Seaside! We're off to the Seaside! We're Gonna have a Lovely Day!
Even heroes need a rest, and this is certainly true of the Falmouth team. After a truly hectic year, there is nothing people value more than a summer holiday. And in this collection, they and their engines travel to various different parts of the country, soaking up sun, sand, and challenging rail operations in the difficult conditions that the summer can often bring.
The stories in this anthology are a mixture of Tell your Tale and Thomas and Friends adaptions.
It was summertime in Britain, and this naturally meant holidays for many people. Some people like to head away to the mountains. Others prefer to travel to the sea. And still others prefer to go overseas for their bit of fun, enjoying either culture of foreign lands or spending the entire time getting a tan (which they could have done much more cheaply at home).
One part of the land to seaside pipeline is the North Yorkshire Moors Railway. This is a heritage line which runs between Pickering and Grosmont, and runs special trains between Grosmont and Whitby for people wanting to visit this lovely seaside town and take advantage of fish and chips.
The Havens had travelled here for the summer to stay with relatives in Yorkshire, and this meant they were also helping out on the North Yorkshire Moors. This was especially important, as it was hot and dry.
One morning, Zipp and Charles were working the early morning Grosmont to Pickering service. This train ran relatively fast to Pickering so it could be quickly turned around and sent back towards Whitby. As the train rolled into Levisham, the last intermediate stop before Pickering, Charles spotted something on the line ahead.
"What do that engineering crew think they're doing?" he asked. "They're blocking the progress of important engines!"
"Probably another lineside fire," Zipp replied. "They seem to be a particular problem around this time of year."
Lineside fires can be caused by many factors, but the main factor is sparks ejected from the chimney of a steam locomotive coming into contact with dry vegetation. The railway had recruited additional staff to help with the fires, but the fire beaters could only be in so many places at once.
After a few minutes, the fire was out. The water transport retreated to the other platform. "Sorry for the delay, love!" the lead firebeater called to Zipp. "It's these bloomin' fires! We need more water to put them out, but the council have turned the water off to ensure people in the town get enough!"
Zipp nodded. "Good thing they can't turn off the lemonade or the diesel fuel!"
Her attention was then drawn to a commotion on the platform. A passenger and his family had arrived, and they looked very cross.
"We came to ride on a steam train!" said the mother, looking very cross. "This is a steam railway, after all! This box of bolts won't do at all!"
Charles seethed with anger. "How dare you," he spluttered. "I'll have you know I'm just as capable of pulling trains as I was when I rolled out of the works 60 years ago!"
"Heritage railways must operate steam engines! It's the law of the land!" said the father. "These old diesels break down all the time and make a horrendous smell!"
Zipp leaned out of the cab. "We don't have a choice," she said. "Local authority put a steam ban into place with this weather. If you don't want to travel by diesel, nobody is forcing you."
"Then how come the King got a steam train and we don't?" the father retorted.
Zipp resisted the urge to facepalm. "The steam engine was basically decoration. The diesel on the back was doing all the work."
"And you wouldn't want to travel behind that diesel, trust me," Charles added. "Class 67s are silly and look ridiculous."
The child looked to be rather reasonable in temprament. "Why don't we just travel to Whitby?" she said. "It's better than taking the car, and we can make steam train noises as we go along!"
The family begrudgingly boarded, with the father commenting he would be filing a formal complaint with the Board. Charles set off down the line, his engine rumbling magnificently as he set off on the final leg of what should have been a very easy journey.
Unfortunately, things soon started to go wrong. As Charles rolled down the line, there was a strange squeaking sound. "Can you hear mice?" Charles asked his driver.
Zipp popped open the cab window and listened. "Sounds like a bearing's a bit low on lubrication fluid," she said. "Reducing speed until we get to Pickering."
The formation slowed down to around fifteen miles an hour, allowing the passengers more of a chance to enjoy the scenery. The squeaking also got quieter as well, which was always a welcome factor.
At last, the train reached Pickering, and the few passengers who had joined got off. Zipp handed the engine over to another crew to run round. It was standard during the peak summer timetable to have the main driver get off whilst another crew ran the engine round. This allowed them to get refreshment before starting the return trip. Zipp popped into the mess for a quick drink before hearing a familiar voice trying to direct traffic.
"Excuse me? Passengers with surnames ending A to M proceed to the first five coaches. Plassengers with surnames beginning with the letters N to Z proceed to the rear five coaches."
Unfortunately, the passengers were paying absolutely no attention whatsoever to the barrier system, and were simply getting on where they wanted.
Pipp was getting frustrated. "This is like trying to herd sheep!" she said. "You'd think people would be able to understand a concept such as surnames in different lines, but the second they go to another town they all seem to turn entitled!"
Zipp had an idea. She grabbed a megaphone and jumped on top of an old luggage cart. "Good morning, everybody!" she said. "Now then, I know we're having a bit of trouble with the queueing system, but it's very important you sit in the seats indicated in the tickets. Otherwise people might not be able to sit with their families. And you wouldn't want to be responsible for splitting up a family, would you?"
The passengers paid no attention.
"If you do sit in the correct seats, it'll make serving fish and chips faster."
The passengers went to the correct queues almost immediately.
Zipp hopped down from the trolley. "See? Food bribery usually does the trick."
Then Lady Haven arrived. "Hello girls," she said. "I hope you two have been having more luck than I have. Managing the booking office is an absolute nightmare!"
"Your OCD kicking in?" Zipp asked.
"Most certainly," Lady Haven replied. "Not only that, we've had repeated diesel problems. The crews here aren't used to them at all."
As if to prove her point, the sound of a diesel shunter stalling echoed as the driver put it in the wrong gear. "Sorry!"
Zipp rolled her eyes. "If they usually operate steam locos, they'll be trying to drive them like steam locos. The principles are completely different. If only somebody could teach them how to operate them!"
"I have no idea how you rope me into these things, Pipp," Zipp said, her eyes looking to the floor.
"Think of it as doing everybody a good service!" Pipp replied.
"But I'm not a teacher! I do things, not tell things!"
"You never know until you try. None of us knew how AMAZING we are at singing until we tried!"
"That's not the same," Zipp said, as the other drivers began to file in. "Welcome to WINGS. The..." she trailed off as she looked at her paperwork. "The Wonderful Institute of No Goods Services? Pipp, that doesn't even make any sense!"
"We need a catchy name or else people will nod off halfway through the presentation!"
Zipp groaned. "Fine. This course is meant to teach you the basics of diesel operation. Now, who can tell me how a diesel engine works?"
"You put some fuel in it and off it goes," said a voice.
"That's sort of correct. Basically, the engine compresses the fuel and creates explosions, which are then used to drive a generator which turns the wheels." Zipp paused. "In order to operate a heritage one, there are a number of things to keep in mind. Next slide."
There was a click as the slide was changed. "This is the cab of a Class 25, or Rat. You have two of these at the North Yorkshire Moors, so operating them should be fairly simple. The critical controls are the reverser, brakes, throttle, and gauges. Reverser controls direction, but it only has four positions; forward, backward, neutral, and off. Forward and backward are only used when going forward and backward. Neutral is used when the train is stationary, and off is used when shutting down the cab in order to change ends. The throttle controls speed through regulating the speed of the engine. A vintage diesel engine usually has two brake handles; loco and train. Loco brakes only control the brakes on the locomotive, whereas train brakes control the brakes on the train. Finally, there are brake gauges and the amp meter. The traction motor performance is rated in amps. When starting off you should not exceed 1800 amps or you risk shorting them out."
She stopped. "Any questions so far?"
"When do we get to put this to the test?"
"We can do some in-person training once we have an available locomotive. Next slide."
The next slide popped up- with an advert for a local tea shop.
"Pipp?! What's this doing in here?"
"I had to monetize the stream somehow!"
Zipp facepalmed. "Just move to the next slide that actually has something useful on it."
Moments later, they did. "We'll be using a Class 25 for training purposes, so this video will show you how to start off safely. Watch it closely."
Zipp gradually began to work her way through the candidates of the training program, showing them the correct process for running the engine. Things initially seemed to be going pretty well, with most of the recruits having gotten the hang of the idea.
