home and on the Island, so to see Edward just welcome and accept him instantaneously was like mindblowing.

BoCo was the one to crush first, but Edward felt the same way only a few weeks later. And when Edward understood this, it hit him like a freight train, (no pun intended.) He was INFATUATED, and frankly has been ever since.

Still, it was Edward who first proposed them getting together, because BoCo was that in the dark about engine romance back on the Mainland. He momentarily had been wondering if one of his many defects had been to be the first locomotive ever to desire a partner. It wasn’t so much that the Mainland in the late Fifties and early Sixties didn’t acknowledge engines having these kinds of feelings, it was just that BoCo’s one and only depot didn’t. And he had just grown in that stoic, stiff upper-lip bubble among his brothers to think the whole world ran by its rules.

[houseboatisland]

Thomas x Oliver

Interesting💙💚 :3c

By the time Thomas and Oliver first met, Oliver had been on Sodor for just about a year. Oliver was also essentially engaged to be married to Douglas, but both knew each other to be notorious flirts. Because they trust each other so much, they have a long-standing agreement to allow little flings on the side.

At this time, Thomas hadn’t had a steady partner for decades, the last time being James from the mid Twenties up until the famous Big Engine Strike of 1933. He had an incredibly short thing going on with Jinty until he went back to England, and his experimental kiss with Percy in 1933 could hardly be considered a relationship at all. Thomas was anxious, to put it mildly, to get back into romance, and Oliver turned out to be just his chance.

The first winter after Oliver was back in service, Sir Bertram Hatt I decided that Oliver would be best used elsewhere. Duck and one of the Scottish Twins could easily handle the Little Western alone in these months. One place Oliver found himself, and routinely has since, was the Ffarquhar Branch.

Thomas more or less sees Oliver, a trim new figure with a heroic backstory, and thinks “Target Acquired😳😍.” Oliver had heard about Thomas back in England when first plotting his escape to Sodor, and although what he heard amounted to “famous blue brat who gets into the FUNNIEST accidents, mate XD,” he was pretty intrigued when he met Thomas at last.

They immediately began swapping stories and cozying up to one another. Percy, Toby and Daisy are beside themselves seeing Thomas fawn over another engine for a change, and the dreamy expression he’s wearing as Oliver tells his story has to be saved to be believed, can someone with hands and a Super 8mm camera please do something about that.

Tidbits: Annie and Clarabel teased Thomas SO MUCH that first winter. Thomas was mad at Oliver for one week when he began pursuing Percy, who to Thomas’ fury, allowed Oliver and then some. This was quite silly because Thomas knew by now that Oliver was in an open yet committed relationship with Douglas, but he had yet to wrap his smokebox around that idea, and thus began to dislike what he didn’t understand, because Thomas.

He forgave Oliver at the end of that week though. From then on, Thomas and Percy managed a contest between themselves of who had kissed Oliver the most times.

Thomas spent that first Spring in which Oliver went back to his own branch utterly heartbroken. Percy, who as a former contractor’s engine moved from place to place, adjusted without a hitch.

Oliver still comes back every winter, and Thomas looks forward to it so terribly. They’ve continued this on again, off again relationship each year, although Thomas has gotten over his seasonal depressions every Spring.

(Yes, Thomas and Percy still compete to see who kissed Oliver the most. And yes, Oliver enables them endlessly, because he’s a sucker for that sort of thing, and attention in general.)

[houseboatisland]

all right, asking formally—how did Sodor come to be the first place where engines broke from their psychological chains and started romancin'? who were the first daring souls to claim marriage for their own? (*whispers* and was it arthur and ryan?)

Oooh, am I excited to answer this!

Sodor’s always been a natural leader when it comes to what railwaymen call “shedside manner.” Shedside Manner, revolutionary last century but commonplace to us, can simply be defined as “respecting machines beyond their status as machinery.” The Fat Director, for example, was leaps and bounds ahead of his Mainland counterparts for visiting his engines face-to-face, and especially for talking to them about things unrelated to work. The bigwigs at the Furness Railway or LMS would never tell him to his face lest it soured business, but they saw him as out of his noggin for this.

