Whilst everything else was going on in the Goodrington Area, let us take a moment to focus on the parents of both Sunny and Izzy. Whilst they very much regarded with as a working holiday of sorts, they still did take the opportunity to relax and enjoy the scenery whilst they were there.
This was the case one afternoon, as the four adults sat in the outdoor seating area of a cafe. This cafe happened to sit next to the strange and mysterious mural that had appeared not long earlier. "So, this Sneaksy person, huh?" Argyle said. "What do we think of them, huh?"
"Good artist, considering they work with spray cans," Goldie said, looking closely at the image. "I can't help but feel something feels oddly familiar about it though."
"What do you mean?" Aurora asked.
"Well, you see the large amounts of glitter in it? There's also some macaroni in there as well. I can't think of many artists who use that in their artwork."
Isaac snorted. "You're not implying that Izzy is Sneaksy? That's patently absurd."
"Besides, some would argue that this form of artwork is vandalism, irrespective of who does it or what the intention is. And in the hopes of not annoying a certain policeman, the law is the law," Aurora noted, as she sipped on a lemonade. "Hmm. Packs quite a punch. Sunny should try sticking some lemonade in her smoothies at some point."
"She's already talking of doing mixed flavours," Argyle answered. "One of her bright ideas is 'strawnana', whatever that is."
"Strawberry and banana blend very well, actually," Isaac said. "It's a combination I like."
Once they had finished their drinks, they decided it was time to head towards town and see what there was to see at the side of the sea. Trains were continuing to rattle up and down and had happy holidaymakers onboard, all of whom seemed to be utterly delighted by the sun and the sea. Porter was also at work in the carriage sidings, propelling trucks about in readiness for future journeys.
As they approached the station, keen to turn into the town centre and sample some of the shopping delights. "If Pipp were here, shoe'd probably livestream the local shopping experience," Goldie commented.
"I'm still not a fan of her loose grasp of English," Isaac grumbled. "What exactly is a 'snackable', anyway?"
Just then, a great commotion started up from the station, and the four went over to take a look. Several passengers had gathered on the platform and were talking to a woman in uniform. The passengers all looked quite annoyed.
"What do you mean there isn't another one?" asked one of the passengers.
"I really am sorry," the woman said, "but we really have hit unfortunate circumstances. Not only is there this strike going on, but the rails limit speed owing to the heat. It was the failure of several trains that tipped us over the edge. We really have no extra capacity in the system unless somebody can rustle up something out of thin air."
"Why not have a heritage locomotive work the train?" said a passenger, as a joke.
"Now is not the time for silly comments!" said another.
Argyle overheard this, and realised he could help. "We may have something that will help out in that regard," he said. "We'll just need a bit to sort it out with the Kingswear line."
About half an hour later, a large diesel with a long bonnet rolled into the platform, pulling an eclectic range of coaches. "A mainline sprint to Exeter?" he said. "It'll be like in the old days. I used to do the Edinburgh to Dundee runs back when everything was painted blue. The corner around Burntisland was always the tricky bit, you know, but once you were round that it was home free."
The adults were focused more on getting the train stopped, and the engine accidentally overshot the platform and parked on the level crossing.
"Passengers, we apologise for the overshoot," Argyle said over a speaker, and set the engine to reverse. His eyes focused on the gauges. "This Class 40 is a good deal more complicated than Salty. Goldie, can you keep an eye on the amp gauges?"
"Of course!" Goldie replied. She picked up another radio. "Everything good back there?"
Aurora radioed forward. "Passenger boarding is going well. Here's hoping it isn't chaos in there when we arrive."
"Thank you!" Goldie replied, and put the radio back. "What was this diesel called again?"
"Hamish, I think it was," Argyle replied, and leaned out of the cab window. "I can see why they called you Whistlers! Just listen to that turbocharger!"
"Magnificent sound, isn't it?" Hamish replied, in his West Lothian accent. "We were once the pride of Britain's diesel fleet. Arguably we still are, what with all these modern things around."
A DMU rolled into the other platform just as the guard blew his whistle and waved his green flag. Argyle blasted the horn in response and they were away!
A gentle application of the throttle was made, and the train was away, rumbling magnificently over the crossing and into the first gradient. The engine was more than taking it in stride, the tone still whistling as they rolled along.
They rumbled down the first gradient and made the first booked stop in Torquay, where several passengers were initially confused, thinking that a railtour had stopped there by mistake. Once Isaac had cleaned up the confusion, they were on their way once more. Once out of the station, Argyle opened the engine up, twin jets of diesel exhaust rising into the skies and revealing their position. Hamish roared as he climbed the steep grade, his engine certainly getting a workout as he rattled up the 1 in fifty gradient.
Once he was through, Torre was skipped, and they were running downhill once more into Newton Abbot.
Aurora noted the station name. "Izzy mentioned this place once. Something about a wrong turn?"
"She calls it 'the luckiest wrong turn in history'," Isaac said. "Because if she hadn't been sent the wrong way, she and Sunny would never have met. Those two really are inseperable."
The guard blew his whistle once again, and they were on the move. People had turned out at the lineside to see such a magnificent sight racing along the railway line, especially with such nicely kept coaches. Diesel railtours are quite common on the Devonian Riviera, but it was rare to see an engine like this so far from home.
Speeds stayed steady as they continued to work at speed towards their ultimate target of Exeter. "Amps holding steady!" Goldie called.
Argyle checked the speedometer. "75 and holding!" he called. "How you holding up, Hamish?"
There was no reply. Presumably because Hamish couldn't hear him as the engine was too loud.
Argyle adjusted power once again and had the formation thundering through Starcross producing enough noise to rival a Castle. But alas, all journeys must come to an end, and as they pulled into Exeter they were rather saddened to see that it was over.
Argyle wiped some soot off his face. "I know we've been through a lot this last year," he said, "but that truly was something special. Thanks for helping us out, Hamish."
"No problem," Hamish replied. "I was doing what I was built to do- get passengers from one place to another in safety and comfort.
A Western suddenly blazed through on the other line, his horn blasting as he passed. "Three cheers for vintage traction!" he called.
And this was a sentiment many agreed with. When modern tech fails, sometimes it's the older equipment that saves the day.