Chapters It was Christmastime on the Island of Sodor. The sun shone, the snow fell, and Christmas Carols could be heard wherever you went upon that sceptred isle off the coast of Barrow.
Sadly, though, nobody was in the mood for celebration. Only a week ago, a mysterious Facebook account called ‘Anon-a-Miss' had started publishing personal information belonging to several people on the island, including information about leather bootlaces that James would have preferred to stay under wraps. Other reveals had included Sir Toppham Hatt’s apparent hat issues, and claims regarding the authenticity of Mrs Kyndley’s cake shop which were most distressing.
The whole affair had been designed to create the impression that Sunset Shimmer, a girl at Knapford Secondary School, was behind the affair. But it hadn’t been her at all.
It had been the Crusaders.
Scootaloo, Apple Bloom and Sweetie Belle had been the architects of the entire sorry affair, and only that morning had the truth come out. There was uproar in the school, to say the least.
“Ah did it outa jealousy,” Apple Bloom admitted. “Ah was jealous that mah sister was spendin’ so much time with Sunset Shimmer, so Ah posted that secret to make it look like it were her.”
“I felt the same way,” Sweetie Belle continued. “So one night, when they were asleep, I snuck in, and downloaded all of Sunset’s pictures and videos.”
“It got out of hand,” Scootaloo admitted. “People sent us stuff to post, and we couldn’t stop. We didn’t know what else to do!”
“We’re really, really sorry,” Apple Bloom said.
“We-we-” Sweetie Belle broke down into a fresh round of tears. “We never meant for this to happen!”
“Crocodile tears!” a student shouted from the audience.
“You should be ashamed of yourselves, Rainbooms!” shouted another.
“They deserve nothing but suffering!” cried one and all.
Headmistress Celestia took the microphone. “I can assure you that they will be appropriately punished. But encouraging violence is not the answer, I’m afraid. We are breaking school up early in light of this event. I wish you all, in spite of all that has happened, a very Merry Christmas.”
It wouldn’t be merry at all for three individuals.
At Knapford Station that evening, Duck sat in the platform with the evening train of MK1 coaches to Arlesburgh. The Pannier Tank simmered in the platform as he awaited the departure. Unlike most of the North Western engines, he was painted in Great Western Railway Swindon Green, complete with the company lettering on his tanks. He also bore the number plate 5741, which had carried since he was built in 1927. He was a good dependable runner, even if he was a bit stuck in his old ways and insisted on doing things a certain way.
Suddenly, a crowd of people burst onto the platform. The usual school let-out. But what was odd was the sheer number of people on the platform. There was an absolute throng of people on the platform, shouting and jeering.
“What is going on?” asked Duck, with a confused look on his face.
“Haven’t you heard?” a passenger told him. “They’ve finally outed Anon-a-Miss!”
Duck, to be totally honest, had not been especially following the case at all. But he decided to contribute as best he could. “Who was it?” he asked.
“Apple Bloom, Scootaloo and Sweetie Belle!” the passenger replied. “Now those three will get what they deserved!”
Duck was certain he had misheard what had been said, but simply said, “Well, it was most improper of them. As I say, there’s the Great Western Way, or the-”
Gordon suddenly whooshed through on the express, interrupting him. “Poop poop!” the big pompous A0 called. “Three cheers for the end of Anon-a-Miss!”
Several other engines started whistling as well, producing an absolute cacophony in the process, combined with the noisy crowd.
Duck was suddenly very nervous. He imagined that people would be keen to take matters into their own hands, and the last thing he wanted was a punch-up on his train. It would never do!
Just then, four individuals appeared on the platform. Duck immediately recognised one of them as his old friend, Apple Bloom, whom he saw regularly. This was because she lived down his branchline, and he usually pulled the train she was on to and from school. Their farm, Sweet Apple Acres, was in Arlesburgh, and Duck had regularly helped with pulling the many trains of 12-ton vans required to move the apples they produced each and every year. As a result, he had become used to the family, especially the youngest member, who would often help him out on busy days. Duck smiled as he remembered the good old days of adventures up and down his branchline on the Sudrian coast. But those days were gone now.
Granny Smith stepped over to him. “Well, hello mister Duck!” she said. “Our youngest one’s got herself into a mighty pickle, as you’ve no doubt heard.”
“Fleeting remarks, yes,” the Pannier Tank replied, looking concerned. “But how does this concern me?”
Applejack joined them, whilst Big Mac kept Apple Bloom restrained. “We need a train in order ta get her home without getting' hurt.”
“Ya mean getting' hurt now,” Apple Bloom remarked.
“Silence!” Big Mac snapped. In many ways he was like the Fat Cont-
“Sir Toppham Hatt to you!” Duck snapped.
“Sorry, what?” asked Granny Smith.
“Just talking to the narrator, that’s all. Why, you can use the compartment right next to me!”
“Thank ya kindly Duck,” Applejack replied. “Now get in there!”
Apple Bloom needed no prompting, and the family soon climbed aboard. The guard put on a ‘Reserved’ notice, to prevent anybody else from getting onboard. The passengers scrambled into the other compartments, and the guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag.
Duck pulled away as smoothly as he could, producing a solid Collett bark as he did so, rolling toward Arlesburgh.
Meanwhile, on the other side of the island, Oliver was pulling a train of SECR Birdcage coaches. The 14xx was also painted in GWR Green, but this time with the ‘shirt-button’ logo and the number plate 1466. He was down on Edward’s Branch Line to the sea at Brendam, as he was helping to cover a locomotive shortage. BoCo, who would normally be working here, had to get his traction motors replaced, and as a result he was being used down on the line. He didn’t mind the change in scenery one bit, and it meant he got to see more of his friend Scootaloo. The purple-haired girl shared his own love of speed, and they had become close over the years. He always looked forward to them coming over to the Little Western, even if it was simply to chat with them, or in some cases help them with their work.
Duck rolled along the coast, taking in the sea views and beautiful vistas. Ever since being rescued from scrap in 1969, he considered himself truly lucky to be living on such a beautiful island as Sodor. He steamed through a tunnel, and arrived at long last at Brendam station. This was situated in the heart of the docks, where giant cranes and large ships resided, bringing in cargo that couldn’t be brought in at Tidmouth.
The doors on his carriages opened, and Oliver quickly ran into the run-round loop in order to position at the other end of the train. When he had finished backing up, he coupled onto the other end of the train, to see Scootaloo standing there.
“Hello Scootaloo!” the engine said. “Why so glum?”
“I was part of Anon-a-Miss,” she sighed. “I don’t think I’ll be let out of the house in a while.”
“Not even to see me?” Oliver asked. “Because surely they will understand that interaction matters?”
Oliver’s enquiry soon answered itself, as a pair of women stormed up the platform. Oliver immediately identified them as Aunts Lofty and Holiday. He knew them well enough to know they were absolute terrors.
“Whatever were you thinking?” one of them boomed. “Don’t think you’ll go unpunished for this!”
Scootaloo quaked in her boots, shivering in spite of the winter clothing she wore. “Y-yes Aunt Lofty!” she squeaked.
“You’re grounded and not permitted to see anyone!” the other woman boomed.
Oliver had had enough. They reminded him of the diesel hydraulics that had lorded it over him shortly before he was withdrawn. “Surely you’ll let her come to the platform to have a chat with me now and then?” he asked. “Having nobody to interact with is bad for human development.”
“I did not ask your opinion, tinplate!” Lofty snapped.
“I’m from Somerset,” Oliver replied flatly.
“Let’s go,” Holiday said, pulling Scootaloo’s arm so fiercely it nearly came out of its socket.
“Bye Oliver!” the girl called back.
But Oliver was worried.
That night, he returned to his shed in Tidmouth, to find Duck and Stepney, an LBSC A1X, waiting there.
“Good evening Oliver!” Stepney called.
“It’s not a good evening at all,” said Oliver.
“I know,” Duck added flatly.
“What do you mean?” the Terrier asked.
“Our friends are being grounded and isolated,” Duck said. “I dread to think what they are doing to poor Apple Bloom in that farm. They’re probably going to work her until she can barely stand!”
“And Scootaloo is being banned from seeing anyone,” Oliver added. ”She’ll go mad!”
“I don’t think it’ll be that bad,” Stepney said. “I imagine they’ll be punished for the holidays, and then all will be back to normal.”
“I only hope so,” Duck noted.
“Me too,” Oliver sighed.
And so, the three engines drifted off to an uneasy sleep.
Stepney rolled down the line the next morning, resplendent in LBSC Improved Engine Green. Like the others, he had survived scrap and ended up here. He was fairly close to Sweetie Belle, as she had helped restore his paintwork that time after the collision with the sugar truck, and they had bonded from then on.
As he rolled into the platform with his train of Stroudley four-wheelers, he saw a mountain of baggage being loaded into the guard’s van of the Wild Nor’Wester. Standing next to it was Rarity and Sweetie Belle.
Stepney whistled to them. “Good morning!” he called. “How are you?”
Rarity walked over. “We’re just loading Sweetie Belle’s bags.”
