//------------------------------// // Chapter 10: A Day For Surprises // Story: Wreck of the Bridleway Limited // by Locomotion //------------------------------// Perspective: Octavia There are some who might say that lying bedridden for days on end in a hospital ward can often become tedious and lonely, while others would argue that it allows them plenty of time in which to contemplate over certain issues which, in this day and age, tend to fly right over our heads. In the time I spent in hospital following the accident, I found both to be quite true, for most of my time was spent in solitude apart from routine examinations by the medical staff. Although Frederick, Locomotion, Symphony, Concerto, Beauty Brass and Pinkie Pie came to visit as often as they could, their visits were still separated by long periods of sorrow, regret and even fear as my mind drifted between her time in Canterlot, the future of our musical careers, and that dreadful collision that had nearly cost me my life. I was most grateful when, a week later, the doctors recognised how distressed I had become and sent me for hour of counselling each afternoon; but that said, I was still sobered by the thought of several other survivors in equally delicate states of mental health to my own – possibly far worse. Over the course of those counselling sessions, I gradually became better acquainted with said victims, and learned more and more about the tales of their own survivals. One passenger, a flighty unicorn stallion from Fort Maine, told us how he had been startled out of his sleep as the coach rolled over, instantly collapsing into a frenetic nervous breakdown; while another explained that the destruction of the front coach had left her husband comatose, and she was terrified that he might never wake up again. Just listening to those anecdotes filled my eyes with tears at the hardships that all those ponies had been through in the space of that one night, and I found myself reflecting time and again on how lucky we were to have survived at all. Aside from the counselling, I received a visit in the first week from a railway official conducting a government inquiry into the accident, who interviewed me for my own account of what happened that night. When Locomotion came to visit me again a few days afterwards, accompanied by his mother, he explained that he too had been visited by the same stallion; and I'm sorry to say that, after the stress of the accident itself and the interrogation that followed, he was in heartbreakingly low spirits. Even today, I truly feel sorry for him after seeing him so glum – no eight-year-old colt, mature for his age though he may be, should have to shoulder such a heavy burden of distress. It was very little surprise, then, when his mother explained that she and his father were to take him for a week of restorative sojourn. A full three months were to elapse before I myself could finally recover from the trauma of the accident, though it may have been even longer but for certain circumstances which I will not yet divulge. On the upside, it wasn't long before I was deemed capable of walking around for long periods without the use of a wheelchair; and a few days later, on the 22nd of April, I was finally discharged from the hospital, albeit with the cast still holding my left arm intact. Locomotion had already returned home from his holiday by then, and when he came to visit the day before I was released, he informed me that his party would be taking place on the following Sunday; thus, remaining true to my word, my first priority upon leaving the hospital was to book into a hotel for a fortnight. Now, I must confess that I hadn't seen anything of Harpo since our less than amicable altercation in the dining car, so I was a little dubious as to whether he would be best pleased to see me again – particularly as nopony had said anything unto me regarding his attitude of late. By this time, I probably should have known to expect the unexpected; but it still came as a surprise to me when, shortly before I took my leave, he approached me with an unusually solemn glint in his eyes. “What-ho, Octavia,” he greeted in an absent-minded tone. “Uh...good morning to you too, Harpo,” I replied uncertainly. “Yes, it is a good morning...all things considered.” Harpo paused for a few seconds before continuing his speech; “I appreciate your feelings regarding...well, certain other ponies...and I can see you're more than a little disappointed in...er, 'them' – but I just want to stress that I didn't intend for any hard feelings. I fear my earlier reaction to you and...her might have been a shade unjustified, and I really do hope you understand.” To say I did understand what he was implying wouldn't have been entirely true, for while I appreciated the apology, I couldn't quite fathom how it was that he had gone from being spiteful and judgemental to behaving like he regretted his every action towards me; or even why he felt