Unfortunately, this didn't always work out. One person was far too aggressive with the throttle. The engine roared as he made the application.
"Reduce power!" Zipp shouted. "You've exceeded the starting amp limit!"
The recruit either didn't hear or didn't notice. There was a bang as a safety system engaged, and the train rolled to a stop. "What happened?" she asked.
Zipp looked over. "You exceeded 1800 amps when moving off, and the safety cutoff has engaged to prevent damage to the traction motors. Unfortunately this means we'll need to wait a few hours." She shut down the cab, then got out. "Sorry, everyone. Engine needs a few hours to cool down."
There was a lot of grumbling. "Steam engines are never this tempramental!" said one.
"I don't trust this new fangled diesel nonsense!" said another, an older person. "It's not our fault it doesn't rain!"
Zipp rolled her eyes. "Why do I even bother?" she said, as Charles was put into position on the train. "I'll need to take a train myself now. Good luck with your information booklets. Hopefully we can do some more when I get back."
As she hopped into the cab, she got the sense she had wasted a considerable portion of her day.
The 10 coach formation made its way up the line, with the passengers enjoying their day on the railway. Zipp was monitoring Charles' performance when she suddenly noticed something odd.
"Power readings are slightly lower than normal," she said to herself. "Possibly a wobbly indicator."
"Zipp?" Charles said. "I've started squeaking again!"
Zipp stuck her head out of the cab again to listen. Sure enough, the suspicious squeak was back. "Did the yard crew remember to top up the bearings?" she said. "I'll do it at Levisham. Reducing speed until then."
But when they got to Levisham there was bad news. Zipp was handed a telegram by the station master. "Train failed stop. You need to collect their passengers at Grosmont stop. Do not stop along the way stop."
"Can we hurry it up?" shouted an impatient passenger. "We want to go to the seaside!"
Zipp reluctantly took power, hoping the bearing problem would hold until they at least got to Grosmont. But as they were moving along, a strange rattling noise joined the squeaking.
"What's that?" Charles asked.
"I don't know," Zipp said. "Reducing throttle again until we can stop."
The guard then radioed. "I've got a lot of passengers asking why we're going so slowly," he said. "Is everything OK up there?"
Zipp radioed back. "No. There's some sort of problem that needs rectifying. I'm running Charles under reduced power until we can figure out what's wrong."
When they got to Goathland, Zipp at last had a chance to take a look at the issues. She topped up each bearing with lubricating oil, then she changed some switches and took a look in the engine room, having slipped on some ear defenders in the meantime.
It was then she saw the problem. The second engine was vibrating badly, but shook more often to one side than the other. "That doesn't look good. Seems like the valves are out of alignment. Now how do I fix this?"
She consulted the diagrams and tried to locate the right circuit, but the pressure of getting there on time and not disappointing the passengers was starting to get to her. Just then, she remembered something.
Zipp had no idea what to do. The set had stopped working and she had no idea why. She'd checked the wheels, the bearings, the pickups, everything. Nothing was working.
"Why won't it work?" she protested.
This, it seemed, caught the attention of somebody else in the house. Lady Haven entered a moment later, followed by Lord Haven. "What won't work?" she asked.
Zipp pointed to the problem. "This train won't run!"
Lord Haven nodded. "Have you looked through the troubleshooting guide?"
"Yes, but no luck," Zipp sighed. "Perhaps it's broken?"
To her surprise, Lord Haven then glanced over to the wall. "The plug's come out," he said. "It's not receiving any electricity." He pushed the plug back in and, sure enough, the train was moving again.
Zipp grinned as the train began moving again. "Thank you so much!" she said.
Lady Haven smiled in return. "Sometimes, Zara, all it takes is keeping calm and having a clear head. If you do that, you can much more easily spot the problem."
Zipp nodded back in the present. "Gotcha, mom." She calmly moved into the cab first and shut down both engines. Then she went back into the engine room and threw two isolator switches. These disconnected the damaged engine and meant it was no longer supplying power.
"Let's see if that at least holds," Zipp said. "You ready, Charles?"
"Let's make this run as good as possible," Charles said. "Full speed ahead!"
Zipp advanced the throttle as they pulled out of the platform. The train roared and rattled about as it flew along, rolling first down the gradient into Grosmont to pick up passengers, and then run onwards to Whitby. The noise was so great people thought a steam engine was passing by. They were instead amazed to see a diesel engine working at full power, doing what it was built more or less to do (though possibly not with a train this heavy).
Upon arrival at Whitby, the passengers were so glad to be at the seaside that they forgot to be cross about the delay, and instead spilled out of the station onto the beach, happy and content.
Zipp handed Charles over to a maintenance crew so he could be looked at. "He did the work of two engines, your diesel did!" said one of the engineers. "Will you be partaking in the sun?"
Zipp walked over to the other platform. "Don't have time, sadly," she said. "I've got some driver training to do. It turns out that just being sensible and methodical with a problem is the easiest way to fix it."
Thhhe soooouuuuuth Deeeevvooooon sssssuuuuun issss loooovely iiiin the suummmeeer, and wheeeeeeen the sssssssssky iiiiiiis bluuuuueeeeeeee-
Hang on a second, the narrator appears to be in Season 16 mode. Let me just speed him up a bit.
The south Devon sun is lovely in the summer, and when the sky is blue people flock to the beaches to enjoy. Many travel many miles. Some come by car. Others come by boat. And others still go by train.
One such spot is Goodrington Sands, a long beach which can be found near the town of Paignton, in Devon. People have come to sample the beaches here for a very long time. And the railways were quick to capitalise on this, with the local railway opening in 1859, and a dedicated station for the beach opening in 1928.
That railway is still there today, called the Kingswear Steam Railway and Riverboat Company. It is a common sight to see trains blasting past the beaches, with visitors waving to them as they roll by.
But the tourists can be a nuisance as well as a much needed boost to the local economy. This is because these people are not always very considerate of others, and have a bad habit of dumping a lot of rubbish where they have been.
One evening, Sunny, Izzy, and their families were helping to clean up the beach. "How can all these people produce so much mess?" Sunny asked. "Is it really too much effort to take their rubbish home with them?"
"I mean, they could unicycle it," Izzy suggested, looking through several boxes of non disposable plastic. "Imagine the things that could be moved in these! The meals that could be transported! Instead it just ends up in a landfill. I mean, just because it's trash don't mean you throw it away!"
Isaac hauled another bin off the beach and up to the station. "I think Izzy's getting ideas," he said to Aurora. "She's talking about unicycling again."
"Isn't that when you ride around on a pedal powered vehicle with one wheel?" Aurora asked.
"I dunno. Still, that's another bin removed." He removed the lid and revealed a lot of junk in it. "Packed to the rafters, and we still haven't cleaned half the beach!"
"They really should start fining people," Argyle said. "It's not fair on the people who live here."
"The people who do it don't care," Isaac explained. "As far as they're concerned, it's somebody else's problem."
Sunny and Izzy then joined them. "How are we going to move all this garbage?" Sunny asked.
Izzy grinned. "I think I have a solution."
"Have you loaded some sort of biohazard onto the train?" Porter asked, as he was attached to the trucks. "Because it stinks!"
"It's a trash train!" Izzy explained. "We're removing all of the rubbish people leave at the beach and taking it to places to be recycled and reused. Otherwise it would just be burned, and that is a waste of good resources."
"And what's that thing at the end?" Porter asked.
Salty had just attached another wagon onto the train. "It looks to be some sort of organ, me hearties!" he said. "It looks rather too small to be fitted in a church, though, so it may have been part of a travelling fair."
"The owner sold it to a scrapyard, so you're taking it there," Sunny explained. "Good luck. This load looks heavy."
The Kingswear branch is connected to the main line at Paignton via a single line, which is sometimes used by mainline trains to access the carriage sidings. A diesel train was moving into it, which meant Porter had to wait.
Once it was clear, Izzy sounded the whistle. But something sounded wrong. "The whistle sounds a bit odd!" she said.
"Hopefully it isn't a wonky whistle," Porter said. The signal then changed, and the train was now underway. The rather odd formation puffed through the Devon countryside, straining over the banks towards its destination of Newton Abbot goods yard. This was where the wagons full of rubbish would be dropped off and collected by a mainline engine for final transit to a dumping yard near Didcot. The weather remained pleasant as they rattled down the line, and sure enough they came across some people crossing the line.