Engine discipline, (which was Mainland management’s only concern for engines after work and physical maintenance,) traditionally was delegated to someone lower, like a yard foreman. It was expected of them to be cold and uncompromising, even if the punished engine had been in the right all along. Because yard foremen were far more likely to be sympathetic to engines they worked with daily than their superiors, they would themselves face punishment if they were too lenient with engines they were responsible for. In many ways, engines were viewed merely as horses which happened to speak the same language that their masters did. The Fat Director, who we all know was no saint, calculated that this approach would be “bad for the bottom line,” in that engines would mature to become groveling, completely unable to think for themselves if their humans failed, and more delicate, not less, for their humans to work with.

This introduction made short: Sodor was always leaps and bounds ahead of other railways out of one man’s desire to make a cohesive workplace first, and a pleasant workplace second. Culturally this became the standard for Sodor, and still is today after decades of normalization. The desire, the NEED to just legitimately respect engines, has grown to match its original purpose: the desire and need to have functional engines as a result of this respect.

So, as this mindset took root after The Fat Director’s instigation, so too the concept of Shedside Manner began to be interpreted from perspectives beyond “happy engines = functional engines.” The Fat Director, like virtually all other railway controllers and conservative pockets of enginemen, viewed all engines as aromantic, if not out of legitimate belief, but instead an aversion to the idea that engines could compute romance. The Thin Clergyman felt the same way, going so far as to take liberties as he wrote his famous stories, to not include snippets that could indicate otherwise. Only after his death, and the publication of the long-guarded interview transcripts he referred to when converting “raw information” into readable narrative, have we learned of this self-censorship.

Accordingly, many non-Sudrian readers have sadly been convinced of the same. (😔)

We’ll never know who the first non-married vehicle couple was, Sodor or elsewhere. But archival evidence in the form of locomotive logbooks, pioneered and considerably utilized by the Great Western Railway, confirm that engines have always been capable of such emotions. We know this because records dating as far back as the 1850s reveal punishment of engines for pursuing relationships, and their humans documented this with palpable, dripping disgust.

“ Locomotives ‘Stewart’ and ‘Pollux’ are to be separated at the first convenience, and punished with Two Weeks’ Disuse alike. Such ‘magnetism’ between two Man Made objects will surely embarrass the company, and any passenger, gentleman or layman unfortunate enough to bear witness to such scenes will surely be repelled. It defies Christiandom that these objects should pursue any fulfillment beyond the serving of Man. I am, etc....”

So, the phenomenon of locomotives romancing has always existed, much as many would prefer to deny the reality of it beyond private writings. The SECOND Fat Controller, Sir Bertram Hatt I, (A/N: my own take on Sir Charles,) was a much more compassionate, empathic, and frankly less erratic head of the railway compared to his father. He took what his father taught him about Shedside Manner to heart, and felt especially compelled to delve deeper into the concept as he watched events unfolding on the Mainland’s railways from afar. Mass branchline closures, the death and rebirth of narrow gauge, locomotives being scrapped decades before their time, locomotives who were fell out of favor as ‘non-standard’ and were built poorly as policy was in flux, and the obvious example of dieselisation. Any such traumas needed to be avoided for his own engines and workers at all cost, and if that was impossible, for such traumas to be blunted.

It was Sir Bertram Hatt I who was the first controller, or first board member of the NWR or NW Region at all for that matter, who recognized that engines had the ability and right to pursue companionship of this kind. Sodor, which had gone through devolution and been allowed its own Parliament by the Attlee Government in 1946, has since seen several pieces of legislation debated and passed regarding Machine’s Rights, including their rights to marriage in 1969. Several “unions” had already been maintained secretly between engines, carriages and so on for years past, but now were able to be validated in the eyes of the law.

The first “married” machines were Edward and BoCo that same year. Same-sex human couples were never formally criminalized on Sodor historically, and had been de facto recognized on the Island as a result, so this was a non-issue between engines. Although there were some minor grumblings from engines such as James and Donald who objected to a steam engine marrying a diesel, (gender again was no object to either of them,) these were quickly swept aside as BoCo increasingly ingratiated himself with the other engines.