the need to conceal his remorse behind a thin, almost transparent curtain of self-importance. What, in the four weeks we had spent here, could have changed his demeanour so abruptly? Could it be the result of frayed nerves following the previous month's calamity, or had he simply been using his time wisely and considering the ramifications of his acting out so atrociously? So overwhelmed was I with this mysterious change that all the response I could come out with was a quiet, perplexed murmur of, “What gives?” Harpo looked away in a snooty manner. “You wouldn't understand even if I told you. All I want you to know is that my way of thinking at the time was more than a little flawed, so if I ever have a problem with her ever again...well, feel free to ignore my every word,” he stated with dignity. “And I understand as well if you don't wish to forgive me for my abysmal behaviour.” My mouth hung agape as he hobbled away down the corridor without another word. I had never known Harpo to be so humble before now, yet here he was, willingly admitting to have drunken the poison while it was uttered unto him, yet at the same time refusing the antidote simply because he felt undeserving of it. I didn't have much time to ponder over this admittedly confusing enigma, however, as most of my time thereafter was spent growing further and further acquainted with Ponyville. It wasn't quite the hustle and bustle of Canterlot, but in a way, that was what made it all the more endearing to me; it was peaceful, the natives were extraordinarily friendly, the local produce was of a quality that would make any city pony goggle in disbelief, and I enjoyed exploring every avenue of this charming provincial town – so much so, in fact, that I quickly began to grow fond of the place. I even took the opportunity to visit Rarity at her boutique the day before Locomotion's party, and we spent a good few hours talking about all that had been going on in each other's lives over an impromptu dress-fitting session, followed by a spot of tea. The dress was nothing particularly fanciful or extravagant as one would expect in good old Canterlot, or even of the most prized dresses in Carousel Boutique, for that matter, but a simple, light blue gown with my Cutie Mark embroidered onto each flank. It was casual, and made me feel like I was one with the rest of the town, instead of some self-absorbed city pony with precious little time for the simpler things in life. While we both enjoyed our little social engagement, I couldn't help noticing a coy, cryptic look in Rarity's eyes when I happened to mention a certain other pony – the look of a mother concealing an extra special Hearth's Warming gift to her little foal. Even when I left, her parting words unto me were, “Have faith, my dear, and fate may yet be on your side,” accompanied by a knowing wink that left me in complete suspense... Perspective: Vinyl Entry 3713 April 17th Okay, first off, sorry I haven't been writing in this diary since late last month. I would have kept this thing up to date, but when my therapist saw that I was keeping one, she suggested I write in another one so she could better understand my feelings and why I've been drinking so heavily. Probably wouldn't have even bothered if she hadn't been so persuasive – I mean, I know they're confidential and everything at these places, but you try writing down your thoughts on a bit of paper when you know somepony's gonna be reading through them later. It's just embarrassing! Still, at least now she understands how I feel about having to part with Octavia and how my parents were like “no way do you get to live your own life, you belong in charge of our factory, and nopony has the right to complain about it”. I ain't gonna lie, there were many times when I had tears in my eyes while I was telling her my story about how I ran away from them. I needed a lot of counselling throughout my stay in rehab, and I'm still kinda down about the whole thing, but funnily enough, I actually feel better for having let it all out. Maybe it's because they've helped me find new ways of coping with those memories of my parents and how much I miss Tavi. Still, I dunno how long I'm gonna be off of the booze, considering how much she means to me, but hey – can't let it get to me, I suppose. I mean, let's face it, I'm probably never gonna see her again, so I might as well try and get on with my life. Anyways, sit-rep – I'm now out of rehab and going through all my mail, seeing what gigs I've got and so on. Doesn't look like I'm gonna get one anytime soon though, because at the moment all of them are kinda out of date, and it looks like I'm behind on the rent again too. Ah well, at least I have enough in my bank account to cover it. I just hope Loco ain't upset about his birthday party. Entry 3715 April 19th Well, what do ya know? Just had Loco's parents drop by this morning, and it turns out he didn't feel well enough to go ahead with this shindig