Porter whistled to warn them- and didn't stop. "Izzy! That's a bit much!"
"I'm not doing anything!" Izzy replied, as they rolled down the hill. "The whistle valved has jammed open!"
The people below certainly got the warning, and ran across the line as Porter sped towards them. Then something far worse happened. Porter's whistle suddenly shot into the air and rocketed away, leaving a jet of steam coming out of the top of the firebox.
"Where'd my whistle go?" he asked.
Izzy brought Porter to a stop. "Somewhere up in the air," she said sadly. "We can't go look for it now. It could be anywhere!"
Not far from the line, a man called Headmaster Hastings was enjoying a walk, when suddenly a metal object landed in a pond next to him. "What was that?" he asked, as he went and looked.
"A steam whistle!" he said. "Not that I was expecting to find an electric whistle out here." He looked around, and saw a steam engine coming to a stop nearby. "Maybe it came from there!"
Izzy was looking at the boiler. "Even if we could repair the whistle I would have to wait for you to cool down," she said. "And the whistle is probably very hot at the moment. Too hot to handle, you could say."
"Oh the indignity," said Porter. "Charles is going to have a field day with this!"
"Excuse me?" said a voice. It was the voice of Headmaster Hastings. "Did you relieve yourself of a whistle recently?"
"That's mine," Porter said. "But we need a way of communicating with other trains. It isn't safe for a train to run with no whistle!"
"Or other means of communication," Izzy added.
"It's right there with you," Headmaster Hastings said. "That's the calliope from the old Churston Fair!"
"The what?" Porter asked.
"A calliope," Headmaster Hastings explained, "is a type of organ powered by steam. It consists of series of whistles, each of which are tuned to a different note. It can be used to play melodies, though it is very loud." He paused. "If you can connect some pipes to the organ, I can play it and warn the other trains that we are approaching!"
"We don't have any pipes," Porter said.
"But we can make them from the trash we've got!" Izzy said. "Time to get creative! I will need a box of macaroni, a tube of glue, fourteen gooey bunnies, and three jelly beans. Oh. And glitter. Lots of glitter."
After a few minutes of work, Izzy had jury-rigged a system of steam pipes from Porter to the calliope. Steam flooded into the pipes and into the organ, which gradually rose to operating pressure. "That should be good!" Izzy called. "Take it away, maestro!"
Headmaster Hastings smiled. "Just like old times." He began to play an elaborate tune to check all the whistles were functioning correctly. The sound caused the local public to turn out in amazement.
He turned to Izzy. "Some of the tuning is a bit wonky, but it should do the trick until we get to Newton Abbot!" he said.
Izzy gave a thumbs up, and opened the regulator after releasing the brakes. The train rolled off down the hill and towards Newton Abbot, with Headmaster Hastings sounding musical notes to emulate engine whistles as required.
Safe to say, nobody had ever seen anything like it. The train eventually arrived in the platform at Newton Abbot, with Headmaster Hastings till playing.
The diesel that was waiting to take the train onwards was amazed. "That was some real creativity, you three!" she said. "Safe to say, nobody had ever thought of that! And old Headmaster Hastings too!"
"I used to play similar instruments back in the day," Headmaster Hastings replied. "But none of this would have been possible without Izzy and her pipes. I shall purchase this organ and restore it to working order!"
That evening, Izzy finished fitting Porter with his whistle, and she went and joined Sunny on the beachfront. "That was an exciting day!" she said.
"Using that old organ to signal your approach was seriously clever," Sunny said. "You sure are good at improvising solutions from trash, Izzy."
"You know what they say. One person's trash is another person's treasure. And I made good use of the things I found. I really must try cosplaying some day." Izzy paused. "It's good to know that organ is going to a good home. Headmaster Hastings has said he'll take it to local fairs to show it off."
"I imagine it'll wow the crowds wherever it goes," Sunny said. "But we're yet to answer the most important question of all."
"Namely?"
"Haddock or cod?"
Izzy smiled. "Isn't the answer obvious? Cod in the south, haddock in the north!"
Salty looked at Porter. "What are they talking about?"
At the top end of Britain lies a wild and beautiful land called Scotland. A country known for its incredible landscapes, bustling cities, and remarkable food, Scotland is a nation many across the globe feel an affinity for, with many in North America able to trace their ancestry to Scotland.
It is also a land with many railway lines, although most of them are clustered into an area between Edinburgh, Glasgow, and Perth. Some of these lines run across wild terrain and feature difficult routes, but are a vital lifeline for their communities as road access to them is quite poor in many cases.
One of these railways is the West Highland Line. A spindly main line of over 100 miles, it runs from Glasgow to the highland town of Fort William, with an extension that takes passengers onwards to the port town of Mallaig, not far from where Bonnie Prince Charlie made his escape after the Jacobite Uprisings fell apart. And one of his descendants was now causing trouble in Britain, but is neither here nor there.
The legacy of the Jacobites had led to British Railways permitting steam operations over the extension every summer, operating under the Jacobite name. This is the only regular timetabled steam in the United Kingdom, and people flock from all over the world to see this remarkable sight every single year.
The fact that many landmarks along the route are closely associated with the Harry Potter franchise only helps to boost tourism numbers in the area.
And it is here that our story takes place. Hitch and his family had travelled up to Scotland to visit the highland sights. And they had even taken Rebecca with them, who had been stabled at the same shed where the engines for the Jacobite were kept.
Hitch woke up one morning and stepped out onto the balcony of the home his family had rented for the time being, which looked out over a lake. "I wonder if the monster is out yet," he joked, as he looked out over the water.
"Wrong loch, my dear," said a voice. Hitch turned back to see a pink skinned woman with white hair and red glasses joining him. She was seemingly already dressed in her trademark brown slacks and red cardigan. "That's Loch Ness. That's a fair way northwest of us."
"Just goes to show I don't know this place very well," Hitch replied. "Still, good to see you up, Grandma Figgy. I can go ahead and start preparing breakfast if you'd like."
"Let's let the others rest in for a bit," his grandmother replied. "Besides, I would think we should do it together. I'm only 70, you know. That's basically middle aged these days!"
Hitch nodded. "Of course."
Later on, the family had gathered around the dining table for a Highland breakfast (they had sourced the ingredients from the local butcher the previous night). The other two figures of note were a blue skinned man with greenish hair (cut exceptionally short) and grey eyes, dressed semi formally.
Semi formal did not describe the clothing of the woman sat next to him, which currently consisted of a T shirt and jeans. She had exceptionally frizzy red hair and orange skin, coupled with piercing green eyes. At the current moment they were looking over a map.
"Right!" the man said. "We should be able to fit a climb up the nearby hill in before we have to catch the train. In that incident, we should have worked off all the food we're currently eating and then ready for something light on the train."
"Must we run everything like a military campaign?" the woman said.
"You know my schedule, Marigold," the man replied. "You can take the man out of the army, but you can never take the army out of the man. Isn't that right, Hitch?"
"I'm technically not in the army, so I wouldn't know," Hitch replied. "But the Cadets have something similar, and I imagine law enforcement is the same."
"Well, yes, same principle," the man noted.
"Do remember that this is a holiday, not a boot camp, Trick," Grandma Figgy replied. "Not all of us can keep up with you as easily anymore."
"Well, I suppose we could delay departure by 15 minutes and five seconds-"
There was a sudden ringing from another room. Hitch recognised it as his ringtone. "Excuse me guys, but I should probably check who that was." He exited the room and saw it was the number he had swapped with the owner of the depot he had stabled Rebecca at.
He swiped the icon to green and answered the call. "Mr Riley?"
"Hello there," said the voice on the other end. "You guy the chap who owns the light pacific?"
"Yes, I am," Hitch replied. "Have I parked her incorrectly?"
"It's not an issue with your engine. It's an issue with ours." There was a pause. "Both the Black 5s failed on shed and need to be fixed, and we can't get them ready in time. I've already allocated our backup steam locomotive to the morning departure, but I don't want to use a diesel for the other as there'll be a riot if we do- it is the Jacobite steam train, after all, and you know how particular the public gets about a ride behind a steam engine, even if Class 37s are authentic traction for the route."