“Where’s she going?” asked Stepney.
The younger girl walked over. “I’m being sent to the mainland,” she said sadly. “Our parents have decided that Scootaloo and Apple Bloom are bad influences on me, and I’m to live there until graduate.”
Stepney was shocked. “But what about life on Sodor?” he asked.
“I’ll probably never see you again,” she said sadly.
You could see the fire in Stepney’s eyes go out. “You can’t do this!” he snapped at Rarity.
“It’s for her own good,” the fashionista flatly replied.
“How is it good to tear someone from the only place they’ve known, and from their friends, and send them to live somewhere with nothing but fear and hate?”
“You seemed to cope pretty well,” Rarity said sardonically.
The Terrier was lost for words. “But-but-you can’t!” he stammered, as his eyes started to brim with tears.
The guard suddenly blew his whistle.
“That’s your cue!” Rarity shouted.
Sweetie Belle was crying too. “Goodbye Stepney!” she sobbed. “I’ll miss you!” She climbed aboard the train.
Gordon sounded his whistle, and pulled away from the station.
Gordon soon vanished into the distance, and Rarity walked away. “I hope we never see her again,” she snapped, and walked off.
For the poor Terrier it was too much, and he collapsed into tears. “No!” he whimpered. “I’m being torn from my family again!”
“She did bad things,” said a person next to him.
“But families are supposed to forgive and forget!” Stepney protested. “Are they really so stone-hearted they cannot see she regretted her actions?”
“Of no relevance to us,” the person said. “I’m just glad she’s gone.”
When Stepney returned to the shed that night, he spoke to the others.
“You were right,” he said. “They’ve been separated.”
“What are we going to do?” asked Oliver.
“They’ll go mad without one another,” Duck solemnly noted.
“I have a plan,” said Stepney. “This is what we shall do...”
Author's Note
Well, here goes the first ever Anon-a-Miss/TTTE crossover ever...
Oliver puffed to the junction at Wellsworth the very next day. Much like yesterday, it was cold and bitter, with snow everywhere you looked. Oliver had mixed feelings about snow. On the one wheel, it was pretty and brought in passengers. On the other wheel, the silly soft stuff could make trains late, or worse catch them in snowdrifts!
Thomas had found that one out the hard way once, and had to be towed out with a tractor. It had been most embarrassing for him.
“I suppose we’ve all done things we’re not proud of," he thought, as he rolled to a stop in the platform. This caused his mind to return to the Anon-a-Miss fiasco.
Whilst what those three girls did was stupid and petty (Oliver had no doubt at all of that fact), was isolation, a regime of hard work and exile on the mainland really proportionate? His mind flashed back to earlier that morning, when he had spoken with Sir Toppham Hatt about the matter...
Sir Toppham Hatt was busy adjusting the decorations with the help of Sunset Shimmer.
“There, that should do it!” he said, in his broad Yorkshire accent.
“Thanks for inviting me to help decorate the station, Sir Toppham Hatt,” Sunset said, “even after all the rumours flying about.”
“I never suspected you at all,” Sir Toppham Hatt replied. “Why did you think you kept getting special deals in the station cafeteria, or the reduced fares ?”
A look of realisation hit Sunset’s face. “Thank you, sir! ” she exclaimed, and headed outside. There, her friends, colloquially referred to as ‘The Rainbooms ’, were helping with decorations.
Rarity was affixing a star to the top of the tree, which gleamed with golden intensity and created a beautiful reflection on the rails. “Beautiful, if I do say so myself,” she smiled.
Applejack, meanwhile, was putting apples into baskets for visitors. They were large, and red, and juicy, and no doubt would be most appetising to the passengers. “Well, this apple collectin ’ was sure hard, but Ah have ta say it were worth it,” she said, looking satisfied.
Rainbow Dash and Pinkie Pie were racing each other as to who could put up the most tinsel, which were draped from the station canopy and gas lights, as well as Santa’s grotto (the big man himself had since decamped to the North Pole, and today was the last day that letters to Mr C could be delivered).
Fluttershy was busy arranging a display of animals around the tree, which looked most rustic and yet lifelike, proudly stood around the crib with the Baby Jesus lain inside, with his mother and father sat proudly, looking down on their son.
“All this merriment,” Oliver thought, “to celebrate the birth of a baby. Oh well, I know some people aren’t living the season”. As he rolled to a stop, he whistled loudly; so loudly in fact, the star fell off of the top of the tree and landed on Applejack’s head!
“Ow!” the farm girl exclaimed. “Watch what yer ’ doin ’ Rarity!”
“It was that whistle that knocked it clean!” the fashionista replied. “I thought it looked most fabulous.”
Oliver was baffled. How could they have been so angry over the last two days, and yet be so cheerful now? They were acting as if nothing had happened. Sometimes he just didn’t understand humans. He spoke up. “Excuse me girls, but have you seen Sir Toppham Hatt anywhere?”
“He’s in his office,” Rainbow Dash said. “But I think he is very busy, given all the winter traffic and the parcels we need to deliver to the North Pole.”
“It sure looks like Christmas!” Pinkie Pie added. “We get a lot of business at Sugarcube Corner.”
“That’s in Tidmouth ,” Fluttershy added. “The dockworkers appreciate the food and drink in this weather.”
Just then, Sir Toppham Hatt appeared, with a festive smile on his face. “Good morning Oliver!” he called. “I hope you are having a happy Christmas Eve!”
“Truth be told, I’m not,” the 14XX replied.
“What’s with the long face, huh?” Pinkie Pie asked.
“Why are you sad Oliver?” Sir Toppham asked him.
“Because I know three individuals on this island are not having a happy Christmas Eve,” Oliver said sadly. “And if they are not happy, I’m not.”
Fluttershy did look worried. “Oh dear, what happened to Dulcie and Mirabel?” Dulcie and Mirabel were a pair of auto-coaches used on the Arlesburgh branch line, and were closely associated with the line.
“That’s two,” Rarity pointed out. “I think I know which detestable swine he’s referring to.”
The other girl’s faces darkened. “Oh,” said Applejack darkly, with a sound of disgust in her voice. “Anon-a-Miss.”
Sir Toppham Hatt stepped forward. “I know that you were friends with them, but I’m afraid that they did something wrong.”
“I’m aware of that,” Oliver tried to continue, but was interrupted by Applejack.
“ Mah sister is getting' her just deserts!” she snapped. “It were unacceptable ta do that!”
“So is forgetting the spirit of the season!” Oliver protested. “Besides, you’ve isolated people at the very time they are meant to come together!”
“Just like they made us come together?” Rainbow Dash asked, a visible tone of anger in her face. “They held us apart and made us look like fools for the sake of a slumber party!”
“ So, you hold them apart?” Oliver answered. “An eye for an eye? I know they call you the Element of Honesty, but maybe you should be the Element of Hypocrisy!”
He turned his anger on Rarity. “And you. Tearing somebody from all they’ve ever known, all because of some tweets. Well, Trump did the same, and they didn’t ban him from America, did they?”
“They’re a bad influence on each other,” Pinkie Pie said. “If we allowed them to stay together, how would we have stopped them from doing something like this again?”
“Oh, I don’t know, disconnect their internet, give them pay-as-you-go phones?” Oliver was truly annoyed. “Besides, the workers back on the GWR though the hydraulics were a bad influence, and that didn’t stop BR from shedding them alongside us!”
Sir Toppham Hatt raised his voice. “Silence!” he bellowed. “Look Oliver, I appreciate you cared for them, as did Duck and Stepney, but this matter is outside of my control. It is for the parents and the school to decide such matters, and as a result I’ll hear no more about this entire sorry affair.” He walked back inside his office.
Oliver sat there, shocked. He thought that, of all people, Sir Toppham Hatt would understand how he felt. But he truly was alone in this regard, and looked about him.
“I hope you understand,” Sunset said finally.
“I do,” Oliver replied darkly. “I understand what a terrible mistake you’re making.” And he puffed away without so much as a second thought.
So, there he was now, with only the bitter cold and grey skies to comfort him. He pulled to a stop to see a familiar sight sitting in the bay platform.
“Hello Oliver!” called BoCo.
BoCo was a British Railways Class 28 diesel, who had arrived in 1957 on trial. Apart from getting off to a rocky start with Bill and Ben, he had become a dependable member of the loco fleet. His nickname stemmed from the fact that he had 6 wheels on one bogie, and 4 on the other. This meant the routes he could use varied on what direction he was going, which was a problem as his face was on the 6-wheel end. As a consequence, for the most part he couldn’t see where he was going. Now one of only two left in existence, he was a valuable addition to Edward’s Branch Line, given how many trucks he could pull.
“Nice to see you BoCo!” Oliver replied.
“So, what has been happening whilst I’ve been away?” BoCo asked.
Oliver told him the whole story of that Christmas, including the fiasco surrounding Anon-a-Miss. He spared no expense.
“And it saddens my firebox to know that three friends are not getting a Christmas this year,” he finished.