To answer that last bit: Arthur and Ryan first began working together in 1995, when Ryan was moved up to Harwick. He was initially bought to help at the Tidmouth Hump Yard, but was too much of a pushover with the trucks, so now he’s that branchline’s main passenger engine, with Arthur handling the fish trains and other goods work. It only took a year of passing each other in stations and sharing a shed to realize they were sweet on one another. They waited until the winter of 1997, when the Fishing Season had well and truly slowed down, to have their wedding. They exchanged vows as their fires were dropped, and fell happily, excitedly asleep by the light of the ash heap <3

[houseboatisland]

Have any thoughts on Dennis? (fair warning: I'm already getting a little obsessed with him, and if your answer is *too* good I might nick your ideas for Ex-Condor. you know. with credit. respectfully!)

Behold, a unit.

I honestly hadn’t until this ask of yours! But now I wanna give it my all. So, here goes!

I’m just gonna start off by saying it’s wrong of Dennis to carry the number 11001. For the rest of this post, just ignore it, and assume he’s “11002.”

In 1949, Ashford Works outshopped two diesel-mechanical locomotives, which became British Railways’ 11001 and 11002. They had been designed by the famous (and in many circles, infamous) Oliver Bulleid of the former Southern Railway. By 1949, Bulleid was in hot water with the young British Railways and the public in general for his reputation as a spendthrift who got his imagined locomotives built by dubious means. His Pacifics had been built during the war under the notion they could be mixed-traffic, (this was VERY untrue,) and his ongoing “Leader” development scheme was riddled with teething problems, all of which were built to the taxpayer after nationalization. It was under this cloud of scandal that 11001 and 11002 entered service.

The two unnamed brothers lived primarily at Norwood Shed, south of London. If they were to have further siblings built, they were intended for shunting duties and slow freight trains, undoubtably replacing tank engines in this current niche. Historians have failed to agree, but ‘01 and ‘02 are likely the first diesel locomotives built for British Railways, main line or otherwise. No further examples were built, however.

Growing up at the turn of the Fifties, ‘01 and ‘02 would have been absolutely surrounded by steam engines, who found them more amusing than a threat to themselves. British Railways was still running at a surplus, and there were plans for hundreds of steam engines of their own designs to be built in the coming years. Therefore, ‘01 and ‘02 were tolerated and even befriended by their steam coworkers. That would change, harshly.

January 1955. Word had gotten around among engines about a White Paper put together by the Government a month earlier. British Railways’ small profits at the beginning of the decade were gone. The company was now running at a deficit, costing more to run than what money it generated. The Government decided that to reverse this deficit by 1962, it would enact what it called its ‘Modernization Plan.’ The plan called for massive investments into the railway network and its rolling stock, to improve their competitiveness against the roads and win back lost clientele. This involved, among several other proposals, the wholesale replacement of steam engines with diesels and several main lines being electrified.

All eyes fell now on ‘01 and ‘02. They didn’t have a single steam friend in their corner now, and were treated not as friends but as enemies who had snuck in years earlier with this plan in mind the whole time. This obviously wasn’t true, but the steam engines were paranoid and powerless to stop what the company planned to do. The only course of action left, according to many steam engines, was to take this out on the diesels themselves. Other diesels in turn reacted by taking on an air of superiority and inevitable power against the outdated kettles they were now proud to replace. It can thus be said that the first real animosity between Steam and Diesel was in early 1955. ‘01 and ‘02 were in the thick of it all as it unfolded.

The two brothers, rather than join those diesels who decided to begrudge the steam engines in return, took no sides, instead becoming self-isolated and co-dependent on one another. This made any separation of the two terribly uncomfortable for both, and eventually led to them being bullied by fellow diesels as insufficiently hateful of steam engines.

By August 1959, ‘01 was out of service with a failed gearbox. ‘02 was still mechanically sound, having been used less, but was absolutely shattered by the loneliness of his brother being off the road. 1960 couldn’t have been grimmer for ‘02, when he learned ‘01 had been scrapped on New Year’s Eve at Ashford, and he himself didn’t have much time. As a non-standard engine, with scores of new diesel locomotives on the way, he was to be taken out of service as soon as could be arranged.

