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?”