BoCo was deep in thought. “You’re right,” he said finally. “Christmas is a time of forgiveness and family, not petty jealousy and anger.”
“So, you agree with me?” Oliver asked.
“I most certainly do,” BoCo said. “After all, I forgave the twins for the stunt they pulled on me at Brendam Docks in 1957, so I’d be a total hypocrite not forgiving them for what amounts to a misjudged act.”
“If we are going to rescue Scootaloo from the clutches of her aunts,” Oliver continued, “we need a plan. Can you secure me some vans?”
BoCo smiled. “There’s a shipment of vans coming in from Tidmouth this evening. I’ll position them in the siding. Will you need a brake van?”
“No, I’ll be bringing Toad.”
Oliver continued his journey down the line, and rounded the bend. He arrived at last at Brendam Station, and stopped in the platform. He glanced up at one of the houses and suddenly saw someone looking out of the window toward the line. It was Scootaloo!
Oliver uncoupled from his train and let off three short, sharp whistle blasts. This was the signal. The window above him rolled open, and the girl popped her head out.
“What is it Oliver?” she asked. “Be quick, I’ve no idea when my aunts get back!”
“I have a plan to end your misery and give you a Merry Christmas,” Oliver smiled. “We’ll do it tonight.” And then he told her the entire plan.
“Are you sure you can pull it off?” the girl asked.
“If I can escape from scrap,” Oliver smiled, “I can get you out of here.”
“Good because-great Royal Scots, their back!” Scootaloo dropped her window, and Oliver continued his runround as quickly as he could.
Coupling onto the other end of the train, he could see Whiff backing up onto a rake of 10 13-ton plank wagons.
“Hello Oliver!” Whiff called. “They still have you working down here?”
“BoCo only just returned today,” Oliver explained. “I’m still needed until tomorrow. Say, where are those wagons going?”
“They’re going to the waste dump,” Whiff replied. “I have no idea why though, it’s a waste of perfectly good presents if you ask me.”
Oliver was shocked. “Presents?!” he exclaimed.
“Yes,” Whiff continued. “There’s also a computer in there, for some reason.”
Oliver did not like the sound of this. “Could you take those to Tidmouth rather than the waste dump?” he asked.
Whiff smiled. “Well, I suppose some wagons could ‘get lost’,” he said finally.
Twas the Night Before Christmas, and all through the ‘view,
Not a creature was stirring,
Except Scootaloo.
In the middle of the night, she got out of bed, and pulled some clothing on to keep her warm. She slung her backpack on, and slipped out of the front door with her scooter. Her aunts had hosted a Christmas Party (which she wasn’t allowed to, no surprises there) and had ended up very, very drunk. They were firmly passed out upstairs, so they wouldn’t have noticed her leaving. However, Scootaloo had made sure to lock the door behind her so they wouldn’t suspect anything.
She scooted down the street at speed, noting that they were almost deserted. There was no sound either, apart from Bill (or Ben) shunting the last wagons around the yard before business concluded on Christmas Day.
But she wasn’t aiming for either of them. For sitting in the docks was Oliver, coupled to a train of vans with Toad coupled to the back.
“I’m not sure this was a good idea Mr. Oliver,” Toad said.
“Keep it down!” Oliver snapped back. “We’re saving Christmas!”
Scootaloo spoke up. “I’m here Oliver.”
“Good,” Oliver replied. “Please climb into the brake van, and we can get going.”
Scootaloo climbed aboard, and laid down on the floor of the brake van.
Each van was marked as being loaded with presents. Oliver puffed forward with a groan, and the heavy train got moving at last out of the docks.
But trouble lay ahead.
The dockside inspector waved his arm, signalling them to stop the train. Oliver applied his brakes and came to a sudden halt in front of the inspector.
“Halt!” the inspector called. “What are you doing with that cargo?”
“This train of vans contains presents for the children of the Sodor Orphanage,” Oliver explained, giving his cover story. “It has only just arrived from the North Pole.”
The inspector looked unconvinced. “We weren’t expecting a shipment this late in the day!” he exclaimed.
“It got help up,” Oliver answered, fudging his way through as best he could. “But would you really want to disappoint those children?”
The inspector nodded. “I’ll need to inspect the vans first.”
The inspector and his crew slid the doors open, and checked every van, to indeed find them full of presents. “Well”, he said, “everything seems to be in order. On your way!”
OIiver whistled, and pulled away with his train into the night. His lantern illuminated the gloom as he steamed triumphantly along the branch line, and joined the main line at Wellsworth, after having let the late-running return Flying Kipper run through.
As he steamed triumphantly into Tidmouth yard, shunting his trucks as he did so, the clock struck 12. It was Christmas Day.
He backed into his shed road, and Scootaloo hopped off. “Thanks for your help,” she said.
“No problem,” Oliver replied. “There’s a bunk over there if you wish to sleep.”
The girl needed no prompting, and fell into a deep slumber almost immediately.
“Now then,” thought Oliver, "I wonder where Duck and Stepney have got to?”
Author's Note
There's the first big chapter down. Next one up tomorrow morning!
Duck and the Great Escape
The evening prior...
When Stepney and the other engines of the Little Western had returned to the shed, the bigger engines had noticed their long faces.
“Whatever is the matter Duck?” asked Edward, an old and wise Furness Railway K2 ‘Larger Seagull’.
“It’s Christmas in two days!” exclaimed James. “How can you have such a sombre expression your faces?”
“You might be enjoying Christmas, but we’re not,” Stepney sighed.
“Why-ever not??” Henry enquired.
“Because our friends aren’t,” Oliver replied.
Suddenly, Gordon waded in. “Are you talking about those three despicable girls who made a laughing stock of ME?!”
Toby snorted. “You’re not exactly perfect in that regard Gordon. Remember that incident with Neville?”
Gordon was suddenly very silent.
“Please tell us!” said Percy.
"I was down in Brendam today,” Oliver explained, “and I saw that Scootaloo had been confined to her room with no opportunity to leave the house, not even for air or conversation.”
The engines gasped in shock.
“Good heavens!” exclaimed Henry. “Why would they carry out such an act?”
Duck continued. “When I passed by Sweet Apple Acres near Arlesburgh, I observed three individuals in the house acting as if nothing had happened, and there was Apple Bloom out in the snow all on her own, being made to move stuff about until her legs fell off!”
“WHAT CHEEK!” spluttered Gordon. “Fancy them overloading an individual. It’s like asking a Tank Engine to pull the Express!”
“I know, I know,” Toby sighed.
“What about you Stepney?” asked Edward. “How is Sweetie Belle fairing?”
“She has it worst, I’m afraid,” the terrier replied. “Only today was she packed off on the Wild Nor’Wester and sent to the Mainland to live with her parents!”
“I can’t imagine what it would be like!” Percy cried. “It must be like being trapped in a tunnel with no coal or water!”
“Don’t remind me,” Henry moaned.
“But,” Duck said, “we have a plan to end this state of affairs.” And he told the others his plan.
Edward suddenly spoke up. “I’m not going to interfere with your plan, but I have to say I think you will simply make things worse.”
“Did you not here what they just said?” boomed Gordon. “Those families have clearly lost the Christmas spirit! Families are supposed to forgive and forget one another, just I forgave you for making me stall on the Hill!”
James spoke up next. “I thought the entire point of Christmas was that it was a time of peace and forgiveness, not jealousy and petty anger. How is what the families are doing better than what they did?”
“And by keeping them apart,” Henry finished, “they are making a terrible mistake. Even Sir Toppham Hatt wasn’t that cruel during the Engine Strike. Why, it’s dis-dis-”.
“Disgraceful!” said Gordon.
“Disgusting!” put in James.
“Despicable!” finished Henry.
Edward sighed. “At the same time, these families need to be given a chance to calm down. From what I’ve been able to pick up of the incident, the trust those girls had in their families has been destroyed. Trust is like a piece of paper; once you have folded it, you cannot make it flat again no matter how hard you try. My driver once had a falling out with a friend, who told him that, no matter what, he couldn’t ‘fix his broken plate’.” The old engine paused. “I asked him what he meant, and he told me this story.”
And so, Edward began.
A mother had a son who had an extremely bad temper. He would often do or say some extremely hurtful things, after which he seemed truly repentant. No matter what the mother did, she could not get the child to think before he reacted. One day while washing dishes, she had a great idea. She called her son into the room with her and handed him a plate. “Throw that plate on the ground” she instructed the young man. After some encouragement, the young man did as he was told.
As expected, the plate broke into several pieces. “Now let’s glue this plate back together” the mother said, so they worked together for quite some time and had the plate looking pretty close to its original state, although a few cracks and chips were still visible. “Now say you’re sorry to this plate,” the mother said.
The child looked confused but saw that his mother was serious. So, he said his apology. “Now is the plate good as new?” the mother asked. The child shook his head no, because although it was back together, it would never look the same.
The mother went on to explain that is what we do to the hearts of our loved ones when we are angry. Although the pain can be mended and apologies can be given, the relationship will never be able to be put back together the same again.