For a few months, ‘02 lingered in the Out of Use sidings at Ashford Works, surrounded by withdrawn steam engine also awaiting their demise and thrilled at the opportunity to mock a diesel for joining them on the way to the chopping block. To their shock, the Controller of the North Western Region, Sir Bertram Topham Hatt I, had turned up on a visit of inspection. He was searching for a small, slow engine to shunt his works at Crovan’s Gate. As ‘02 fit that bill, and was in need of little repair and historically significant, he was chosen. Bertram was at this time hoping to pad out his stock with older, now-endangered diesel engines as their times on the Mainland came up, and ‘02 was saved to the steam engines’ fury.

‘02, who took the name Dennis after his first driver on Sodor, began his new lease on life uncomfortably. He was surrounded by steam engines, which put him on edge enough, not to mention that several such as James were also hostile to diesels. This discomfort led to a few unfortunate mishaps, and the Works Foreman put Hatt on notice to find another engine for the job. Hatt naturally wouldn’t scrap Dennis, and searched high and low for a new line of work that could fit him.

It didn’t take long, and what he settled on suited Dennis to a tee. The Permanent Way Department had for a few years now wanted a diesel engine to run their trains for them. A diesel would be far better suited to long periods of waiting, and being able to start and stop at a moment’s notice. The job was more ideal still for Dennis in that it didn’t require an engine with train braking equipment. Dennis didn’t have this, and it was doubtful if another job with this same non-requirement would turn up soon. So, he was soon assigned to this.

Dennis came to relish the work, most of all because the workmen treated him as their own engine, not as a steam engine, nor even as an efficient diesel engine, but as Dennis. Some engines resent his new lease on life as dawdling between stations with the track gangs, but despite his reputation for it, Dennis is anything but “lazy.” He found a steady job, he found crews who appreciate what he does for them, and if it means sitting in station loops until it’s time to move, that’s not a rest, it’s legitimately part of his job. The resting’s just a small perk, so leave him be, eh?~

[houseboatisland]

Is Elizabeth on your island, and if so how has she adjusted after decades abandoned?

She is! And here's my headcanon for her:

Topham Hatt I, (The Fat Director,) had by 1926 accumulated a small fortune as General Manager of the North Western Railway. Reputed as a workaholic, (or boss-aholic,) Topham had sunk considerable amounts of money into his sprawling Wellsworth estate, Topham Hall. Topham was inspired by the undertaking of his sometime friend Sir Robert Walker, the Baronet of Sand Hutton. Walker's estate utilized war surplus one foot and three inch gauge locomotives to carry distinguished guests, agricultural produce, and coal to and bricks deriving from the nearby brickworks of Claxton.

The resulting pet project, the Topham Hall Railway, is where Elizabeth's story begins.

The T.H.R. was laid to what had essentially become the Sudrian "standard narrow gauge," of two feet and three inches. The line started from its Exchange Siding with Wellsworth Station, and made several crossings through the streets of that town's suburbs, before reaching the estate grounds. Hall Station brought passengers within a stone's throw of the mansion itself. Moving on, the line dove into the woods through a magical tree tunnel, with a spur at its opening for the engine and carriage shed. Crossing a brook over a three-span wooden trestle bridge, another station and a few sidings known as "Orchard Station" served the fruit and vegetable orchard. Another mile or so, and the railway stopped again for "Bowler's Station," where the Hatts and any guests could detrain for the estate's cricket pavilion.

Another half a mile, and the railway terminated at the Wellsworth Brickworks. This had been a puny operation before the THR linked up with it, employing only three men or so. After the railway's arrival, it expanded to employ a few dozen, and three more kilns were added. Throughout the Great Depression, Topham kept the Brickworks open and its employees onboard out of his own pocket, even as the bricks accumulated unsold. This was far more humanitarian than his treatment of NWR employees and three of his engines!

The railway had one locomotive, a royal purple Kerr Stuart 'Tattoo' class, named "Little Barford," technically a brother of the Mid Sodor Railway's No. 4, "Stuart." Little Barford arrived also with several v-tipper wagons, a dozen ex-War Department bogie wagons, four-wheel trucks and two ambulance vans. The ambulance vans were thoroughly rebuilt by the estate's woodshop to become an elaborate passenger coach, and a "Dining Car," which was quite identical save for the fewer seats and teeny gas cooker. The passenger coach saw constant use, but the Dining Car mostly sat in the siding at Bowler's Station as it cooked. The line was so short, it never could've done more than boil an egg while moving to timetable!