"Trust me, I do," Hitch replied. "I'll get down there as quickly as I can and get Rebecca fired up. I would suggest keeping the diesel on standby just in case something does go wrong."
"Of course. Have a pleasant day."
Hitch nodded as the line closed. "This puts a spanner in our plans, but needs must." He walked out of the room and back to the table.
"Who was it?" Trick asked.
"Guys, could you drop me off at the Fort William locomotive depot? It looks like I won't be riding on the Jacobite. I'll be driving it."
A few hours later, Rebecca was up to temperature. "Well, this is quite exciting!" she said, as Hitch moved her off the shed and towards the station. "I haven't done a working like this before. I hope the passengers understand."
"I mean, they did test run a Spam Can over the route a few years ago, so it should work," Hitch replied.
The long journey began at exactly half past two in the afternoon, and the formation steamed away into the Highlands. It climbed over the local hills and mountains, through tunnels, and off down the line towards the coasts of northern Scotland. They crossed with the other train at Arisaig, and soon coasted into Mallaig after a long journey.
It was then a commotion broke out on the platform. A DMU was parked in a nearby platform, and had seemingly broken down. The driver stood out the front, trying to calm the passengers.
"You'll have to seek alternate transport, I'm afraid," he said. "The DMU is broken down and will need fixing elsewhere."
"How are we meant to get home?" asked one person. "There's no bus for hours!"
"Blooming ScotRail Rubbish," grumbled another. "Just trust our line to get dodgy DMUs!"
Hitch overheard the commotion, and walked down the platform. "We could take them," he said.
"Take who?" asked the driver.
"The passengers from your train," Hitch explained. "We've got an entire empty carriage as a tour group never turned up, and that should be able to house your passengers."
"Thank you for your help," the driver said. "Not every day a steam engine rescues a diesel. Usually it's the other way around!"
After running Rebecca round the train, Hitch prepared the formation for departure and let the passengers board. As the sun hung high in the sky, he blasted the whistle and moved the entire train into reverse.
"I hope those extra passengers don't contribute too much weight!" Rebecca said. "Some of those hills were pretty steep."
"That depends on how much haggis they've eaten!" Hitch joked as the train rumbled along. Seeing all the scenery going by in reverse was a rather bizarre experience, but they made such good time that they even had time to pause on Glenfinnan Viaduct to let the passengers look down on the terrain below them. Once this was done, it was a relatively easy run back to Fort William.
The train stayed in the platform for a few minutes to let the public look at the train and photograph the engine. Many had kind words to say to Hitch, although one child asked why a diesel was working the train, and another was surprised at seeing a Southern engine so far north.
Trick was the proudest father there could be that day. "Excellent work, Hitch!" he said. "You've done the family proud. Now, to celebrate, I suggest we find the nicest establishment in town and have a hearty meal!"
"I'll need to put this lot away first, but that's a fantastic idea!" Hitch replied. After all, he had done his part, hand to heart.
It was a wonderful morning in Devon, and the engines were already hard at work. One of the trains rattled out of Paignton on its way to Kingswear, transporting lots of excited passengers to visit a wonderful lakeside town. The town of Kingswear and Dartmouth, to be precise.
This was not the case for Salty, however. He had to remain in the yard, as he wasn't powerful enough to pull most of the line's trains. He was, however, perfectly suited to shunting the coaches, and as such he was put to use assembling passenger trains for the remainder of the day's services.
As he rolled back and forth, he sang to himself. "Don't haul on the Rope! Don't climb up the Mast! And if you see a Sailing Ship it might well be your last!"
"Another traditional shanty?" Sunny asked.
"Indeed," Salty replied. "That's always a good one. Personally I prefer Dervina Harvey's version to Nathan Evans' take, but they both have their upsides."
Just then, there was conversation on the platform. A lot of important people had just appeared on the platform, dressed in such a manner you'd think the King had just arrived.
"This is most awful!" said one man, carrying a bell. "The Admiral will be here soon, and there's no train to convey him to Kingswear! Whatever shall we do?"
Salty overheard this. "I wonder what's going on?"
"Maybe you could ask him?" Sunny suggested. "You know what, I will." With that, she secured the parking brake and walked over to the group of people. "Hello? Is something the matter?"
"I'm afraid it is," said another man, who was carrying a large stick with a crown on it. "We, the Town Council, have teamed up with the council of Dartmouth to open a new museum to celebrate our local maritime history. Admiral Seaspray of the Royal Navy is made to be opening it. But with no train we cannot get him there!"
Sunny had a brainwave. "We could take you there!" she suggested.
The man with the bell glanced to Salty. "What, in that smelly old thing?!"
"He's perfectly capable of pulling up to three coaches on these gradients," Sunny replied. "Will three coaches be enough?"
"More than enough!" replied another fellow with an enormous hat. "That's the solution we shall use!"
About half an hour later, a man with blue skin and turquoise blue hair arrived, wearing a black uniform with gold embellishments in many places and white gloves. Sunny quickly inferred this was the dress uniform of an officer of the Royal Navy. "Good morning, gentlemen," he said. "I am Admiral Seaspray, and I trust this is the train?"
"It is, sir," said the man with the enormous hat. "I am aware it is not quite what you might have had in mind, but we had to improvise."
"These coaches seem altogether quite pleasant," Seaspray said. "I shall board immediately." And he did. "I wonder if we'll find the treasure this time?"
Salty overheard this. "What's all this about treasure?" he asked.
"I don't know," Sunny replied. "But let's get rolling. I suspect the Admiral is a man who does not like to be kept waiting."
As they rolled along the line, Salty noticed the Admiral was doing some very strange things. He leaned out of the window. "There's the eagle!" he said. "Note which way the beak is pointing!"
A figure behind him noted the direction. "Bearing of South South West, sir," she said.
"Excellent," the Admiral said. "That would put the clouds on land."
Salty was very confused. It was all very odd.
Sunny brought the train to a stop as Porter rolled by with some refridgerated vans. "Hello Salty!" he said. "Empty stock?"
"No," Salty replied. "An admiral of the Royal Navy needs to get to the end of the line for the opening of a museum."
"I've got some ice cream to spare if you need any in the heat!" Izzy said, producing a half-melted ice cream.
"Err, no thanks," Sunny replied, just as the signal changed. "See you later, Izzy!"
"See ya!"
Porter looked over and saw the Admiral looking at clouds. "What on Earth?"
As the train continued on its way, the odd behaviour from the party continued. "Was it clouds that aren't in the sky next?" the Admiral asked. "I think it was."
"Yes sir," the other sailor replied. "Possibly a reflection?"
As the train crested the bank and rolled into Churston, they went past a large puddle with clouds in it. Or rather, the reflection of clouds.
"Perfect!" the Admiral said. "We must be close!"
At Churston, they would have to wait for another train, and Sunny had a dispatch to read.
"Admiral is late stop. Speed up stop. Party is on tight schedule owing to rough waters stop. Advise using more powerful engine in future stop."
Sunny glanced up. "Well, bless me!" she said. "Somebody's impatient!"
"I'm not the fastest of diesels in all fairness," Salty replied. "But we should be able to get some speed up down into Kingswear."
Sure enough, the next train arrived, and they were soon underway again. After a relatively quick run down the hill they pulled into Kingswear, and the party quickly dismounted.
Moments later, Salty spotted something. "Look over there!" he said. "There's something glinting at the beach side, near the cafe there!"
This caught the Admiral's attention. "That's the last clue!" he said. "The skull and crossbones will reveal the lost treasure! We must dig it up without delay!"
"But what about the museum, sir?" said the main in the enormous hat, as they ran down the platform.
"The treasure will be a perfect exhibit to put in the museum, of course!" the Admiral replied.
After several minutes of digging, a box with six locks was unearthed. The Admiral, always one step ahead, produced six keys and opened each lock one by one. And inside were several beautiful gems and a lot of gold.
"At long last, the lost treasure of Captain Redbeard has been found!" Admiral Seaspray smiled. "I knew the clues would lead us here eventually."