The other engines murmured in approval. But they were not convinced.
Gordon was the first to speak. “But you cannot put the relationship back together if you are not prepared to start out on that road. These families are clearly not prepared to do this.”
Percy spoke next. “Remember how Sir Toppham Hatt forgave us for spreading those rumours about Harold? If he can extend the olive branch, so can they!”
“And the treatment is unacceptable!” added James. “Even if they did say horrible things about my shiny red paint.”
Edward spoke again. “Whilst I do agree that the punishment is excessive, it is clear that those three did something that was out of line. They made Sunset feel like a social pariah. And all out of petty jealousy, when they could have simply talked to their siblings about it. But I am disgusted at the hypocrisy of the students who submitted secrets and blamed Sunset for it at the same time. In short, I do not agree with what you have planned, but I will not try to stop you.”
Thomas spoke up. “So, what shall we do? We need to make this right.”
“We could try a strike,” Gordon noted.
“That worked so well last time, didn’t it?” James snorted.
“Duly noted,” Henry replied.
Percy’s face suddenly lit up. “I’ve got it!” he cried. “We’ll try it tomorrow.”
Christmas Eve...
Shortly after Oliver had left, Applejack looked at her watch. “Well, Ah’d better be getting' back ta the farm,” she said. “Need ta see how everyone’s getting' on.”
She crossed the footbridge just as the Arlesburgh train was coming in, pulled by Duck. But just as she got to the train, and prepared to open the carriage door, Duck suddenly accelerated away into the distance.
“What in tarnation?” she asked. “There ain’t another train for another hour!”
Rainbow Dash had crossed over to platform 1, and looked down the line. There was Duck speeding off into the distance.
Then she heard a distinctive 3-cylinder beat in the distance. This was followed by a loud whistle, and the familiar sight of Gordon the Big Engine approaching on the express. The train rattled and roared toward them. Rainbow Dash smiled. The Down Wild nor’Wester called here, on its way to Vicarstown, and she usually took it to get to her hometown of Wellsworth. It was quick way to travel, even if it did require a change of trains.
But as the train approached, it showed absolutely no signs of slowing down. Gordon roared through the station at well over 70 miles an hour, whistling loudly as he did so. “No service for hypocrites!” he shouted, flying through and vanishing into the distance.
Rainbow Dash was confused. “Maybe it’s a new timetable?” she asked. This was frustrating, as it meant she had to take the slow train to Wellsworth, and that stopped everywhere. She took out her phone and dialled her parents.
Fluttershy had left before the others to help at Crosby Animal Sanctuary, where she cared for many different animals. Amongst them were hamsters, guinea pigs, gerbils, and rabbits. There was one she was especially close to, Angel, that was the closest thing she had ever known to a pet.
But her shift was over, and she wanted to get back to her parent’s house at Cronk. There she would be spending Christmas Eve, before she and her friends met up on the day itself for a day of happiness and merriment in the town square of Knapford.
She heard a whistle in the distance, and approaching in the distance was Henry. He was pulling a long, slow train, and eased to a stop with his vans in the Crosby station platform, as the train in front of him had got into difficulties and was having trouble ascending Gordon’s Hill.
Fluttershy walked over to greet the Black 5. Both of them were fairly shy, and had bonded over a collective kindness and love of nature. But what came next shocked her.
Just as she opened her mouth, Henry whistled loudly. “So, I’ve finally seen your true colours, have I?”
Fluttershy was taken aback. “Erm, excuse me, but I don’t follow,” she said.
“They call you the element of kindness,” Henry fumed, “and yet you only apply it selectively. You can be very cruel when you want to.”
“Is this about Sunset?” Fluttershy asked. “Because-”
“Because nothing!” the Stanier 4-6-0 interrupted. “When is it ever acceptable to break someone’s heart and leave them crying on the cold tiles of Knapford Station? Whenever is it acceptable to fail to stand up against injustice?”
“The Crusaders did do something that was wrong, Henry,” Fluttershy reasoned. “They posted a lot of hurtful stuff and should be punished for it.”
“So, it is acceptable to tear them apart, just as they tore you apart?” Henry thundered. “Two wrongs do not make a right, Fluttershy! Especially when it comes to family!”
“I’m not-”
“Willing to show compassion, given the tough time they have been through? By acting in this hateful manner toward them, you will simply distance them from their siblings even more.”
There were tears in Fluttershy’s eyes as she realised the true meaning of Henry’s words. “No, I-I'm so-”
Just then the signal changed. Henry snorted. “If this sort of attitude remains, then I’m afraid this is the end of our friendship. Merry Christmas.”
He stormed away into the distance, as Fluttershy dropped down onto the platform and wept. “What have I done?”
Pinkie Pie had since travelled back to Tidmouth to await some much-needed supplies for Sugarcube Corner. They were supposed to be arriving at the docks and moved by rail to the closest siding. As she stood at the siding, she noticed Percy pulling four trucks toward her.
“ARE THOSE THE SUPPLIES I ORDERED?” she asked.
Percy didn’t reply, and came to a stop. “Element of Laughter, eh?” he said. “I bet the only laughing you did was behind the backs of everyone this season!”
“If this is about Anon-a-Miss, then-”
“The way you treated the Crusaders was totally unnaceptable!” Percy snapped back. “As you can see, I brought you something for your actions.”
Pinkie Pie smiled. “Oooh, lovely, the supplies I ordered!” She pulled of the tarpaulin, and her eyes widened in horror.
The trucks were not filled with icing, cooking supplies, or batter. They were filled with coal!
“I can’t make a cake with coal!” she protested.
Percy uncoupled from the train. “Merry Christmas,” he said, as he backed away. “The cooking supplies will go to someone who deserves them this holiday season.”
He vanished around a bend and further into the docks. Pinkie’s hair deflated.
“Wow, the narrator must really dislike us!” she said.
Elsewhere, Rainbow Dash had got part of the way home, and decided to flag the Wild Nor’Wester again.
As it approached, Gordon spotted Rainbow Dash waving, and smiled.
As the trains rattle through Marron, they must pass over a set of water troughs. These can be very messy, and produce a lot of spray.
Gordon noted this, and saw it as a perfect opportunity. Just as he charged into the troughs, he dropped his water scoop and roared past. The water flew up into the air, and onto the platform-soaking Rainbow Dash from head to toe!
“I hope you get the message now!” shouted Gordon.
Rainbow Dash shook her head. “What’s going on?”
That evening, Sunset waited at Knapford Junction for her train to Ffarquhar. She had lived on Thomas’ branch line for many years, and as a result knew the blue tank engine fairly well. She smiled as he came to a stop in the platform. “Evening Thomas!”
Thomas didn’t reply. He looked cross. “I’m ashamed of you!” he snapped.
“Why?” Sunset asked, visibly confused.
“This whole affair, Anon-a-Miss!” Thomas said. “How could you do that?”
“I was the victim!” Sunset protested. “It was they who did it!”
“And they left you crying on the floor, begging for mercy,” Thomas sighed. “And yet you were unwilling to show the Crusaders mercy when they begged you for mercy and forgiveness. That’s simply plain hypocritical!”
Sunset lost her temper. “YOU DON’T KNOW THE HALF OF IT THOMAS! THOSE THREE GIRLS WRECKED MY LIFE! THEY DESERVE TO SUFFER THE WAY THEY ARE!”
Thomas looked totally unphased. “So, it’s petty revenge you seek, eh?” he answered. “You haven’t changed at all!”
Just then, the guard’s whistle went, and Thomas steamed away into the distance with his train.
Sunset was left with her own thoughts. “What have I done?” she asked.
Meanwhile, Duck was steaming along his branch line, and passed Sweet Apple Acres with his vans. As the siding for the farm was set up in the Up direction, he had to travel onward to Arlesburgh, run around, and pull them back in order to shunt them into the siding. He would then take them on to be marshalled at Arlesburgh yard.
He pushed his trucks into the siding and sure enough saw Apple Bloom carrying a crate over to the loading dock. Well, carried is the wrong word. It was more of a cross between dragging and stumbling. She reached the dock, completely out of breath, and pulled her woolly hat off her head.
“Mornin’ Duck!” she said.
“Good morning madame,” Duck replied. “I take it you have some cider for me?”
“Ah don’t think yer tanks’d take it!” the girl said. Both human and engine laughed at the joke.
Stacking to boxes into neat piles, Apple Bloom pushed them onto a hand cart, and wheeled them onboard the vans. It was slow going, as only one person was completing the process, and each van could take 60 boxes. And there were five vans to fill.
Presently, Big Mac came outdoors. “What’s takin’ so long?” he boomed.
“There are an awful lot of boxes to load-” Duck began.
“Ah didn’t ask ya, kettle!” he boomed.
Apple Bloom turned to face her brother. “Well, maybe if ya weren’t workin’ mah butt off, they might be loaded faster?”
Mac’s face went even redder than usual, and his hand closed into a fist. Duck shut his eyes.
BAM!
“That, is for creatin’ that social media profile.”
BAM!