Capping off this complement of rolling stock was one Sentinel DG4 "Overtype" Steam Lorry, quickly named Elizabeth, after the Duchess of York's newborn daughter. Elizabeth was absolutely coveted by Topham, though he wasn’t exactly a steady hand at the wheel. Elizabeth was kept polished to perfection, even when her work involved carting such grubby loads as soil, clay, and coal. She was in every respect a "father's princess," but she worked dutifully and loved Little Barford like a twin brother. She also learned from her Victorian old master her favorite catchphrase, "We are/are not amused!" depending on the context.

The Second World War began in September 1939, and this national shift in priorities turned Elizabeth’s devil-may-care youth on its head. The Wellsworth Brickworks shuttered as many of its men volunteered or were called up, and housing construction all but ended. Little Barford was kept on at the Hall as the Ministry of Agriculture and Fisheries set to increase production on Topham Hall’s farms. Elizabeth on the other hand was, for the first time, moved away from her only home. As the civilian petrol rationing situation tightened, and private motoring was eventually banned, Elizabeth was suddenly very valuable as a coal-fired road vehicle.

She was commandeered and relocated to Tidmouth Harbour, working night and day as a dockside lorry. This was a very stressful period for her, for she was utterly friendless and out of her element. Although Sodor was never bombed, the routine blackout drills and stories of other ports destroyed, such as Liverpool, took their toll on her mentally. At some point however, she "bucked up." Elizabeth realized she was no longer an aristocrat's toy. For all she knew, Topham had probably forgotten her. As the military lorries she came face to face with daily were almost all of the internal-combustion type, who was to say that when, if ever the war was over, that he'd want her back if he remembered her?

In these circumstances, Elizabeth adopted her more familiar, stiff-upper lip personality. There was no time for polish or quaint little rides to the cricket pavilion, there was a war on! She became grubby, and liked to be grubby. She worked like the devil, and loved that even more. Her posh accent never left her, but she was now in every respect out to be a working girl. Elizabeth would never admit it to herself, but this huge change of self owed much to her upset at being removed from her only home. Did she legitimately like being a working lorry, rather than an estate owner's princess? Certainly she did. Was it an easy and completely voluntary change of character? Of course not. But it was done, and Elizabeth spent many nights assuring herself that it was the right path, the only path to have taken.

1945, the end of the war. Everyone was so jubilant. Elizabeth was cleaned and polished like a crown jewel, decked out with flags and bunting, and allowed to participate in the Tidmouth Victory Parade. In several colour newswreels of the event, you can spot her amid the cascade of tickertape and throngs of soldiers, nurses, longshoremen, civilians, tanks and lorries. It was no doubt a fun day for her, but now she thought a great deal about the future.

The war, which had been everything to her for six years, was over. Soldiers were being demobilized and coming home. Industries were retooling for the postwar world, to make consumer goods rather than several airplanes an hour. The Attlee Government, in conjunction with the devolved Sudrian Parliament established in 1946, had a grand vision for The Mainland and Sodor, where the welfare state for the long-suffering people and machines was vastly expanded, their jobs would be increasingly unionized and their bosses answerable to them, rather than the other way around.

Despite the historically harsh winter into the New Year of 1947, Sudrian workers, bouncing back much quicker than their Mainland counterparts, were delighted with PM Attlee's "New Jerusalem." Tidmouth Harbour was still very busy, as Sodor's biggest gate in and out for the world, and Elizabeth kept calm and carried on as time marched on. She was much busier than she had first feared, and that winter was her time to shine as so many petrol lorries were out of commission with "head colds." Elizabeth convinced herself, somehow, that these thousands and thousands of war surplus petrol lorries wouldn't take over. If so many had taken ill in these conditions, maybe Sodor, or even the whole world, would consider turning back the clock and restoring steam to the roads completely.

She feared and resented petrol lorries something terrible. When the petrol ration which had enabled her life all this time, was finally ended, she was heartbroken. Every worry she had seemed to come to pass all at once. First, the Tidmouth Harbour Authority decided it would be much cheaper to stack its fleet with war surplus lorries, and she was out of a job. Her next owner, a furniture mover, didn't keep her long, and neither did the next, a man who planned to fit her out as a bus and ran out of money.