Sunny then received another dispatch. "Remarkable find stop. Please excuse my impatience stop. Commendation for stepping in at short notice stop. Don't ever stop."
She turned to Salty. "Well, they found the treasure!" she said.
"And treasure of real life pirates too," Salty added. "It's a most shipshape day, me hearties!"
It was a sunny day on the North Yorkshire Moors Railway, and the engines were all at work. Even though it was only six in the morning, the sun continued to blaze high in the sky, and the railway was already on the move.
Charles was one such engine. He moved out of the depot at Grosmont and into the tunnel, sounding his horn cheerfully as a Black 5 puffed past with empty stock for Pickering on the other line. "Good morning! Lovely day for it, isn't it?"
"Going for a run?" the Black 5 replied. "Certainly! You'd have to be mad to stay indoors. It's a good thing all that rain happened, as it means us steam engines can run without diesel support!"
Charles came to a stop in the platform and saw a red signal above them. "It's at danger," he said. "And we're booked to arrive at Whitby at 7 in order to take the first train out. What could be delaying us?"
"Main line traffic?" Zipp suggested. "The line to Whitby is still part of the national network, even if the traffic is a bit sparse so to speak."
A tank engine puffed past with some more coaches. "Come on! We've got plenty of work to do, you know! All this hot air you're producing is hardly helping the weather!"
Charles blinked. "If you were an important engine, you would understand the importance of sometimes stopping. But you are not an important engine and therefore do not understand. Do you see the signal up there?"
"No. I'm facing the other way and my face is looking at a carriage."
"It is red," Charles explained. "It means I cannot go."
A few minutes passed, and still they didn't have clearance to depart. "Whatever is that signalman playing at?" Charles grumbled. "We're going to be late!"
Just then, a three cylinder beat could be heard in the distance. "Whatever is that?" another engine asked.
Zipp listened closely. "I recognise that exhaust beat," she said. "Bulleid Light Pacific. But I wasn't aware of the North Yorkshire Moors having any."
Suddenly, a large pacific appeared from the left. At the speed it was going they could only tell it was painted green before it rocketed away into the distance.
"Whatever was that?" Charles asked.
"Whatever it was, it was a Bulleid Light Pacific of some description," Zipp replied. "I guess we'll find out more when we get to Whitby."
A few minutes later the signal changed, and they were cleared to proceed to Whitby. Once they arrived in the platform and were attached to the train they saw who the special engine was.
He was an enormous locomotive with thick set frames, a slab sided boiler with tapering and a belpaire firebox, a streamlined cab, two smoke deflectors, and a wide chimney. His cabsides bore the numbers 34053, and he had a blue nameplate with the text Sir Keith Park. Above the nameplate was the crest of the Royal Air Force.
"Good morning, old bean!" he said, in an upper class voice which reminded everybody around him that he was very British. "Lovely weather, isn't it! Excellent for a good potter through the countryside, what what?"
Charles scowled. "Did anybody understand a word he said?" he said.
"I have a friend who talks like that," Zipp answered. "And oddly enough he's American. Also remember mom and dad have pretty posh accents too." She looked to Keith. "Good morning, Keith."
"Ah!" Keith said. "The heir to the Duchy of Dorset is here! Tell me, what fine ablutions bring you out parambulating through the lands of York?"
"Excuse me?"
"What are you doing in Yorkshire?"
"We have a holiday home here and are helping out during the summer season. Bussman's holiday."
"You don't drive a bus!" Charles said.
"I know."
Keith noted this. "Ah well. Good to see a helpful face, what what? Still, be careful with the hill up there beyond Grosmont. It's quite slippery with all this rain we're having. I'll probably need a banking engine!"
"I'm not surprised," Charles said. "You look like a slice of cheese with wheels on." And before anybody could say anything else the guard blew his whistle and waved his red flag.
Keith sighed as Charles pulled out. "I was only trying to be helpful. He doesn't seem like a pleasant chap at all." He smiled. "Oh well. I'm told most people around here are friendly."
Charles rattled down the line with his train. "What does that engine think he knows?" he said, to nobody in particular. "I can get up any gradient just fine. All it takes is speed and power!"
"Is that your solution to every problem?" Zipp aske, driving from the other cab.
"Yes. More problems have been solved by speed and power than have been solved by slowness and underpoweredness."
Zipp rubbed her neck. Charles could be fun to work with, but sometimes he could be a right pain in the neck.
After a bit of time they arrived at Grosmont, and passengers got on and off. After the train from Pickering arrived, the signals changed and the guard sounded his whistle once again.
"Here we go!" Charles said, as his wheels dug into the rails. The train moved off and into the tunnel, the sound of a Crompton engine reverberating through the tunnel and surrounding area.
At last the hit the one in fourty nine climb up to Goathland. Unfortunately, Charles was so focused on reaching the top he'd forgotten about the wet rails, and his wheels began to slip. "More power!" he shouted.
Zipp increased the throttle, but it seemed to be having little effect. Charles' wheels simply span more and more as the train slowed down.
The wheelslip indicators lit up, alongside a warning to reduce power. Charles' engine continued to roar as the train ground to a halt.
"Got an engine temperature warning!" Zipp shouted. "I'll have to shut off power!" So she did, and applied the brakes to hold them in place.
"Why did you take off the power?" Charles asked.
"You'd have overheated otherwise," Zipp replied. She picked up the radio. "Grosmont Box, this is 33021, over?"
"Grosmont Box to 33021, state your message, over?"
33021 to Grosmont Box, we have stalled on bank. Repeat, we have stalled on bank. Request permission to reverse and restart from Grosmont station, over."
"Grosmont Box to 33021, request denied, both platforms are occupied. We are dispatching a banking engine to assist you, out."
Zipp sat back. "I guess we wait here then."
Just then, a familiar whistle sounded behind them. "Oh no, it's the posh twit!" said Charles.
"Do you want to be stuck on this hill or not?" Zipp asked, before hopping out of the cab.
Donning a safety vest, she walked back down the train and stopped at the bottom, where Keith was waiting. "Good morning again!" the big engine said. "I must admit I wasn't expecting to see you two so soon, but we can't help stalling, can we?"
"You're gonna help?" Zipp asked. "Even after Charles was rude to you?"
"Of course!" Keith replied. "The alternative is being stuck on this hill, and besides we shouldn't hold petty grudges towards one another. Will Charles be supplying any power?"
"Can't risk it," Zipp replied. "His engine's too hot."
"Well, you can ride with me and my driver," Keith replied. "We'll have this lot moving with two turns of a greased watermelon."
"Uh, say what now?"
"We'll have it moving in no time!"
Zipp coupled Keith to the train, and then hopped into the cab with the Light Pacific's driver. With a series of powerful puffs, the engine got the entire train moving up the slope, producing plenty of smoke and steam as he did so. The passengers onboard the train cheered as they made their way up the gradient, the train moving with reasonable speed despite all the weight.
After a long and difficult climb, they reached the top. Keith dropped back down the line to reconnect to his train, and Charles waited for the next train to arrive so that he could continue on his way.
That night, at the shed, Charles was glum. "What's the matter, old chap?" Keith asked, as he rolled in. "Cat got your tongue?"
"Sorry I was rude to you," Charles said. "You got me out of a complete mess there. Turns out speed and power doesn't solve everything."
"Apology accepted," Keith replied, as he looked out towards the hill. "You know, they're forecasting more sunny weather tomorrow. This means the rails will be a lot dryer than they were today. You should have some better luck on the hill tomorrow."
"Even so," Charles replied, "it's nice to know that there are engines who have my back, so to speak."
Both engines laughed as the sun set in the evening sky.
The North Yorkshire Moors Railway continued to be incredibly busy. Platforms were jammed with people wanting to board trains to travel to seaside towns and picturesque hillside villages. The timetable was similarly hectic as well, with trains blazing up and down the line to convey people to their desired locations. And once they were done with their fun, the trains had to convey the passengers back to where they had started.
The frequency of departures had become so intense that locomotives rarely had time to run round their train. Instead, another engine would attach to the back of the train and take it to the other end of the line, which gave the crew time to service the first engine in preparation for the next train.
One afternoon, Bellerophon had been assigned to help sort out coaches at Whitby. The sun gleamed in the sky as the coaches were assembled into their places, ready for the long journey to places far away. It was also hot work.