“And that is fer answerin’ back.” Duck opened his eyes to see Apple Bloom a sobbing mess on the floor. “Now get these loaded and get back over ta the house. We’ve got a cellar to clean.” He began to walk away. “By that, Ah mean you.”
Duck was furious. He breathed in, and let loose the foulest curse known to steam engines.
“CASHMORE!” he shouted.
Apple Bloom got back up, and started loading the crates again. “This is gonna be mah life fer the next few weeks,” she sighed.
Duck spoke up. “That goes beyond punishment. I have a plan to get you out of here, but if it’s going to work, you need to trust me, OK?”
Apple Bloom nodded.
Duck took his train to the marshalling yard, to see the Scottish twins, Donald and Douglas, moving several of the vans into the wrong sidings.
“Hey, Douggie, where ya puttin’ those wagons?”
“Just over there Donal’!”
Duck puffed in with his new vans. “I’ve some vans here for marshalling!” he said.
Douglas puffed over to him. “Been over ta that farm yet?”
“That’s where these vans came from, yes,” Duck explained.
“Well, until further notice, we’ve been dumping all those vans inta the sidin over there.”
Duck laughed. “That will put pressure on them.”
“The roads aroond here are too bad ta deliver those boxes by rail. If they’re produce ain’t goin’ ta market, they’ll lose out and be forced ta compromise.”
Duck was astonished. “All of this for Apple Bloom?”
Donald joined them, having finished ‘shunting’ the wagons. “That wee lass don’t deserve what their doin’ ta here. She did somethin’ wron’, but that’s too harsh.”
“Even I weren’t punished so harsh when I misplaced that cooch!” Douglas noted.
“Yes!” Donald added. “When I demolished that signal box, they didna work me till my wheels fell off!”
Duck sighed. “I have a plan to rescue her, but I need your help. Can you help me?”
“Ya can always rely on a Scottish engine,” Douglas said. “What ya need us ta doo?”
That night resounded to the loud crashing and banging of wagons in Arlesburgh yard. Donald and Douglas pushed the coaches and trucks back and forth as noisily as they could, moving a train of 13-ton wagons for Duck to pick up. Duck rolled past and coupled onto the wagons, and headed for the dock.
Meanwhile, the noise woke the Apple family up. “What in tarnation!” Granny Smith shouted.
“What’s that noise?” asked Big Mac.
Applejack sighed. “Sounds like the Scottish twins are at it, again,” she sighed. She grabbed a coat and some layers, heading off into the darkness with her older brother and grandmother to find out what was going on.
Meanwhile, Apple Bloom quickly pulled on some warm winter clothing, as well as a coat, and sprinted out of the front door, in the opposite direction to where her family was going.
Applejack walked into the yard to see what the noise was all about. “What in tarnation is goin’ on, you two?”
Donald addressed. “Ah, the wee lassie wants to know what’s goin’ on.”
“Ay, Donal’,” said his brother. “Well, we are shuntin’ those vans ya sent us, to take them ta market.”
Big Mac looked confused. “They were supposed ta go ta market a few days ago!”
“Well,” said the other engine, “There is a certain matter of concern over at Sour Pear Hectares which we dinna agree with.”
Granny Smith stepped forward and shook her fist angrily at Douglas. “Now you see here-” she began.
“No, you see here!” Donald interrupted. “That wee lassie yer keepin’ under lock and key is in a mighty poor state. We Scottish engines are not willin’ ta tolerate such a thing.”
Smith seemed cross. “Ya think ya can tell me how ta run mah affairs, ya young whippersnapper?”
“I think you’ll find yer the young whippersnapper here, madame,” Douglas snorted. “We rolled out of Glasgow works in 1909.”
“And what will ya do, eh?” asked Donald. “Cane us on the firebox? Slap our smokeboxes? ‘Cause that’ll end badly for ya.”
Just then, a whistle could be heard in the distance, and a puffing noise.
Big Mac looked over. “There’s Duck! But he wasn’t due with a goods train until Boxing Day!”
Applejack’s face went red with anger. “APPLE BLOOM!” she roared.
Granny Smith began issuing instructions. “Take that pump cart and get after them! That girl’s gonna get a whippin’ fer this!”
Donald sighed. “Aboot that...”
Meanwhile, Duck raced down the line with his trucks. They sped along, the light being good and the rails clean. Apple Bloom poked her head out the cab.
“Did Donald and Douglas hold them up?”
“There’s no sign of them, so I think so!” the pannier tank replied.
“Get back here!” shouted a loud voice. Right behind them were Applejack and Big Mac, operating a pump cart. They were catching up quickly, closer and closer they got.
Duck put every ounce of steam he had into getting clear. They were gaining control. “One clear mile and we’ll have done it!” he cried.
Apple Bloom looked ahead, and shrieked. “Ah Glory, look at that!” Before them was Murdoch, pulling a slow heavy coal train.
“Evasive manoeuvres!” shouted Duck, who swung across the rails onto the down line, and straight past Murdoch. But trouble lay ahead. Before them was James!
“EEEEEEYYYOOOOOOIIIIIIKKKKKKSSSSSS!” exclaimed Duck. “Save us!” Luckily, a quick-thinking signalman did, and they were diverted onto the up line just in time.
But the pump cart was back, and catching up on the other side. The two ran parallel, as the lines got closer and closer together.
Duck pulled as hard as he could, but Big Mac climbed off the cart and attempted to board the engine.
“Yer comin’ back with us!” he boomed. But the engine was going too fast, and he fell back onto the pump cart. But the signalman was unaware of the pump cart, and had left a siding set incorrectly. The pump cart flew round a tight bend, and straight into a muddy pool!
As Applejack and Big Mac climbed out, spluttering, Donald rolled up next to them. “Dinna smashed yerself, did ya!” he laughed. “Don’ worry, we’ll soon ha ya back on the rails!”
Duck backed into the depot, to see Oliver had already got back. Apple Bloom hopped off his footplate, and smiled. “Thank ya Duck,” she said.
“No problem!” he said. “No get some rest, we have a big day tomorrow.”
Apple Bloom hopped into her bunk, and was soon fast asleep.
“That just leaves Stepney,” Duck thought.
Author's Note
Phew...that's the longest chapter I have ever written. Enjoy!
Stepney and the Mainland Adventure
Later that day, Thomas backed sadly into Tidmouth sheds, a glum expression on his face. He rolled onto the turntable and backed into his berth.
Edward was there to greet him. “Hello Thomas!” he said. “Why the long face?”
The tank engine sighed. “You were right Edward,” he said sadly. “We have made things worse.”
“What happened?” asked the old tender engine.
So, Thomas began. “When Sunset was waiting to catch a train back to Ffarquahar, I scolded her over her treatment of the Crusaders. I told her she was a complete hypocrite over how she’d behaved, and she blew her fuse. I stormed off and well...left her there on the platform.”
Edward listened diligently.
“What I did was out of order, Edward,” Thomas finished. “We have just made things worse.”
Edward laughed. “Thomas, you have nothing to worry about. Friends fall out all the time, but just as easily fall back into line again. Just look at Donald and Douglas, or Bill and Ben!”
“Even over something as serious as Anon-a-Miss?” Thomas asked.
“Even other something that serious,” Edward replied. Then his face became serious. “But I think you owe her an apology.”
“That’s what I’ll do!” said Thomas. “But do you have any idea where she would be now?”
“If I know her, she’ll be stargazing at Ffarquhar. She’s resourceful, and will probably take the bus back.”
Thomas put his cutoff into the forward position. “Shall we set off then?”
“Not so fast.” said Edward. “I have a train of presents to take up to that station. But you can guide me there.”
The night had fallen, and the stars glimmered beautifully in the sky. Thomas and Edward proceeded down the line with the train of vans, loaded with presents for the girls and boys of Ffarquhar village. The snow fell lightly, and the existing blanket was fairly light, so the engines made good time up the branch, although speeds were limited passing over Ellsbridge viaduct as the river had frozen and this was putting pressure on the bridge columns. As they passed along the line, the roads were packed the cars and lorries, all trying to maneuvre across the island’s tight and narrow road network.
“This is why the train is the only way to travel!” called Thomas.
“The only practical way to travel!” Edward laughed.
They waited in the loop at Hackenbeck for Percy to pass with a late passenger train, and then set off into the darkness once more, the lamp illuminating the gloom ahead of them as it did so. At long last, they reached Ffarquhar, where it was now completely dark.
The two engines and their train glided into the platform and came to a smooth and gentle stop. The porters came forward to unload the vans of their cargo, and Thomas moved off his train to the other platform.
“Hello Edward!”
Both the engines looked over to see Sunset Shimmer standing on the platform. “What brings you two out here on Christmas Eve?”
Edward smiled. “We’re bringing a train of presents up the line for the children of Ffarquhar. Sadly, Santa couldn’t fly to Sodor in this weather, and as a result had to drop them off at Vicarstown.”
“I can imagine!” Sunset laughed. “He must need to wrap up warm!”
Edward spoke again. “But that’s not only why we are here.”