of his. They'd been away in Hollow Shades for a week so he could get over the whole thing. Poor little guy must have been through a real tough time, same as me. Anyways, they've rescheduled his party for the 25th, and this is what really surprises me – they still want me to DJ for him! They said they'd heard all about my past from Mr and Mrs Cake and thought I deserved a second chance. I mean, seriously, I can't believe they had the guts to look past me getting sloshed and let me off the hook, but I can't thank them enough! Just thank you both for doing this! Thank you so, so much! Good thing, then, that my next gig is just a cute-ceañera on the 23rd and not some massive great big weekend concert. So, first things first, time to get some playlists together... Entry 3721 April 25th, noon Well, today's the day. The bakery's been decorated, the cake's been baked, the buffet table's all laid out with food and drink, my DJ station's all set up, and all I need now is to wait for Loco and his folks to turn up. Been talking with Pinkie for a while now, and she's been getting like real shaky all over and stuff. Says her Pinkie Sense is going nuts and there's a real doozy about to happen, but she doesn't know how or when. It's not somepony knocking her Pinkie Sense, I know that much, but she's only ever had that once or twice, so I dunno. For the record (no pun intended, LOL), Mr and Mrs Cake are over in a different part of Ponyville dealing with this real big order of cakes for some other pony, and then they're gonna go spend the rest of the day in the park. Kinda makes sense, really, considering how I like to play my music loud and stuff – I mean, I'm no momma myself (yet), but it must be real tough to have somepony kicking your insides like hell just because you've turned it up too loud. Mind you, Mrs Cake seems to be enjoying all that kicking, so maybe some unborn babies do like loud music. I sure hope mine do – if I ever have any, that is. But yeah, everything's been set up, so now I reckon it's time to go grab myself some lunch. Perspective: Octavia Only on the afternoon of Saturday the 25th of April did the truth finally reveal itself, in a way that would make this particular day the most memorable in my entire life. I was still a shade apprehensive of the whole endeavour, but not because it was beneath me – far from it, in fact – rather, I felt unworthy of such generous hospitality from the pony who had safeguarded me from such an untimely end. And surely he himself was venturing a little outside of his comfort zone, especially after all the stress he had incurred and how dreadfully it had affected him? But oh well, I told myself resolutely as I left the hotel in my new dress – a promise is a promise. Locomotion's party was to take place at 4 o'clock, which allowed me plenty of time for a leisurely stroll through the town centre before reaching the venue – a place known as Sugarcube Corner, if my memory served me. Along the way, I noticed none other than Harpo enjoying tea and rock cakes at a nearby café with a stallion I had never met before. The pony was similar in colour to Harpo, but in reverse with a darker, bluer mane and tail, and his Cutie Mark consisted of two quavers. His overall appearance wasn't perfect, but it certainly wasn't repulsive either; and his general demeanour was one of a simple, laid-back, middle-class pony without a care in the world. That was precisely what confused me, for Harpo should have been looking down his nose at this unlikely companion of his; and yet here he was, talking with this other pony as if they had been friends throughout their whole lives. As I stared in amazement, the mystery stallion happened to notice me out of the corner of his eye. “Hello, hello,” he remarked, taking me rather by surprise. “Who's this, Harpo?” But as soon as he saw me, Harpo's face took on the awkward look of the terrier that had been caught ravaging the slippers. “Oh, why, Octavia!” he exclaimed. “My word, this is unexpected, isn't it?” Personally, I should think “unexpected” would have been putting it mildly. I was so taken aback by what I was seeing that I couldn't manage any kind of response – at least not until the other pony began whistling casually in an obvious attempt to break the silence. “Uh...Harpo,” I asked dubiously, “who is this?” “Um...nopony in particular,” stammered Harpo, his mask of pomposity rapidly faltering as he attempted to diffuse the situation. “He's just...a random pony I met while I was in town! Yes, we'll go with that...” Before I could even begin to question why he would be acquainting himself with such a pony, the stallion laughed and gave Harpo a playful slap on the back. “Aw, come on, Harpo!” he chortled. “You've known me way longer than that! Or maybe you took an even harder wallop to the bean than you make out. Remember how we used to swap instruments sometimes whenever I came to visit?” “Wait a second!” I interrupted, suddenly realising the