By 1956, when the now-knighted Sir Topham Hatt I had died, Elizabeth had already been accumulating dust in a shed for two years. She never saw her last owner, who by now had failed to pay rent on her storage. Anopha Quarry, who owned the tumbledown little shack, seized her to make up the difference, but never once came to inspect the lorry who was now their property. Eventually, the Quarry forgot about her too.

It wasn't until 1961, when a little blue puffer deputizing for Toby on the Quarry Tramway carelessly had a coupling rod failure, that she reemerged. She made a heartstopping journey down the line for the necessary spare rod, pins, oilpot and tools in Ffarquhar Sheds, where she stirred up quite a scene, before an even more uncomfortable journey back. Elizabeth's Sentinel heritage thankfully preserved her for the whole ordeal, when Thomas' Driver, then at her wheel, worried that she'd explode and take him with her.

Back into the shed she went after this good deed, for how long, if ever to come out again, she didn't know. Until of course, that same night, a man very like her old Master, named Bertram just like his son whom she had given so many rides through the orchards and to cricket games, came to make a visit...

You can guess the rest :3

Sir Bertram Topham Hatt I was reunited with his childhood friend, and his father's favorite lorry. He immediately sent for her with his own money to be restored, and at once moved her back to Topham Hall, where she was herself reunited with the closest thing to a brother she'd ever had, Little Barford, who this whole time had been working as well as ever, and wondered why no one had ever gone to look for Elizabeth despite all his questions. It had been assumed, wrongly, that Elizabeth had perished on war service. That's how the Tidmouth Harbour Authority wrote it, after they pocketed her sale money! (Sir Bertram was LIVID not to get his hands on the now deceased Harbourmaster responsible.)

Elizabeth is now back to her childhood home hauling farm produce and any visitor willing to get dirty, for she still insists on carrying a bit of grime as a testament to her labours. The Wellsworth Brickworks has reopened, on a much smaller scale, as a "living museum," and Elizabeth takes great joy in carrying clay and coal again. Her, Little Barford, and Sir Bertram are now tighter than they've ever been, and Sir Bertram is the only man allowed to polish her. He's a much more sedated force at the wheel than his father, she notes, and quite often!

We ARE amused to see her <3

[houseboatisland]

Spotter's Journal: July 26th, 1975

No. 6 "Percy" and No. 11 "Oliver" resting between duties at Arlesburgh Harbour.

Been a hubbub of activity out here as usual. One of the Dock Police we met, (evidently a fellow rail nut,) filled us in. They're laying foundations for additional docks, even when most people are concerned with global trade shrinking. Right now the overflow sidings are packed with trucks full of boulders to get chucked into the water before the other stuff. Skeleton of a grain export terminal's also taking shape. Everyone we meet keeps saying "Welcome to Tidmouth Part Two!," clearly an in-joke.

Engines were happy to chat, as were their crews on tea break. We got out of them that there's a problem with a lorry firm involved with the work. Local council's complaining about lorries being too heavy for their roads and causing damage, haulier's refusing to pay and keeps referring them to Hatt.

There'll be some delays as Hatt offers for the railway to carry equipment instead of the lorries and these get rerouted. Hatt has offered to cover lost work-hours for the lorry drivers, (said in his conference that unlike his father he regularly votes Sudrian Labour,) and half the road repairs.

Percy and Oliver seem endlessly friendly, refer to each other only as "Purse" and "Olly."

Oliver says he's never worked in a Harbour before coming to Sodor, but is enjoying it "immensely." Percy told us that he "grew up" in places like this, being built for the Alexandra Docks and Railway in 1906. Plates in his cab, next to several others, (Percy's been rebuilt several times by as several owners,) confirm this.

Percy: "'M a regular jigsaw puzzle, me!"

Oliver laughs at this.

Oliver: "I've had a fun time solving you!"

They both laugh, and Jerry slaps my head to get us out of here before our bus.

He's still well cross about the kippers I left in the boot of his car.

[houseboatisland]

a little birdy told me to request Oliver x Percy headcanons. (yes, it was Dilly.)

Them~

Percy and Oliver meet about a year after Oliver's arrival and his immediate overhaul. The Little Western always slows down in winter, and Sir Bertram Topham Hatt I decided that Oliver would be one of several seasonal spare engines moving up and down the Island where needed.