Sunset’s face paled. “Is this about Anon-a-Miss? Because me and my friends are over it now.”
“Sunset,” Edward said, “I can see very clearly that some of those wounds are yet to heal. You can’t simply hide them away from others.” He paused. “And, Thomas has something to say to you.”
Thomas puffed forward, and cleared his throatplate. “Sunset, what I said was completely out of order. Nobody should have to go through what you did. You were right, I don’t understand the half of it at all.” The tank engine stopped. “What I’m trying to say is...I’m sorry.”
Sunset stepped over the footbridge and walked next to Thomas. “Thomas, you have nothing to be sorry for. Friends fall out all the time, and you were one of the few who stood by me in those dark days. Besides, you’re my friend, so of course I forgive you.”
Edward smiled. “Dove trovi un amico, trova un tesoro,” he said. “That means, ‘wherever you find a friend, you find a treasure’.”
She sighed. “Besides, I’m no angel myself. I did spend many years here hurting people and hurting their feelings. And I fear it is us who has lost the Christmas spirit.”
“What do you mean?” Thomas asked.
“Ever since I came into the group, they neglected their sisters. It doesn’t justify what they did, but I can understand where they were coming from.” Sunset paused. “And we have simply neglected them further.”
“You mean to say?” Edward asked.
“We went too far,” Sunset nodded. “But as friends, we can still make this right.” She pulled out her phone and began texting.
Friendship Emergency!
Meet at Tidmouth Sheds, 19:00 tonight!
She looked up, and hopped into Thomas’ cab. “Come on Thomas!” she called. “We’ve got Christmas to save!”
They got back to Tidmouth fairly late in the day, and most of the engines returned to their berths...except James.
“Where’s James?” asked Edward.
“We haven’t seen him all day,” Gordon replied. “You know how he felt about this entire affair.”
“I just hope we’ve knocked some sense into them,” said Percy. “Being treated horribly by somebody else doesn’t give you the right to treat them horribly.”
“Indeed,” Henry observed. “I know Fluttershy will come to her senses.”
“Rainbow Dash may be headstrong, but she’s not stupid,” Gordon added. “If a splashing cannot clear her head, I don’t know what will!”
Presently, Toby rolled in with his train, and their friends hopped off of Henrietta. They all looked very sad...except Applejack and Rarity, who were completely absent.
“What’s this about?” Rainbow Dash asked.
“I think it relates to Anon-a-Miss,” Fluttershy said quietly.
“Really?” Pinkie Pie asked. “I thought it was about chocolate cupcakes!”
“We’ll be needing some of those,” Percy suggested.
Sunset walked over to her assembled friends. “Girls, it’s time for this to stop.”
“For what to stop?” Pinkie asked.
“I think she means the way we’ve treated the Crusaders.” Fluttershy was quieter than usual.
“I know you’re still upset that they betrayed you,” Sunset told them, “but in isolating and punishing them, we’re only doing the same thing to them that they did to us. I think we need to make it up to them with a surprise.”
“But how?” Rainbow Dash asked. “Scootaloo’s looked in her bedroom in Brendam, Apple Bloom’s being used as forced labour in Arlesburgh, and heaven knows where Sweetie Belle is now!”
“Leave that up to us,” Edward smiled. “We may have a hard time getting Applejack on side, you know how stubborn she can be. And Rarity's just...well, Rarity!”
Sunset turned to the engines. “Well, what are we gonna do?” she asked.
Earlier that day...
Rarity prepared to walk home from the station after a good day decorating. Just then, she heard a familiar chime whistle approaching on from the Tidmouth end of the station.
She turned to see the familiar shape of an L&Y Class 28 approaching down the line with a semi-fast to Vicarstown. The engine whooshed into the platform and came to a stop.
“HEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEERE’S JAAAAAAAAAAAAAAMMMMMMMMMMMESSSSSSSSSSSSSS!” he cried.
“Hello Jamesy,” Rarity said with a smile. “How are you?”
“Not pleased with you,” came the abrupt reply.
“What? Whatever for?”
“Over how the whole issue of the last few weeks has been handled.”
“You mean Anon-a-Miss? But you see-”
“Not even I would exile another person or engine for making fun of my shiny red paint!” James snapped.
“It was more than making fun of your shiny red paint James,” Rarity replied. “Those three did a lot of damage to the island’s reputation.”
“That may be so,” James answered, “but surely forgetting the season is a greater offence! To quote Cliff Richard, “It’s a time of giving, and for forgetting.”
Rarity was taken aback by James’ words as she realised what she had done. “James, I-” she stammered.
“I don’t know about you, but you certainly don’t seem particularly generous when it comes to your own family, yet pile it on with your friends.” James rolled his eyes. “So, here’s the first thing; I’m helping Stepney rescue Sweetie Belle from...wherever it is she is now.”
He stopped, and then suddenly wheeshed, soaking Rarity from head to toe. “And that is from me to you. Merry Christmas!” He then blasted away into the distance.
Rarity looked at the floor, thinking over all James had said, and her actions. “Why does life have to be so ironic?” she asked, before hailing the next train.
Meanwhile, at Vicarstown, Stepney was readying for his long journey. Along the way he had picked up some help in the form of Button Mash, who wanted to help Sweetie Belle. The fact he had a crush on her had nothing to do with it...apparently.
He pushed a train of vans together which would be needed to pull the train of cargo back to Sodor. Suddenly, a whistle distracted his thoughts as he saw James puff over.
“Hello James!” he called. “What are you doing here?”
“I’m going to the mainland with you,” James declared confidently. “Sweetie Belle needs help, and we can give it.”
“I suppose we can use all the help we can get,” Stepney noted, as a goods train roared out of the yard with Murdoch at the head. “Can you take the vans?”
“No problem!” James smiled.
“Wait a minute!” called a voice from nearby. Both engines looked over to see Rarity running toward them.
“Hello Rarity!” called James. “Why are you here!”
“I’ve decided to join you. The way I treated dear Sweetie Belle is simply monstrous,” Rarity replied, climbing aboard James’ footplate. “And I can see you need every pair of hands you can get.”
“Thank you!” Button called from Stepney's footplate. A Stroudley carriage was coupled to the back of the train, and they were set to go.
“Only one problem,” Stepney admitted. “Where do your parents live Rarity?”
Rarity leaned over and told them. James was shocked.
“LOUGHBOROUGH?!”
Sweetie Belle sat in her room, overlooking the Great Central Railway. It was truly sad that it had come to this, effectively torn away from the only home she had ever known and forced to live with parents whom she barely knew, but barely knew her. Ever since she’d arrived since the previous day, they’d ignored her more or less, only letting her out for meals. She’d already had her internet connection cut and her phone had been confiscated, probably in a lockbox somewhere in the house.
She could hear the Santa special departing, with the cheering children on board.
“Oh well,” she thought. "I brought this on myself. I imagine they’ve already forgotten I existed, and Rarity probably forgot she had a sister. I just hope they’re OK.”
She stepped up from her bed, and softly began to sing. A band started up in the background.
“Sometimes you make some friends,
the kind of friends who stay.
Sometimes you make some friends,
and you're the one who goes away.
Sometimes you're the one,
who acts a bit unkind.
You didn't think and you did something,
you can't forget and can't rewind.”
She stepped over to the window, and slid it open, in the hope that the world would hear her.
“I'm sorry, so sorry!
And I don't know what to do.
With you so far away.
I'm sorry, so sorry!
And as soon as I see you,
that's exactly what I'm going to say!
I'm sorry, I hope you're still my friend!
I'm sorry, so sorry, my friends!”
Her mind flooded with happy memories of her time with Apple Bloom and Scootaloo.
“Sometimes you make some friends,
the kinds of friends you need.
You try to make them happy,
but... you don't always succeed.
Sometimes you're the one,
who does something that's not OK.
Sometimes you hurt your friends,
and you don't know what to do or say.”
Her heart flooded with hope, as she knew she could make this right.
“So, I'll hold onto hope,
I'll hold on tight,
for a chance to make things right.
I'm looking for you,
I'll come through,
if it takes me all my life!”
As she reached the climax of the song, she stretched out her arms and let rip.
“I'm sorry, so sorry!
And I don't know what to do.
With you so far away.
I'm sorry, so sorry!
And as soon as I see you,
that's exactly what I'm going to say!
I'm sorry, I hope you're still my friends!
I'm sorry, so sorry, my friends!”
She stood for a moment, as the chords died away. Then suddenly, there was a loud bang on the door.
“What did we tell you about singing?” Hondo Flanks snapped.
“To not to,” Sweetie Belle replied.
“Good.” The voice was full of resentment and anger. “We’re going out tonight. Don’t even think about leaving that room or using the TV. The Great Central there should provide you plenty of entertainment.”
“But what will I eat?” Sweetie Belle asked.
The door opened, and Hondo passed her a plate of...something.
“That’ll do you till tomorrow,” he said. “I’ll see you tomorrow.” The door slammed behind him.
Sweetie Belle sighed as she looked out of the window. “I wonder where you are on Christmas Day,” she said. “Especially you Button.”