Misty leaned out of the cab. "Do you have any more water?" she asked. "I'm pretty thirsty!"
"So am I!" Bellerophon joked. "You could drink some out of my tank!"
"If I did that I'd probably suffer severe burns," Misty replied. "Besides, drinking hot water on its own is not good for your health."
The action was briefly interrupted by the sound of Sophie hauling another train of passengers into the station, who were quick to hop off the train and make their way down to the beach or up to the Abbey.
"Hello!" Sophie said. "You do look busy."
"You can say that again," Misty replied.
"You do lo-"
"No overused jokes here!" Bellerophon said.
"OK," Sophie said.
"So, more holidaymakers, eh?" Misty said. "Where are they all coming from?"
"Well," Pipp said, "we're technically holidaymakers too. But with things being what they are right now a lot of people are going on holiday in the UK rather than travelling abroad. It's good for the local towns but not so good for traffic control." She sighed before having a drink. "It's very hot, though, so make sure you stay hydrated."
"We could do with some rain," Bellerophon said, as he looked out to sea. "At this rate the rails may melt."
"Don't tempt fate!" Sophie said, as another engine hauled the coaches away so she should move out of the platform.
Just then, a piece of paper was handed to Misty, who studied it closely. "Bad weather approaching?" she said. She secured Bellerophon in place and ran down the platform. "Excuse me? Am I reading this correctly?"
"I'm afraid so," said the station master. "The Met Office says that bad weather is approaching. They estimate it will be with us within two hours, so you'd best make preparations to move."
Misty nodded, and then headed back to her engine.
The storm hit sooner than expected. The rain thundered down from bottomless buckets and thunder began to boom all around. Misty was attaching Bellerophon to the coaches in the platform in preparation for an empty stock move back to Grosmont when she was caught in the rain. She ran for cover inside the cab, and looked out. "This is the worst possible weather to be driving an engine with an open sided cab!" she said.
"My not use the rain covers?" Bellerophon suggested.
"Of course!" Misty replied, and opened two pouches. These pouches contained waterproof covers designed to cover both sides of the cab, and were supposed to prevent rain from getting in.
The rain continued to pour as passengers dashed onto the platform and tried the carriage doors, only to discover they were locked. "We can't stay out here in all this rain!" one woman said. "We'll get very wet!"
Luckily, a guard was nearby, and he began unlocking the doors to let the passengers onboard. He then called up the train. "We're going to have to turn this empty stock formation into a passenger working," he explained. "We can't leave these people out in the rain and thunder."
Misty acknowledged on the radio. "We will get them back."
"That's a promise!" Bellerophon added.
"How can you hear what we're saying over the radio?" Misty asked, surprised.
"I have very good hearing."
After the train had departed, going proved to be very difficult indeed. The storm had led to a lot of rain, most of which was bouncing off the soil and waterlogging the ground. The thunder continued to boom and roar, and Misty was having difficulty seeing where she was going as the cab windows were absolutely covered in water. They had also fogged up for some reason.
"I'll need to lift the cover to see what I'm doing!" she said, donning a thick raincoat as she did so. She leaned out- and rain blasted into her face as they rolled along. "It's made no difference!"
As they continued to steam along, they soon ran into a serious problem. Just beyond one of the stations the track had flooded badly. "Look out!" shouted the guard. "That's badly flooded!"
Misty looked back, and then forward. "A promise is a promise," she said.
"And we must keep it," Bellerophon added.
Misty made some precautions. She started by closing Bellerophon's firebox, and then adjusted her own coat. "This footplate is probably gonna flood, but that's the risk we take." She opened the regulator as far as it would go. "CHARGE!"
The formation slammed into the water, briefly slowing down from the friction, but soon regaining speed as they rattled along. The coaches were nearly on the waterline, but the water didn't flood into them too badly, and most of the passengers remained high and dry.
On the other end, they climbed to relative safety despite the storm raging around them. At last, they approached the next stop, and with a roar of triumph they rolled into Grosmont, cold but very much safe.
As the passengers got off, Pipp and Zipp were there too. "Well done!" Pipp said. "That took serious guts, battling through a storm like that!"
"We could hear you all the way over here," Zipp added.
"Well," Bellerophon said, "we couldn't leave these passengers looking like drowned rats, could we?"
Bellerophon was released from the train, and the coaches were coupled into a service waiting to head to Pickering. As the old engine was moved back to the shed, he heard (and saw) Charles and Sophie fire up to take the heavy load onwards.
"Well," he said. "It does show something, doesn't it?"
"Namely?" Misty asked.
"It shows the importance of being in the right place at the right time."
One morning in Paignton, things were slightly slower to start then normal. Sunny and Izzy had decided to use the slower time productively, and as such visited the local art gallery. The gallery had many paintings, all from the local area. Some were portraits of people in old clothes from long ago. Others were paintings of the local scenery and landscapes, painted in landscape orientation (hence the name, 'landscape orientation' for painting and photography). The gallery, although not huge, had many interesting specimens.
Eventually, the pair entered the special exhibitions room, which had rotating artwork from season to season. Izzy was confused though. "If it's called rotating artwork," she asked, "then why is none of it spinning?"
Sunny laughed. "Rotating as in different pieces are shown at different times of years, not rotating as in spinning around."
"Oh," Izzy replied. "I understand now."
What was in there was fascinating. The artworks were from local street artists, according to the notice, and this fascinated Izzy. There were pieces from all across the local region, all achieved using spray cans and clever shading.
Izzy went in to touch one of them.
"No touching the artwork!" said a museum staff member. "These items are very fragile and must be preserved."
Izzy looked down for a second, but then her eyes lit up when she saw another piece. "Is that a genuine Flanksy?" she asked.
"Yes, it is," said another staff member. "It was painted here a few years back. It certainly was quite a pull when we started exhibiting it here. Not only that, it proves that art isn't just something that stuffy old men do in large studios with a painting on an easel. No, art can be anywhere, be anything, and be experienced by anybody."
"That's certainly a positive outlook," Sunny said happily. "Here that, Izzy?"
Izzy's eyes had lit up. It seemed as though she was planning something. "Art can be anywhere?" she asked, her eyes glowing. She opened the windows nearby. "ART CAN BE ANYWHERE AND ANYTHING!"
"Could you please close the windows?" asked the first staff member. "The outside air will interfere with the climate control system."
Later that day, the General Manager of the Kingswear Steam Railway came to see Izzy and Porter. "I have some exciting news for you," he said. "A painter is coming to the region today, and he plans to paint a picture of the local landmarks, to be called 'The Spirit of Devon'. I would like you two to convey him up and down the line to try and find something."
Porter thought. "What's the Spirit of Devon? And I don't mean the drink."
"It's everything that's special about our county," the General Manager replied.
"Neither of us are from here, so that doesn't really help us."
"I'm certain we can find something, Porter!" Izzy said optimistically. "After all, we aren't exactly short of lovely things to see."
Porter collected a van and a brake van and took it with him to Paignton station. The artist was waiting there with his equipment and assistants, who loaded his equipment onto the van. The artist then rode in the brake van. "I was half expecting a coach, but I guess this will do," he said. "I wish to see the Spirit of Devon, so I can paint it," he said. "Please convey me to the best beauty spot so I may paint it."
"Right away!" Porter said, the line being clear. Soon enough, the very odd train set off up the line.
Their first stop was Goodrington to led the morning train pass. The view from the station gave an unparalleled vista. "Look!" Izzy said to the painter. "Blue skies, no clouds, sweeping cliffs in the distance, and the beach with blue seas! This, in my opinion, would make for an amazing painting!"
The artist took a long look at the scene. His face fell. "There are far too many beach huts," he said. "These are vulgar, and spoil the view. This is not the Spirit of Devon."
"You could always not paint the beach huts," Porter suggested.
"They spoil the sight lines. Please show me something else."
Izzy nodded. It seemed she and the artist had different ideas about what constituted the Spirit of Devon. Once the signal had cleared they were on their way again.
