"You know what?"
Argyle turned to his wife as he finished cleaning a bowl. "No, I'm afraid I don't. You haven't told me what it is you're thinking of."
"Well, seeing as Sunny wants to host a sleepover here tonight, I was thinking we could head somewhere else, like we did on the old days."
"You mean go to town?" Argyle replied. "It's a bit late to be going to London, isn't it? It'd be 10 when we got there, and in order to be back at a reasonable time we'd be catching a sleeper."
"Not quite that far," Goldie replied to her husband's reply. "I was thinking somewhere a bit more local. How about... Penzance?"
"How exotic!" Argyle smiled. "That sounds like a good idea. I'll just finish cleaning this lot up, and then get ready. I believe an express to Penzance calls at Truro at 6, so that gives us a few hours to get ready."
"And make sure to tell Sunny where we'll be," Goldie added.
"Well, naturally. It'd be silly to leave her worrying."
After informing Sunny and the others where they were going to be, and ensuring she knew who to call if they had any difficulties, the duo set off for the station. For some reason a jazz band were playing outside the station, and the train was waiting in the platform for them.
And Alexandra was more than up to the task. The railmotor puffed gently as they climbed along the Cornish coastline, the sun beaming down on the cliff face.
"Quite romantic, this," Argyle said. "Scenes like this would have been an everyday sight about 100 years ago."
"The windows are also better than on the old DMUs," Goldie admitted. "We can clearly see the sea from in here!"
Eventually, they arrived at Truro. "This is Truro," said Lord Haven over the speaker trumpet. "Please change here for trains to Penzance or Paddington."
"Quite the choice, huh?" Goldie smiled, as she stepped out onto the platform. Ray whistled from the yard as he headed onto the branch with a goods train, before a very long train arrived in the platform. It was painted dark green, and the lead and rear cars looked like bullets.
"Didn't know we had bullet trains in Britain!" Argyle joked.
"I'm an IET," the train said. "That stands for Intercity Electric Train."
"Ah!" Argyle said. "Currently running on batteries, I guess."
They found their carriage and boarded, and within minutes they were gliding away through the Cornish countryside, albeit surrounded on most sides by trees. But at last they flew down the seafront, and past the diesel depot that stood on the seafront. The limitless boundaries of the sea opened up on the left hand side as they flew along, before slowing down for the final stop at Penzance.
Penzance, much like Truro, was a town that had been built by the sea. A large scale trading port, it had once been home to pirates. These days, however, it was popular with day trippers and evening traffic, just like the ones we had today.
The duo got off the train, and looked down the platform at the trainshed sitting over the platform. "When were we last here?" Argyle said.
"Many years ago," Goldie replied. "But the memories feel as though they were yesterday. Anything you planned on doing?"
"I was thinking of leaving that to you. After all, this was your idea."
As they headed off down the platform, they didn't notice a saddle tank roll into the carriage sidings from a hidden track, followed by Boomer getting off. "Took you long enough, you useless engine," he grumbled, as he set off towards the station.
After enjoying a superb meal and taking in an open air performance from a local folk band, Argyle and Goldie began to make their way back towards the station. "Well, that was fun!" Argyle smiled.
"Remember how hot it used to get on the old trains?" Goldie said. "Good thing these new ones have air conditioning!"
As they arrived at the station, a man dressed mostly in leather stopped before them. "Ah, Goldie! Been a long time. Do something new with your hair?"
"Good evening to you too, Peter," Goldie replied, her voice suddenly devoid of warmth and sounding rather annoyed. "Yes. It has been a long time. And I would have preferred it to be longer."
"Just know I'm always available if you get bored of him," Peter said, as he walked away, back towards the yard.
Goldie rolled her eyes. "Still at it, I see."
"Who was that?" Argyle asked.
"Peter Boomer," Goldie told him. "We dated briefly when I was in college. I broke off the relationship when I could sense he wanted to move things in a more romantic direction. At the time I wasn't ready to commit to something like that."
"I understand," Argyle said. The pair walked down the platform, and suddenly saw a tank engine sitting in the yard. It was of average length for an 0-6-0, with a green saddle tank that didn't quite extend as far as the smokebox. The dome was oddly square, and it had an unusually shaped cab with a large bunker. A jumble of machinery was visible on the side, and the frames were quite squat.
He was speaking to a man. And they didn't seem happy.
"You exist to do as I tell you," the man said, revealing them to be Peter. "Get that cargo moved to the facility."
"What you are doing is illegal!" the tank engine said, confirming them to be male. "I can't do this any longer!"
Suddenly, the darkness was broken by a flaming torch. "That will be quite enough," Peter said coldly, his voice conveying something of malice. "If you aren't prepared to do as you are told... there's a scrapyard with your name on it." And he walked away to check some things.
"I recognise that voice," Argyle said, and dashed along the platform. "Could it be?"
The engine looked over and suddenly looked amazed. "Argyle?" he asked. "Can it be?"
"Brookes! It's been a long time since I last saw you!" Argyle said. "I never thought I'd see you again."
"Who is this?" Goldie asked.
"When I were just a boy, we lived next to an industrial facility. Brookes here was the shunter at that facility. I had no idea he'd survived!"
"I may not, based on the way Boomer is acting," Brookes said.
"Boomer?"
"P. T. Boomer," Brookes explained. "He's running the show around here. I don't like it, but when the cutter's torch is hanging over your smokebox, so to speak, I don't have much of a choice."
Then he said the five words guaranteed to move any railway enthusiast to tears.
"Please don't let me die."
Argyle froze up for a second, and then his face shifted to one of determination. "I won't," he said. "I let you down before. I won't make the same mistake twice."
Without hesitating, he jumped down from the platform and ran over. Once on the footplate, he looked over to Goldie. "Come on! What you waiting for?"
"Isn't this technically stealing?"
"Not when the object in question wants to go!" Argyle replied. "Let's go, before Boomer gets back!"
Goldie needed no prompting, and made her way over before climbing into the cab. "Glad I decided to wear trousers tonight," she said.
After a few last adjustments, Argyle advanced the regular. Brookes began to roll forward and towards the end of the yard. He rolled over the pointwork, and onto the main line. The signaller clearly though this was a main line train, and set the points for the main line.
They puffed along the line, looking truly magnificent as they went along. Up and down hills they went, rarely stopping (apart from one incident where they called out the fire brigade to get some water). But at last they made it to Truro, where they placed Brookes in the yard.
"We'll couple you into a goods train to take you down to Falmouth, where you'll be safe," Argyle told Brookes. "Not all humans are cruel. There are many who care about engines, and want to keep them in working order."
"Thank you for rescuing me from those people," Brookes replied, as he was attached to the goods. "I won't waste this second chance. That's a promise."
"Never a problem," Goldie said. "Now, we'd best be finding somewhere to rest. I think the last train to Falmouth has departed."
"Not so, you two!" called a familiar voice. Alexandra rumbled into a nearby platform and came to a stop. "The signalman called ahead to let us know what was happening. Nice to see a new face around here, though we could do with a dedicated shunter for Truro Yard."
It had certainly been an eventful night out. But it had been lucky they had gone that night, or else a fine engine may well have been lost to the cutter's torch.