Her mind turned to escaping. She could easily climb out of the window, and slide down the embankment to get to the station steps. Then she could get to the Midland, and on a train home.
Suddenly, a voice distracted her. "You don’t want to do that.”
She swung around in fright. “Who’s there?” she asked. But nobody was around. But her watch had moved from its usual place, the light on the wall had changed from green to red, and the chair appeared to be occupied.
“Escaping is a foolish idea,” the voice said again. "You may be able to escape from Loughborough, but you cannot escape from your own guilt. It will follow you for the rest of your days.”
Sweetie Belle shook in fright. “Now my own subconscious is talking to me? I must be going mad!”
“Even now your compatriots from Sodor are on their way. Do not go with them. And don’t think twice about staying here. I will know if you change your mind.”
“O-OK!” she stammered.
“Good. Remember...The Shadow knows! Hahahahahahahaha!”
Just as suddenly as he had appeared, he was no longer there. Sweetie Belle went over to the chair and prodded it. She relaxed. Nobody was there.
PEEP PEEP PIPEEP!
Sweetie Belle shrieked and jumped 10 feet in the air, running over to the window. “Who’s there?” she asked.
Outside, the site made her calm down noticeably. For there was a Terrier, painted Improved Engine Green, coupled to one coach and several vans. “Hello Sweetie Belle,” he said.
Her heart filled with joy. “Stepney!” she cried. “You came back for me!”
“That I did,” Stepney smiled. “And so did some others.”
Button popped out of the cab. “Sweetie Belle!” he called.
Sweetie Belle’s heart melted when she saw him. But then James backed through the station with the vans, and Rarity was at the controls.
“Let’s go everyone,” the older girl said. “Sweetie Belle, you’re moving back in with me on Sodor. How do we get inside?”
“Go out via the station exit, turn right, and walk down the road. 2nd house on the right.”
The two humans set off, whilst Stepney and James moved the vans into platform 2. Sweetie Belle, Rarity and Button Mash ferried supplies back and forth from the house to the waiting vans, whilst Stepney marshalled the wagons for ease of loading.
It took them a while to move everything, but there was one item to go.
“Sweetie Belle, where is your phone?” asked Rarity.
“Mom and Dad put it in a lockbox somewhere,” Sweetie Belle replied. “But I was one step ahead of them.” She took a card out of her pocket.
“You removed the SIM card? Clever.” Rarity rummaged around inside her mother’s wardrobe, and found a lockbox.
“What’s the combination?” she thought. Then an idea came to her. Working quickly, she entered in the numbers 1402. The box flew open and there was the phone.
“How’d you figure it out?” Sweetie Belle asked.
“99 times out of 100, people will use a code that is the same as the birthday of a family member,” Rarity explained. “Thus, it was one of our birthdays, and yours seemed most likely given the cluster of digits.”
They headed back to the station, and climbed aboard. Rarity poked her head out of the carriage. “Hey ho, Stepney!” she called. “Away!”
As they sped away, Hondo and Cookie came back in.
“Sweetie Belle?” they called.
Nobody answered.
“Are you there?” they called again.
Hondo went up the stairs and opened the door. The room was empty. Actually, to say the room was empty was an understatement. It looked to have been stripped clean.
“I don’t believe it!” he cried.
“What’s happened?” Cookie asked.
“My dear,” Hondo replied. “Sweetie Belle has run away. It seems she had help.”
“I know where they are heading,” said the strange voice again.
Hondo shook his head. “Sodor,” he sighed. “Shadow, can you get her back?”
“Indeed.”
On their epic run north, the train paused at Sheffield for a rest. The doors opened and the passengers climbed out, firmly in need of a toilet rest.
Rarity stayed with the train whilst Sweetie Belle went first. Stepney glanced around him at the station.
“I don’t like it,” he said. “It’s too quiet.”
“I would expect many more trains at this time of day,” James admitted.
“Stay on your guard,” Button said. “Anything could happen.”
Just then, a loud scream echoed from the station concourse, and Sweetie Belle came tearing out of the WCs toward the train.
“Whatever’s wrong?” Rarity asked.
“The creepy voice is back!” she cried out, running into her sister’s arms.
“What creepy voice?” asked James. “I didn’t hear anything.”
“Hahahahahahaha!”
“There it is again!” Sweetie Belle quivered.
“Wait, I heard it too,” Button said.
“WHO’S THERE?” asked Stepney. But nobody was around.
“You cannot see me,” said the voice to them. "I can cloud the minds of any man or woman. You cannot see me, but heed my words.”
Stepney sighed. “There’s a man with a megaphone over there.”
“But I am the immortal Shadow! No man or woman can see me!”
“There’s a slight snag in your plan,” James noted. “Neither Stepney nor myself are men nor women. We are locomotives.”
“But such a matter is irrelevant! The authorities are descending upon you, this place is not safe for steam engines! The Police shall take you, and those diesels shall tear you apart. Go back to Loughborough while you still can, and you shall be safe. Stay...and face certain death! Hahahahahahahahahahaha!”
Sweetie Belle scrambled aboard Stepney’s footplate, whilst James began to back out of the station.
Stepney pretended to be frightened. “You’re a big bully, Mr Shadow!” he whimpered. “You’ll be sorry!” And just then, he began to back out of the station.
The Shadow nodded. "Good, they have sense in them.”
But no sooner had Stepney vanished out of the station he suddenly came up the other side. “Friend stealer!” he shouted, and began backing up.
But no sooner had he gone, then Stepney appeared on the other side once again, and whistled, before moving back again.
And then Stepney appeared on the other line, whistled, and reversed again.
This went on and on for half an hour, until the Shadow’s eyes nearly popped out.
“STOP! He boomed. "YOU’RE MAKING ME GIDDY!”
Then Stepney passed on his left, and his right, at the same time. He looked in confusion.
“There are two of them?” he asked. Just then a Class 37 with a siren pulled into the platform.
“Where are they?” the diesel asked, as another one pulled up.
“There are two of them,” the Shadow told them. “One went toward Leeds, and the other toward Chester. If we are quick, we can get them.”
The diesels needed no persuading, and immediately set off in pursuit of their targets.
Stepney continued to blaze down the line, with a Class 37 siren blaring behind him. “One clear mile and we’ll have them off our backs!” he cried. But the plan soon backfired, as they were diverted into a loop. The signal was red! Stepney’s brakes screeched on, and he stopped.
The diesel pulled up next to him. “Nice try, Stepney,” he said gruffly.
“Wrong one I’m afraid,” the Terrier replied. “My name’s Freshwater, and that’s a dummy onboard.”
Elsewhere, the other Terrier was leading the Class 37 on a merry chase around Leeds. Through Pontefract and Wakefield he sped, onwards to Church Fenton, and up through York he raced, with the diesel close behind, but unable to take the curves at the same speed.
But all things must end. The Terrier took a bend much too fast, and came off the rails, landing next to the ground.
The Shadow stepped out of the diesel’s cab, and walked over to the Terrier. “I’ve got you now, Sweetie Belle!” he laughed. He looked inside, and suddenly realised he’d been tricked.
“Who are you?” he demanded to the engine.
“My name’s Newport, sir,” the engine replied. “And the girl on the footplate is a lookalike.”
The Shadow roared in frustration. "We'll never catch them now! Confound those Terriers and their tricks!”
Meanwhile, the rescue train was steaming onto Sodor.
“That was a genius plan Stepney!” Sweetie Belle laughed.
“The Shadow may be good,” Stepney said, “but even he cannot tell us apart. More importantly, he cannot be in three places at once!”
The Terrier sighed as he rolled back onto Sodor. They had all come home. But what an adventure it had been!
“All you’ve got to do is wear a smile, and you will find your sun will shine!” he cheered.
But then a loud bonging could be heard from the Vicarstown clock. Sweetie Belle looked out with excietemnt.
“Does that mean?” she asked.
“Yes,” Stepney smiled. “Merry Christmas, Sweetie Belle!”
They arrived at Tidmouth quite late in the day, and Stepney shunted into his berth. Sweetie Belle got out of the cab, to see her friends sleeping in the nearby bunk. She flopped into the bottom one and was fast asleep.
Stepney sighed, seeing his friends back together, and relaxed as dreams reclaimed him.
Author's Note
Matthais Unidostres, I do apologise. See you tomorrow!
Scootaloo was faintly aware of a voice in her ear as she slowly came to her senses. All was a bit blurry. There was a fire in the distance, and a tree. There were some decorations as well, and lights, and the smoke hoods were...wait, smoke hoods?
She sat up in bed, and was suddenly aware of a blue girl with prismatic hair sitting in front of her.
“Mornin’ squirt!” Rainbow Dash called.
Scootaloo shrieked and recoiled in her cot. “Don’t hurt me, please!”
Rainbow laughed. “I’m not gonna hurt ya, kid. I wanted to welcome you to this most wonderful of days. And what better place to mark it than in Tidmouth Sheds, with friends.”