After a fierce climb out of Goodrington, the train arrived at Churston, stopping in the bay platform that had once served the Brixham Branch. Izzy was certain the artist would like this. "You could paint an authentic railway scene here!" she said. "All these vibrant colours, old buildings, and even steam locomotives! The GWR is a key piece of Devonian history, after all, as it allowed many people to experience this area for the first time."
The artist was still not convinced. "The buildings are too brown, and there's too much smoke," he said. "Again, I would like to be shown something else."
This upset Izzy. She thought the things she had shown so far captured the spirit of the region extremely well, and wanted to tell the artist that he was wrong. But she feared the repurcussions, and had always been taught that if you can't find something nice or constructive to say, then to say nothing at all. "OK. Porter, let's show him the viaduct!"
Porter backed up onto the line, and then continued on his way down the line.
Unfortunately, they continued to have little luck with the artist. He rejected the viaduct that leads down into Kingswear Bay as being 'too tall', and the nearby collection of grain silos as 'too round'. Eventually, they pulled into Kingswear Station. There were two trains getting ready to depart back towards Paignton. Engines gleamed in the sunlight as steam rose majestically from their funnels, and passengers walked back and forth to get to their trains or to the beach. Or to a steamboat to convey them back home to Paignton.
The General Manager was waiting there when they arrived in the siding. "So, how'd it go?" he asked.
"Not well," Izzy said. "The artist doesn't seem to find the railway very impressive."
"I don't," the artist said, as he stepped onto the platform. "This whole journey is like a kareoke night- completely pointless."
"You take that back!" Izzy snapped, who had finally lost her patience with the artist. "Kareoke is a fun activity for all ages and skill levels!"
"You only make things out of junk," the artist sneered. "A toddler could do that."
Porter seemed similarly incensed. "You're so demanding, you know that?" he said. "How can it be so difficult to find something to paint?"
"You're an engine," the artist said. "You would never understand the troubles of being an artist." And he walked away.
Porter sighed, and waited until the artist was out of earshot. "It would not surprise me at all if it turned out he was called Mr. Demandepants," he said.
That night, Izzy lay awake in her bed. The words the artist had said echoed through her mind.
"You only make things out of junk. A toddler could do that. You would never understand the troubles of being an artist."
Then she remembered what the museum staff had said. "Art can be anywhere, be anything, and be experienced by anybody."
Izzy then had an idea. "If our artist friend won't create the Spirit of Devon, then I'll just have to do it myself!"
A bit of time passed, and she had gathered some old workman's clothes, a hairband, and a gas mask. In her bag were stashed several spray cans, and some other useful items that she would need to create her piece.
She headed outside and stopped in front of a flat wall. As she got to work, she started to sing. Or rap, technically.
"What up? Look out, it's Sneaksy/ Style is on fleek, see? Take something dull and go all masterpiece-y! Gonna take something average and make it shine/ Gonna add that beauty to the Devon Line!
"Make these dreams a reality! Gonna turn this place into a gallery! Just let it all out for all to see/ 'Cause we know art's for everybody!"
She then switched to singing, which was quite an impressive achievement with her gas mask on.
"It goes round and round, yeah! We know that art makes the world go/ Round and round! (makes the world go round and round) 'Cause art is for everybody!"
"You dye it/ You paint it/ You draw it/ You shade it!
"You dye it/ You paint it/ You draw it/ You shade it/ Art is for everybody!"
She then switched back to rapping.
"Gonna make it wild/ Gonna flip that style! Outside the lines/ Gonna make 'em smile!
"'Cause I'm out here/ And I got that vision/ Makin' it pop is my main mission! But shh! No one knows it's me/ Got a secret identity! Sneaksy's the name, and I got next/ In the street art scene, yeah I'm the best!"
"Make these dreams a reality/ Gonna turn this place into a gallery/ Just let it all out for all to see! 'Cause we know art's for everybody!"
She then switched back to singing.
"It goes round and round, yeah! We know that art makes the world go/ Round and round/ (makes the world go round and round) 'Cause art is for everybody!"
"It goes round and round, yeah! We know that art makes the world go/ Round and round/ (makes the world go round and round) 'Cause art is for everybody!"
"You dye it/ You paint it/ You draw it/ You shade it/ We know that art makes the world go round and round!
"You dye it/ You paint it/ You draw it/ You shade it! (round and round) Art is for everybody"
"You dye it/ You paint it/ You draw it/ You shade it/ We know that art makes the world go round and round!
"You dye it/ You paint it/ You draw it/ You shade it/ (round and round) Art is for everybody!"
After all that, work, the image was finished, and Izzy returned home before anybody could spot her.
The next morning, Sunny and Izzy were walking to the shed when they saw a commotion. "What's going on?" Sunny asked, as they walked closer. They then saw what had caused all the excitement.
On the wall was a spectacular piece of street art, depicting a steam engine at speed over Goodrington Sands. The General Manager was there, and he was stunned. "Who is this Sneaksy?" he asked. "They're very good."
"It's remarkable how they pulled this off with just spray cans," said one of the museum workers. "It's a bit large to fit in the museum, isn't it?"
The artist was there, and he sneered. "That's not art," he said. "That's vandalism. A child could blast some spray cans at a wall. Doesn't make it art."
Izzy shrugged. "What is art, anyway?" she asked. "Besides, it's not as if you produced anything."
The artist fumed and walked away.
The General Manager smiled. "This, ladies and gentlemen," he said. "This is the Spirit of Devon. If Sneaksy is hearing this, I'd like to formally thank you for this contribution."
Izzy outwardly didn't react to the situation, but her heart beamed with pride.
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.
One morning, Pipp was hard at work on checking Sophie over. She had washed the engine's paintwork with a hose several times, and the sun gleamed off the bodywork as she checked it again.
"Lookin' good!" she said, as she took a quick snap of the paintwork. "You're the shiniest engine in all of Yorkshire!"
"Can you quantify that statement?" said another engine.
Pipp rolled her eyes. "Don't kill the vibes."
Sophie laughed. "We all do need to look good, after all. The tourists expect everything to be shiny and clean, without a spec of dust to be found anywhere on us or anything else."
"That's easy for you to say," said Keith, on the other side of the shed. "It's a never ending battle against all the dirt and muck over here. And the fact I've failed with a faulty whistle hardly helps. I'll have to sit here until it gets fixed."
"You poor thing," Sophie said gently. "I'll see if there's any way we can help you pass the time."
Just then, the shed manager came through to hand Zipp a piece of paper. "Hmm," she said. "Collecting the mayor? Looks like a special train is in order for us." She headed over to Charles to start him up whilst Pipp got her own work order.
Pipp looked even more excited. "O. M. GOODNESS!" she said, and flipped on her phone. "Check it out, guys! Me and Sophie-"
"Sophie and I," an engine corrected.
Pipp rolled her eyes. "Sophie and I are off to collect somebody super important from Whitby today! The Queen of Yorkshire!"
"Yorkshire isn't an independent country," said Keith. "I know Yorkshiremen think they're better than everybody else, but they have gotten too big for their boilers if they think they have their own monarch."
"I'll be updating you with more when I get there. Gotta go. Pipp Pipp Hooray!"
"Pipp Pipp Hooray!" her fans chorused. And with that, Pipp deposited her phone in the cab's lockbox, locked the lockbox, and then got Sophie ready to run.
A few minutes later, Charles was being attached to the empty stock he would be taking to Pickering to collect the mayor. "Typical," he grumbled. "An important engine like me, only getting the mayor. Why does Sophie get to take the Queen?"
"I suspect that she actually isn't a monarch at all," Zipp replied, as she made some extra checks and attached the brake tender to the front of the formation. "Britain has a King, as you'll recall, and that means it's probably an honorary title. Unless somehow a monarch from another dimension has arrived in Britain and needs transport."
Charles snorted. "Monarchs from other dimensions? That sort of thing only happens in cartoons. Next you'll be telling me that there's a pony counterpart of you who's the princess of a city!"
Just then, Sophie emerged from the darkness, going a bit fast. "Slow down!" Charles shouted.
But it was too late. Sophie crashed into the brake tender, which was knocked backwards a bit.
Charles was apocalyptically cross. "SOPHIE!" he boomed. "YOU DINGBAT!"
"What's happened?" Sophie asked.
