//------------------------------//
// Remember me to one who lives there... 
// Story: Thomas and Friends: Journey beyond Cornwall 
// by The Blue EM2 
//------------------------------//

Porter and Bellerophon's epic cross-country voyage was soon underway once more, and the train soon joined the main line at Truro. "At last! The north beckons!" Porter called.

"You're from there, aren't you?" Bellerophon said.

"Sort of. Although my preservation home was originally Bury, I was built at Derby in the East Midlands."

"And I'm from Merseyside," Bellerophon admitted. "So, sort of right ballpark, but a bit further south." He sighed as they rattled along. "It'd be nice to go back some day and see what's become of the place."

As they continued on their way, the trucks rolling and bouncing behind them, it soon became apparent there was another problem they hadn't factored in. "We need to stop!" Misty called forward.

"Why?" Izzy asked.

"Water's looking a bit low. I need to top up the well tank."

"Thirsty one, isn't he?" Izzy asked. "Sure. I'll give a water tanker a call and we can get some more."

"How precisely are we getting all these water tankers, anyway?" Porter asked.

"It's the same company that supplies railtours with water."

"Clever. Network Rail does seem to like removing all the water towers for some reason."

The pair of engines rumbled onwards towards London. Their journey had taken many hours, but at last they rattled through the junctions and were now below the city.

"Ooooh! Spooky dark tunnel!" Izzy said. "I wonder if it has ghosts?"

Suddenly, a blinding light shot past. "Go back to the museum, you two!"

"I don't think steam engines come here very often," Misty said. "Come to think of it, this isn't exactly suited for steam engines."

At the other end of the tunnel, they finally emerged from it, climbing into the brilliant light of St. Pancras Thameslink. "Brightly coloured station, I'll give them that," Porter noted. "Which way is out?"

"Behind us," Izzy said. "We'll have to run round to continue our journey." She picked up a radio handset, as Porter had been fitted with a radio to contact the harbourmaster for shunting moves. "98223 to St. Pancras Signalling Control, are you receiving me, over?"

"St. Pancras Signalling Control to 98223, I am receiving you loud and clear. Please state your message and platform, over."

"98223 to St. Pancras Signalling Control, request permission to leave train and run round. Platform is One, over."

"St. Pancras Signalling Control to 98223, you have permission to leave your train and run round. Please be aware we have a Thameslink service approaching and you may get held up at the northern end of the crossover, over."

"98223 to St. Pancras Signalling Control, understand that I have permission to leave the train and run round. Out."

Misty hopped out to uncouple the stock, and with a hiss of steam and piping the two engines moved off. Commuters had gathered to watch this most unusual sight, as two steam engines moved about in the station. The pair crossed over to the northern threshold, where they were indeed held to let a passenger train arrive.

"Ugly thing, isn't it?" Bellerophon commented. "These modern locomotive designers seem to exclusively make bricks and attach wheels to them. No sense of taste."

"Sounds rather like some steam era locos," Porter replied. "Legend has it that when William Stanier saw the Bulleid Q1 for the first time, his first question was 'where's the key'?"

Both engines were then cleared to reverse through Platform 2, and moved to the opposite end of the station before attaching to the other end. Luckily, they had taken the precaution to include two brake vans within the formation, and away they went up the steep slope out of the station.

Bellerophon was now leading, and he was puffing with all his might.

"Having trouble up there, old timer?" Porter asked.

"You're no spring chicken yourself!" the well tank replied.

"Guys, less arguing, more pulling!" Misty called.

They pulled and puffed and puffed and pulled, until at last they had cleared the tunnel and were in sunlight once more. This time under overhead wires. "Finsbury Park," Izzy read off a nearby station board. "We're almost there! Only 240 miles to go!"

"240 miles?" Bellerophon said. "That's very far."

"Not a worry," Porter replied.

"I know what'll liven up your trip," said an electric locomotive sitting on a nearby siding, before music began to play.

Porter was not pleased. "I HATE THIS SONG!"





The journey up most of the United Kingdom proved to be quite simple, all things considered. The train was limited to the slow lines through Stevenage and up to nearly Peterborough, but the trains that passed them seemed to be most fascinated by this image of two old steam engines and vintage wagons rolling along the modern main line. At long last, they were closing in on their destination.

"Welcome to Yorkshire?" Misty read. "We're close, right?"

"That's right," Bellerophon said. "Home of white pudding."

There was suddenly a noise from the cab of Porter of somebody jumping in a bucket. Moments later, there was singing.

"And did those feet in ancient time,
Walk upon England's mountains green!"

Porter sighed. "Nice one, mate."





As they approached Doncaster, something interesting happened. Not long before the station, the lines split in four different directions. One line goes off to Middlesbrough and Saltburn. Another is the direct route to the North, bypassing the station (this means nonstop trains can continue through Darlington without needing to slow down). The third takes you into the station itself. And the fourth is a freight loop which goes around the region so freight trains don't clog up the main line.

It was onto this fourth line our train was routed, and it rumbled along as it began to run through industrial scenery. This included things such as a power station, and several wharfs serving a canal.

"It's like a dockside here!" Porter remarked, watching the world moving away from him.

"Escpecially with all these cranes!" Izzy added. "Can they fly?"

"That's the wrong type of crane," Misty said. "You're thinking of the bird."

Suddenly, they were brought to a stop. "HALT!"

The train screeched to a halt at a red signal. Sitting next to it was a large dock crane, who looked down at them with a scowl. He was painted grey, and stood out against the sky above. "Who goes there?"

"We're a goods train heading for Darlington," Bellerophon replied.

"I see," the crane said. "None shall pass. Unless if you wish to pass by me, you first must answer questions three."

"Slightly odd English, but OK," Porter noted.

"Well, I needed something to rhyme with me," the crane said. "Still, for those intent to pass by me, here are the questions three." He paused for dramatic effect, and then spoke again, his voice sounding with wisdom and intelligence.

"What is always in front of you but cannot be seen? I am a word of letters three; add two and fewer there will be. I see your face, yet I have no eyes. I have no hands, yet you feel my touch. You hear my voice, yet I have no mouth. Who am I?"

Izzy thought for a moment. "I've got it!" she said.

"Cue overused joke!" Misty replied.

"The first one is the future, as the future is always before us but we cannot see it. The second is few, as this has three letters, and if you add two you end up with the word fewer. And the third is my reflection, as you see your own face in a reflection, feel your own touch if it's water, and if you speak the mouth of the reflection moves in sync with yours."

The crane smiled. "Very good," he said. The signal switched to green. "You may proceed."

The freight then set off, wondering to themselves what on Earth they had just witnessed.





The sky was beginning to turn red when the freight arrived at a yard in the middle of nowhere. "Maybe this is it?" Izzy asked.

"This place looks abandoned," Misty replied. "The signboards are a bit out of date as well, as they reference the LNER in the present tense."

"Well, we need to yard somewhere, so this might as well do," Izzy replied. The train proceeded into the yard, noting the sidings with some rolling stock, and then a voice suddenly spoke up.

"A visitor? It's been a long time since we last had one of those!"