Percy of course had heard of Oliver's daring escape even before he was out and about again. So by the time of their first meeting, Percy had been DYING to come face to face with him at last.

One of the places Oliver first was transferred to was the Ffarquhar Branch, and this has been a frequent relocation for him since. This post explains this more from Thomas' point of view.

Percy was absolutely bubbling when he met Oliver, and actually had to slow himself down, he was just spewing with questions and compliments. Oliver was impressed and charmed to say the least.

Oliver and Percy both have long histories of passing relationships. Before coming to Sodor, Percy was a contractor's engine moving from job to job. This made him very appreciative and affectionate of anybody he latched onto, knowing they'd only be together for a year or two at most. Oliver meanwhile had many flings along his journey north to Sodor on a whim, he didn't know what could happen tomorrow and wanted to live it up with whoever wanted to live it up with him.

Oliver as I've said becomes soulmates with Douglas, and they marry not long after his arrival. But both are very trusting of each other, and aware of each other's... hot-blooded nature, and allow one another to have their little side pieces.

Percy was already crushing on the idea of Oliver before they even met, but he's smitten with the real thing. Oliver's pretty taken with Percy too: he's cute, doesn't mind getting dirty, has a wonderful sense of humor, is cheeky to a fault, doesn't stand for being pushed around too much, and has the most adorable habit of stumbling upon big words. (Is that last bit an act? Only he knows :3 )

Oliver first proposes that they try "dating," and Percy is for lack of a better term floored, accepting immediately.

Thomas, who was also "dating" Oliver at this time, wasn't used to such an arrangement, being much less experienced romantically, and for a time was very jealous.

Percy and Oliver are constantly being affectionate, it's almost shameful. Winks and blown kisses passing each other in station loops. Kissing between trains in the sheds. Complimenting each other's green paint repeatedly as a joke. This last one, if no one knew better, could have been designed specifically to infuriate Thomas XD

Percy adjusts immediately when Oliver packs up for the Little Western in spring, unlike Thomas, who undergoes something of a seasonal depression which he doesn't shake off until that summer.

Percy and Oliver have had several opportunities to work together since, not merely Oliver's routine winter stays. Both are ideal to dockyard work, being four-coupled tank engines. In the summer of 1975, Arlesburgh Harbour was yet again expanding, and Percy was over the moon to be with Oliver yet again. This project took especially long because of a lorry dispute, and Percy and Oliver didn't mind a bit, more time to be together. It took until winter of that year for Percy to be released, after which Oliver was able to follow him back home! 1975 was thus a very special year for the two. They were attached at the hip (frames?) and stole many kisses watching the ships come in and out.

They like to use Toad as a messenger whenever they're apart. ("I say, Mr. Percy! Mr. Oliver told me to tell you he sends his love!")

[houseboatisland]

The Packard Construction Company is based in Killdane.

Jenny’s father, John, the company founder, had an excellent relationship with the second Fat Controller, Sir Bertram Topham Hatt I. Some of the company’s first big contracts were with the NWR, such as remodeling stations and replacing bridges. The NWR/Packard relationship has been around since the mid-Fifties, more or less when the PCC was founded really. Obviously the NWR can’t depend on the PCC for everything, but they often get first refusal on new projects. And the PCC in return appreciates the NWR lugging its vehicles from site to site.

The engines are all at least slightly familiar with who the PCC are, but sometimes struggle to remember names and faces. The PCC evidently goes through machines a bit quickly, either through resale or, less often, loss.

Soooo... who was the Packard Construction Company No. 11 before Jack replaced them?

My ideas so far:

Another digging machine, maybe a backhoe loader, (basically Jack but with a rear arm too.)

They got into a wreck and were beyond repair, and so Jack enters the picture. They were with the company when Jenny’s father ran the company, so she took the loss a bit personally. She held none of her feelings against Jack though, and instead wanted to give him the best opportunities she could to succeed. “Spot on, Jack! You’d make a mother proud!” Indeed.

I was a bit iffy on including The Pack in my canon at first, but now I’m dead set on it. The Packard Company has juuuust enough lore that you really get the motivation to fill in as many empty spots as you can.