As if on cue, the engines then launched into a hearty rendition of an old classic:
Hark! the herald angels sing, "Glory to the new-born King! Peace on earth, and mercy mild, God and sinners reconciled." Joyful, all ye nations, rise, Join the triumph of the skies; With th ' angelic host proclaim, "Christ is born in Bethlehem." Hark! the herald angels sing, "Glory to the new-born King!
This was enough to awaken Sweetie Belle and Apple Bloom, both of whom fell out of their bunks onto the floor.
“Ah had a dream about escapin’ on Duck,” Apple Bloom commented.
“What was that about running from a shadow?” Sweetie Belle murmured.
“Ah must still be dreamin’,” Apple Bloom groaned, “as Ah can hear Sweetie Belle in the background.” Then, as her brain switched on, she saw her friend in front of her. “Are ya actually there?”
“Just as sure as I’m on Sodor,” Sweetie Belle replied. The two friends ran to one another and hugged, which was promptly joined by Scootaloo.
“The Crusaders are back together!” the chorused together.
“Well, that’s all well and done,” said Rarity. “But aren’t you girls going to open your presents?”
The three girls looked a little confused.
“I know we loaded mine into the vans at Loughborough,” Sweetie Belle said.
“Mine were thrown in a skip, and are probably in the waste dump.” Scootaloo sighed. “I kinda deserve it.”
“Same here,” Apple Bloom nodded. “Ah saw Donald pullin’ them away.”
“Well,” said the voice of Gordon, “we had a chat with Mr Cringle, and he’s solved that little issue.”
“Look under the tree, and all shall be revealed,” Fluttershy smiled.
The Crusaders stepped over to the tree nervously, and looked through the boxes. Scootaloo turned one over, to see it was to her, from Oliver! Opening it, she could see it was the rolling stock she’d requested for her layout. Thankfully, her aunts hadn’t trashed it as they couldn’t figure out how to get into the basement.
“Thanks!” she called to Oliver.
“No problem!” the tank engine called.
Meanwhile, Sweetie Belle opened one of hers, to see it was a new laptop, to replace the one that had ‘died’ a few days ago.
“Thanks Rarity!” she smiled.
“I will admit that I was a little rash in taking a hammer to your old one,” Rarity nodded. “But this one has far more processing power than the last one. And it’s already linked to your Dropbox, so you’ll be able to access all of your old videos.”
Apple Bloom slid open one of hers, and behold! The copy of BattleCry she’d requested. The engine who had sent it? Duck.
She smiled at the Pannier Tank. “Thank ya kindly,” she grinned.
“No problem,” Duck said. “After all, even with Christmas, there’s only two ways of doing things, the Great Western way, or the-”
“WE KNOW!” everyone chorused.
The group of them took their turns to open up everything at the bottom of the tree, and at last they were done. But then the girls took a more serious tone.
“Why are you being nice to us, after what we did?” Scootaloo asked.
Rainbow Dash sighed. “At the time we chose to punish you the way we did, our minds were still clouded with anger over what had happened.”
“We didn’t stop to think about the consequences of our actions,” Sunset admitted.
“And it was soon clear it wasn’t you who had lost the Christmas spirit, it was us,” Pinkie sighed.
Rarity was next to speak. “After all, whilst it doesn’t justify what you did, we had neglected you in favour of our friends. And blood is truly thicker than water.”
“For all the brutal treatment,” Rainbow sighed again, “We were the bullies.”
“We simply did to you what you did to us,” Fluttershy added.
“And two wrongs do not make a right,” Sunset admitted.
“I suppose,” Rarity finished, “what we are trying to say is, we’re-”
The shed door suddenly burst open. In stepped two creatures covered in snow.
“It’s Krampus!” Scootaloo cried. Sweetie Belle shrieked and jumped into her sister’s arms.
The creatures stepped forward, and shook the snow of them. It was Aunts Lofty and Holiday, and they looked cross.
“What is the meaning of this, running off?” one of them boomed, and strode toward Scootaloo, suddenly seeing the box lying next to the tree.
Lofty picked it up, and looked at it closely. “I swear I binned this!” she snapped.
“Remember which engines oversee the waste dump,” Oliver observed. “And why are you covered in snow?”
“The car crashed and we had to walk the rest of the way!” Holiday exclaimed. “But the snow won’t stop us reclaiming our niece!”
Just as they stepped forward, Oliver rolled in the way. “No,” he said. “You shall not have her!”
Another door flew open, and in stepped Applejack and Big Mac, utterly soaking.
“Yer in fer a wippin’!” Applejack snapped.
And finally, who else should enter, but the Shadow, with a broken arm. But everyone could see him clearly.
“Well, well, well,” Thomas joked. “If it isn’t the brothers Grim! Smashed, broken, and sunk!”
Applejack began to move forward with speed, before Rainbow Dash stepped in her way.
“Get outta mah way,” Applejack snapped.
“No,” Rainbow answered. “Stop and think for a moment.”
“That girl ran away from home, ruined lives, and caused chaos on our island! Why do Ah need to stop and think?”
Rainbow sighed. “Take a deep breath, count to 10, and repeat. This girl who you seem so determined to vilify, is your sister. And she, like human beings, makes mistakes.”
“Are ya tryin’ ta justify what she did?” the farm girl demanded.
The prismatic girl shook her head. “No. But how you treated her-WE TREATED THEM-was no better.”
Applejack’s thoughts flooded through her mind. The times she had cursed Apple Bloom’s name. The times she had slapped her, or forced her into overwork.
“Good God,” she whispered. “All this time, Ah was no better.” She turned to the Aunts. “Why does life have ta be so ironic?”
“That’s what I was going to say!” Sweetie Belle squeaked.
Everyone nodded in agreement. Then Rainbow finished from earlier. “As I was saying, we’re sorry/ Do you forgive us?”
There was a moment’s pause. Then the Crusaders ran to their respective sibling’s arms.
“Yer ma sister Applejack,” Apple Bloom said, “so of course Ah forgive ya. Ah just hope ya can find it in yer heart ta forgive me.”
“All is forgiven,” Applejack replied. “But don’t think yer getting' outta this without punishment.”
“Ah wouldn’t intend ta.”
Scootaloo hugged Rainbow Dash tightly. “Why wouldn’t I forgive the most awesome big sister in the world?” she exclaimed. “But it doesn’t get away from the fact that what I did was wrong.”
“Me too,” Sweetie Belle added.
Aunt Lofty sighed. “Oh, the indignity.”
“THAT’S MY LINE!” Gordon boomed.
The embrace over, the engines spoke up. “We’ve done some negotiation, and we’ve got the terms of your grounding lifted,” said Edward.
“Instead,” James said, “you will be joining the Snow Patrol with Donald and Douglas, which starts tomorrow.”
“That doesn’t sound too bad,” Scootaloo admitted.
“Oh, it isn’t,” Henry smiled. “You get to ride in a snowplough, and speed through the snowdrifts. But every now and then you’ll need shovels.”
“That sounds like hard work if it’s just the three of us,” Sweetie Belle noted.
“Who said it was just you three?” Percy asked.
Then it dawned on them. “Yer sayin’ that-” Apple Bloom started.
“That’s right!” Rainbow Dash smiled. “We’re joining ya!”
“But why?” Scootaloo asked. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”
“We did,” Rarity sighed. “We left you out of our lives when we should have been speaking to you. If that isn’t grounds for punishment, I don’t know what is.”
“Besides,” Applejack grinned, “It’ll mean we get ta spend a lotta time together. That’s what ya wanted, right?”
“If I may finish,” Gordon said suddenly, in spite of the fact he hadn’t been speaking. “You will also be receiving 6 months detention, between you.”
“Ah’ve known worse,” Apple Bloom nodded.
“It’s better than you think,” Stepney laughed. “6 months, split between you.”
“Which means,” Scootaloo said slowly, as it dawned on her, “we only get 2 months total!”
Thomas whistled happilly. “I think we’ve saved Christmas! Now it’s time for the big man himself!”
“Santa?” everyone asked.
“No!” Thomas replied. “The Fat Con-”
“Sir Toppham Hatt to you!” snapped Duck.
“Indeed,” said Sir Toppham Hatt. “Let’s get this party started!”
The occasion was most festive, and the sight of Sir Toppham Hatt singing ‘Merry Christmas Everyone’ would be one that wouldn’t be forgotten.
In spite of the efforts of the engines, it was clear some wounds lingered. But none of that mattered. The road to redemption and trust is a long and difficult one, ridden with broken rails, leaves, and steep gradients.
But the Crusaders knew, that with the engines and their sisters by their sides, they wouldn’t be making that journey alone.
Author's Note
Merry Advent, everyone!
This story was written as a response to seperation fics, which sadden me greatly as the thought of the Crusaders split up is tragic. Besides, it rather defeats the point of a Christmas story; it's supposed to end happily.
This is the first of my four Christmas Presents to y'all.
Michelle Creber-Apple Bloom
I wish all my readers a very Merry Christmas and a Happy New Year. Quote the phrase 'Stepney', if you made it this far.
