The Island of Sodor was located between the Isle of Man and the British mainland. While it had a rich history and an identity all its own compared to its neighbours, its railway system was what the citizens took the most pride in. Splendid, colourful, and especially hard-working and useful engines traveled to and fro each and every day, hauling goods and passengers to their destinations. And the head of the railway, Sir Topham Hatt — formally known as the Fat Controller — considered each and every one of his engines ‘the pride of the line’.
But some engines were prone to getting in trouble every now and then, and like a naughty child, some engines would find themselves put in the shed as punishment for their misbehaviour.
The diesel engine known as Mavis sat in the gloomy darkness of her shed, sad and feeling sorry for herself. She’d been shut up for several days ever since she got into a ‘serious bout of trouble’ with some china clay trucks. The cross look the Fat Controller had given her when he shut the shed doors on her was all she could think about whenever she wasn’t sleeping, and it only made her feel more depressed.
“What a useless engine I am,” she moaned. “The Fat Controller is sure to send me for scrap.”
Then one day, the shed doors opened to reveal the Fat Controller as well as Mavis’ driver and her manager. A surge of hope shot up in Mavis that she might be let out to shunt trucks. Her driver gave her a kind smile while the Fat Controller and her manager regarded her plainly.
“Are you sorry for what you did, Mavis?” the Fat Controller asked.
“Oh yes, sir!” Mavis said. “Very much so.”
“I would hope so after you left so many workmen injured,” her manager spoke up. “You’ve been a credit to the Ffarquhar Quarry Company until now, but I would hope you can turn things around.”
“I can, sir, I can!” Mavis pleaded.
“People are saying bad things about not just the Ffarquhar Quarry Company, but about the rest of my railway, Mavis,” the Fat Controller said sternly. “I do not appreciate that at all.”
“Please sir, let me out,” Mavis continued to plea. “I promise I’ll be good.”
“Mavis, we’re willing to give you another chance, but there’s something else you must do for us before we let you work in the quarry again.”
“Anything, sir.”
The Fat Controller heaved a great sigh. “I can promise you won’t like it,” he said darkly. “Have you heard from the other engines about the ‘Window’?”
Mavis was confused at first but tried to recall anything she’d heard that sounded similar. “... I think Percy mentioned something about Thomas coming out of one.” She looked at him worryingly. “Why wouldn’t I like it, sir?”
“Because you’ll be losing your wheels for it.”
Mavis was alarmed. “M-my wheels, sir?”
The Fat Controller nodded. “But that’s enough chat for now; we’ll explain more when we reach Tidmouth Shed.”
“Hope your wheels haven’t rusted since you’ve been in here,” Mavis’ driver said with a laugh as he climbed into her cab.
Mavis was too terrified to respond.