//------------------------------//
// Ticket to Ryde, Part 2 
// Story: Thomas and Friends: More Tales from Sodor 
// by The Blue EM2 
//------------------------------//

The next morning dawned, and Stepney simmered happily in the yard as his fire slowly built and warmth crept through his boiler. All of the Terriers on shed that morning had had their fires lit by the depot crew, and the air slowly filled with the smell of anthracite and gentle whiffs of steam as a depot was readied for duty. Stepney yawned gently as Sweetie Belle arrived to check on him.

"They've lit your fire?" she asked. "Neat!"

"Indeed," Stepney smiled. "These depot crews know what they are about, and are good at it, eh? Now, we've got a lot to do today; I'm told the timetable is very busy."

No sooner had he said this, then a workman coupled him to the engine that was behind him. "Hey! What's going on?"

"Operational orders," the workman replied.

Suddenly, the engine he was coupled to spoke. "We're coupled back to back so that we can run round a lot more efficiently. That way, we have an engine that is always facing forwards for their part of the journey. The photographers also prefer it, as it allows them to get a front view of an engine rather than its bunker."

Stepney's face widened into a smile. "Well, if it isn't my old friend!" he said. "Long time no see, Fenchurch!"

"I've missed you too," Fenchurch replied. "Of course, facing opposite ways does make things harder to talk, or talk about I suppose, but it minimises the operational headaches."

With their whistles sounding, Sutton and Knowle moved off into the yard to collect their coaches, followed by Newport and Freshwater shortly afterwards.

"Weren't they seen around Sheffield once?" asked a bystander.

"Newport and Freshwater aren't mainline registered, so no," said another. "I have no clue what you're referring to."

Soon, it was the turn of Stepney and Fenchurch to exit the yard. They gently rolled back towards the shunt signal as the first train of the day got underway, two BR Black Terriers puffing away with the MK1 coaches Stepney had delivered the previous day.

They waited for the signal in front to clear as Newport and Freshwater moved out of the yard with their coaches, a rake of old LSWR bogie coaches, and pushed them into the end sidings so they could run round them. This gave Stepney and Fenchurch an opening, so they went to the headshunt and stopped. Sweetie Belle ran back and set the points to the correct siding. Sitting at the end of this siding was an immaculately kept rake of LBSCR four wheel coaches, their paintwork fresh, their brasswork so finely polished it gleamed in the sunlight. Both engines backed down slowly onto the train, with Stepney facing the first guard's coach, and they rolled into them with a gentle bump. Once they had been hooked up, they moved forward again to the headshunt, and then reversed into the Down Platform to form the first departure of the day to Wootton. That day had a very busy timetable, with trains constantly intersecting each other, and some even running down to the Pier Head through the tunnel (which a Terrier could just about squeeze through). In all, quite an exciting day lay ahead.

A few minutes passed, and Stepney got tired of looking at the front of a coach endlessly. "When is Boxhill going to get here?" he asked.

Moments later, a shrill whistle echoed through the air, and Boxhill rattled through with a goods train running direct to Smallbrook Junction. He would be routed into the loop to let Sutton and Knowle return with their train (Newport and Freshwater had run down to the Pier Head first to allow the goods into the loop). At long last, the signal arm dropped, and it was time to go.

"Come on!" Stepney said, and surged backwards, clanging into Fenchurch and pulling the coaches forward.

"Steady on!" Fenchurch replied. "There's plenty of time yet!" The two engines snorted up the grade to Wootton, and despite the fierce gradient they were challenged with made short work of the climb to the station that lay at the end of the line. As Fenchurch had predicted, the lineside was festooned with reporters, cameramen, keen trainspotters (notebooks always at the ready, alongside a few old copies of Ian Allan ABCs and the odd Combined Volume scattered in here and there). Stepney was, like most preserved engines, used to being filmed and photographed, as that sort of clientele frequented Sodor pretty much daily. At Wootton station, the two engines were run round their train, and attached to the other end. Passengers swarmed all across the platform to see the two old engines, who had a combined age of nearly 300 years old. At long last, it was time to go again, and they proceeded back to Havenstreet where Sutton and Knowle were waiting to proceed up from Havenstreet to Wootton. The signal for Stepney (who was now leading the train), was clear, and once the passengers were done getting on and off, they set off with a thunderous roar for the gradient up to Ashey, which was a tough climb even on two Terriers and a few coaches (which were, of course, unpowered). They made the run to Smallbrook Junction in good time, letting the train that had gone to the Pier Head through first, and watched as an underground train rattled by on the mainline.

This pattern went on without a hitch throughout the entire day, and by day's end, all the engines were very happy indeed with all that had been done. As Stepney dropped back onto the shed, his fire was dropped, and he simmered amongst his surviving brothers and sisters, who had all worked together for the first time in several decades.

As he rested, gently, a thought suddenly went across his mind. Duck had gone to the mainland and he had come here. So, what had been happening on the Island of Sodor whilst both of them were away?