connection. “Do you mean to say you've been friends with Harpo before now?” “Since we were foals,” replied the stallion heartily. “And we're not just friends – I'm his first cousin Noteworthy. Octavia, I presume?” and he held out a hoof for me to shake. I accepted it with a polite nod, but was still greatly bewildered – first Concerto telling me he was in a relationship with Frederick, then a little colt working for the railways, and now I find that Harpo, just like me, had extended family living in a rural town! Whatever next, I wondered, Beauty Brass taking the same interest in mares that I do? I gazed back at Harpo, who seemed to shrink behind the table with shame. That was when the puzzle pieces finally fell into place. This Noteworthy pony was clearly a close relative of Harpo's in terms of friendship as well as kin, but it was equally clear that Harpo himself, quite naturally for the aristocrat he aspired to be, was extraordinarily sensitive about being caught fraternising with a so-called “commoner”. While it never has been or ever will be a major source of embarrassment (and again, I am writing from experience with this statement), there was no doubt in my mind that he was even more mortified than I was bemused. In fact, the only thing that could possibly damage his self-esteem any further would be if Noteworthy happened to be one of those ponies. “So, er...you play music as well?” I asked innocently, breaking out of my reverie and paying Noteworthy my undivided attention. “Heck, yeah!” said Noteworthy heartily. “Country or rock, mostly, but I do dabble in a bit of jazz from time to time. I'm pretty good on the guitar, and I even helped young Harpo get the hang of string instruments when he was a colt. I never boast,” he added modestly, “but I'd say I did a good job of translating my guitarist skills to the harp, wouldn't you, cuz?” But Harpo was too humiliated to affirm or deny that fact. His pride was all but shattered, and only a few small shards remained underneath the thickening layer of mud that was slowly smothering him. “Alright, Octavia, you've found out my secret!” he mumbled bitterly, with a tint of guilt standing out among the dulling colours of his emotional portrait. “Feel free to smear my name as much as you like! I brought this on myself!” By now, I couldn't help feeling sorry for the poor stallion. Ignoring his injured admission of defeat, I merely smiled sympathetically in response. “Harpo,” I stated with solemn resolve, “for how long have you known me?” “Since the age of eleven,” said Harpo, still refusing to look in my direction. “And when was the last time I condemned somepony for having a relative of lower standards than us, even behind closed doors?” Harpo fell silent again as I stood and gazed knowingly upon him, allowing the information to sink in with him. His loss for words was all the reply I needed. “There's no shame in being a high-class harpist with a rock guitarist for a cousin,” I soothed after a while. “The trouble with you, Harpo – as I've emphasised many times before – is that you expect far too much of yourself. Sometimes you just have to accept that your social standing, your fame...goodness knows, even your musical talent is but of insignificant importance compared with basic friendship, camaraderie and family honour. I, for one, think it's really nice that you get along so well with your cousin; but by the end of the day, it's hardly up to me to decide whether it's disgraceful or improper, any more than...those two ponies,” I added, suppressing a scowl, “had a right to heckle me for my own orientation.” “But...surely, after all the things I said...” “Well, yes, you had been more than a little disrespectful regarding my feelings for her, but I would never wish to hurt those of any other pony, regardless of whom they happen to be,” I interjected. “All I ask is that you try to be a bit more tolerant of said subject in future.” After another pause, Harpo nodded gravely. “I'll do my best, Octavia,” he said. “I'm awfully sorry about your cello, by the way.” I smiled again, this time a little more wistfully as the vision of my splintered cello flashed through my memory. “Never mind, Harpo,” I replied sadly. “These things happen. I can soon purchase another one.” Harpo said no more, but gave me a rare smile of his own. With that, I bade him and Noteworthy farewell and continued in the direction of the bakery, quietly reflecting on how much humbler he had become since the accident. It was astounding to consider how much of a difference a single relative could make to his personality, especially one of a lower social standing – and whom I had never known before, for that matter. Given his class-consciousness, it was perhaps understandable on reflection that he should have been so reticent about revealing that he had such a pony in his family; but it also made me feel happier with the knowledge that, despite his pompous façade, he too knew what it was like to have somepony so close to you who couldn't have been more different. Noteworthy's tastes in music were a world apart from his, yet they had somehow managed to make their relationship as cousins work, and even to this day they are still maintaining a healthy correspondence. If only the same could be said for me and her, I thought wistfully... Perspective: Locomotion Needless to say, the week leading up to the 25th was somewhat hectic, what with all the planning and decorating that needed doing at Sugarcube Corner and half a dozen other things. Can't say Pinkie minded very much, though, and Vinyl already had all the songs and tunes that I wanted her to play, so all was ready and waiting by the time my friends and I arrived that evening. Rather wisely, perhaps, none of them said anything about the accident, but instead asked how I was doing and wished me a happy birthday. All the while, I kept scanning the crowd eagerly for the guest of honour. At last, less than five minutes into the party, some hushed whispers of astonishment from told me that the pony in question had arrived. Briskly, I made my way over to the door as she entered the lobby. “Hey, Octavia,” I greeted cheerfully. “Good evening, Loco,” answered Octavia with a friendly smile. “Many happy returns.” “Thanks. Sure glad you could make it. How's your arm?” Octavia gazed down at her left foreleg, still in its cast. “Not quite fully recovered, but it's certainly improving. So how have you been keeping yourself?” “Not bad, I guess – aside from having to deal with the stress.” I stared down at my hooves, suddenly feeling a little self-conscious. “I quite understand,” said Octavia kindly. “The feeling has been mutual, I assure you.” That instantly made me feel better about myself. Without further ado, I proceeded to introduce Octavia to my all friends, many of whom were pretty mystified that I had managed to befriend an esteemed classical musician so easily. Kinda figures, really; even in those days, classical music was probably about as popular with foals as nursery rhymes with hardcore video-gamers (I'm looking at you, High Score!), so they probably wouldn't have even heard of her. Sweetie-Belle, on the other hoof, was one of the few who actually enjoyed her music, let alone recognised it, so she and Octavia were soon chatting like old friends. In fact, it was while the three of us were chatting that Vinyl began playing a particular favourite of mine. I began lightly bobbing my head and tapping my hoof against the floor as it played, but promptly paused when Octavia remarked curiously, “I don't think I've ever heard this one before. Has this only just been released?” “No, it's been out for a few years now,” I replied with an eager smile. “It's one of my favourite Rodney the Railway Engine songs, 'Really Useful Engine'.” “Is that so?” Octavia looked impressed. “I never knew that a foals' television series could come up with such enjoyable songs as this.” I could kind of understand where she was coming from. Rodney the Railway Engine is a great series, and I will readily defend it to the day I die; but you wouldn't really expect any upper-class pony to appreciate it in anything like the same way that I do. Even Octavia had never truly heard about it until one of my visits to her in hospital. “Yeah, well, that's the thing about Loco,” put in Sweetie-Belle with a broad grin. “Anything that relates to trains, he's right in his happy place! You know the weird thing, though?” “No, what?” “He doesn't usually do well with loud music, and yet he's making this a kind of disco gig,” explained Sweetie-Belle. She did have a point, I must confess; it was for that reason that I'd asked Vinyl to play it at a lower, more tolerable volume, and also why High Score and so many others had been taken aback by me choosing her to play that music at all! “We all knew he was into trains, but we never thought he'd be having music at his party.” “You think you were surprised?” I quipped. “I never dreamed in all my life that I would be collaborating with a DJ of all ponies!” Sweetie-Belle nodded in agreement. “Yeah, just as well we even had a DJ living here in the first place,” she pointed out. “You have a disc jockey living here?” asked Octavia, bemused. “Oh, yeah,” I replied, cocking my head towards the DJ station. “She was the one who helped me pick out all the songs for my party. Goes by the name of DJ PON-3, but her real name's Vinyl Scratch.” And that was when the most extraordinary thing happened. No sooner had Octavia turned her attention to the mare in question than her eyes widened and seemed to gloss over, almost as if she was under some really powerful spell; while at the same time, Vinyl looked up from her turntables towards Octavia and seemed to freeze in place, transfixed. Everypony else stopped what they were doing and turned to gaze at them in twos and threes; and even I was so taken aback by the inexplicable turn of events that I couldn't help staring either...