"You've smashed up the front of my brake tender!" Charles complained. "Now we'll have to get it fixed."
Pipp looked out. "Oops."
Luckily, the signal then changed which permitted her to move forward, and then reverse out through the other platform towards Whitby.
Charles rolled his eyes. "Amateurs."
Later on, Pipp and Sophie arrived in Whitby. To the left hand side of the station sits a siding, and this is usually filled with coaches. But today it wasn't. Two flatbeds sat there, with a barge that had been seemingly chopped in half.
Pipp blinked. "I'm confused. I was told we were to collect the Queen of Yorkshire."
Just then, the yard manager arrived. "There she is," she said. "That's the old barge over there. It's being shipped for scrap. You two can move it as far as Whitby, where a mainline diesel is waiting to take it to the scrapyard."
Sophie looked bothered. "Look at all that sludge!" she said. "This will get all over my paintwork!"
Pipp looked similarly bothered. "When I was told I was collecting the Queen of Yorkshire, this isn't what I had in mind."
Charles rolled along through the countryside, his wheels rattling and the coaches behind him behaving well. "Well, this isn't too bad," he said, as the birds sang in the sky.
Zipp had the cab windows down to ensure she didn't get too hot. "We've certainly got a good climate out here."
But as they passed through Levisham, they suddenly heard a mysterious squeak. "Oh, not again," Charles said.
Zipp sighed. "Probably a wonky bearing... again. I'll slow down until we get to Pickering, which conveniently is our final stop."
It was not so easy for Pipp and Sophie. The barge was long and heavy, and furthermore seemed to be an oversized load. The heavy vehicle seemed to also sway despite being chained down on the flatbeds. It also smelled awful.
Sophie was focusing on the line ahead to avoid thinking about what would happen if the boat leaked some of its gunk onto her. Pipp, on the other hand, had thought ahead, having pulled on a HAZMAT suit to protect her from any muck.
The train continued to roll along at very slow speed, having to constantly stop as things got knocked over. Telegraph poles were toppled. Bits of station platform got battered. And worst of all some trees got scraped.
Whomever had loaded the boat onto the train hadn't thought to remove the chimney either, which was partly the cause of all the problems they were having.
Pipp checked behind. "I'm not good with numbers and figures, but this load looks to be top heavy," she said.
Sophie sighed. "Tell me about it. It's always lurching about and-"
Then there was trouble. Just before the junction there is a large sewage pipe that runs over the line. And because nobody had thought to check the height of the load, the chimney smashed through it! Sewage and water went everywhere in the fields, around the lineside, and then began to flow towards the nearby water.
Pipp stopped the train. "That doesn't look good!" she said, hopping out of the cab to take a look.
"At least there's none on my paint!" Sophie said.
"Never mind that! If that sewage gets into the water supply it could make people very ill!" Pipp grabbed the cab radio. "We've had a sewage spillage near Grosmont. I'll need some backup to clean it, over?"
"How bad is the spill?"
Pipp thought for a second. "About a quarter of a Chernobyl."
"Looks like we'll need the HAZMAT gear."
Charles arrived at Pickering, looking positively splendid with his rake of coaches. The train was ready for the mayor and his family to board.
Zipp leaned out of the cab. "I'll need to get down to check the bearings. Don't move anything until we're done, and don't tell them you saw me there working on it."
The porter nodded. "There's no way I could. I don't even know your name!"
Elsewhere, Lady Haven was showing the passengers to the compartment. "As you shall see," she said, "we spared no expense. I know that local important people enjoy travelling in comfort, so you shall too."
"That's very kind, Your Ladyship," said the mayor of Pickering. "I see they've rolled out the red carpet."
Sure enough, a member of platform staff opened the door.
Zipp, who was down below, suddenly heard a loud scream. "What the?"
Whomever was screaming must have had an enormous pair of lungs, as they kept going for so long that windows began to shatter all across the station. When they had finally run out of air, Zipp popped up from the platform to see what was going on.
The compartment had a mouse in it! "Oh, that's what was causing the squeak," she said.
The mayor looked over. "And you would be?"
"Zipp. Just call me Zipp."
"Her mother's the Duchess of Dorset!" said the station master.
The porter from earlier looked in amazement. "If your mother's the Duchess, that makes you a lady!" he said.
Zipp rolled her eyes. "Will you look at that. The porter just became a detective."
"What's going on back there?" Charles called.
"We're just getting rid of a mouse!" Zipp replied.
Things had gone considerably better down at Grosmont. The biological hazard had been cleared, and the barge was then left on the sidings for collection.
At the end of the day, the Haven family gathered at Grosmont station to help lock up before heading on their way home. "Well, seeing as nothing went quite to plan we made a good day of it," Zipp said.
"And neither me nor Sophie got dirty on the way!" Pipp replied.
"Which is quite remarkable, considering all the waste that got released," Lord Haven noted. "Who thought putting that up was a good idea?"
"I think they thought people would use common sense and not try to move big objects," Zipp replied.
"Oh well," Lady Haven said. "What's done is done. I've booked us a nice meal down at Whitby, so that gives us plenty of time to get home, shower, and get changed. Misty will join us once she and Bellerophon have finished putting the stock away."
Just then, a whistle sounded through the station, and the evening fish and chip train puffed through on its way to Pickering. Steam shot from the chimney as it rolled past.
And straight down on the assembled Havens.
Pipp was the first to react. "Seriously?"
"Well, that's the shower done!" Lord Haven joked. And they all had a good laugh about it.
A few days had passed since Hitch and Rebecca had saved the Jacobite and a group of passengers from having to be cancelled, and in the case of the passengers from having to wait a very long time for another train. For this, both of them were praised for their work, and have since become something of a local hero in that section of the Highlands.
One day, Hitch was tending to Rebecca. The existance of such an unusual engine uncharacteristic of the Scottish Highlands was certain to draw crowds, and people watched through the ages as the light pacific was prepared for duty. The plan was to take the morning Jacobite out to Fort William, then hand over to another engine and crew and work back light engine to Fort William. Hitch took this duty very seriously.
"We've got a lot of work to do well today," he said as he checked the pressure gauge. The boiler pressure, though rising, was a bit sluggish. "This is not good. We need to be away in about an hour and a half if we're going to get to Mallaig on time."
"We have been known to be a bit tempramental," Rebecca said.
"You're telling me." Hitch tapped the gauge to see if that had any effect. It didn't. "We'll be here for a while, then."
Just then, Mr Riley arrived in his car. "Morning, Hitch!" he called.
"Morning, Mr Riley!" Hitch replied. "I'm getting Rebecca ready to go. We should be good to make the booked departure."
"I'm afraid not," Mr Riley said. "There's been a change of plans. You two are needed elsewhere."
"What's happened?" Hitch asked.
"A service train from Oban has stalled at Crianlarich, and ScotRail has no extra capacity to get a replacement unit there- something about broken springs or something like that. They've asked us to help, so if you wouldn't mind assisting that would be fantastic."
"We'll do our best," Hitch said.
"Isn't the line steep?" Rebecca asked. "You know about my wheelslip and all that."
"We should be fine," Hitch answered. "What are we taking with us?"
Five MK1s, the spares. Marquess will handle your duties until you get back. Best of luck!"
Hitch nodded. "What else can go wrong today?"
As the Mk1s were loaded with supplies the passengers of the stricken train might need, a person went to speak to Hitch. "You'll want to be careful about Rannoch Moor," he said, as the wind threatened to blow his hat off. "The wind is very fierce up there. It can knock a train off the rails!"
"Us? Fall over? You're pulling my wheel!" Rebecca said.
Hitch was less certain, however. "There aren't any trees up there, and the coaches are lighter than normal. We may need to exercise caution."
"Scared the monster will get you?" Rebecca teased.
"That's Loch Ness, not Rannoch Moor," Hitch replied, and went back to checking the signals.
As they sat there, a mogul finished backing the coaches for the morning Jacobite into the platform. "Good luck on Rannoch Moor!" he said. "I knew an engine get his dome blown off there once!"
"Good thing Rebecca's a domeless engine!" Hitch replied, as the signal switched to green. With a blast of the whistle, they were on their way.
The climb to Rannoch Moor is long and difficult, characterised by fierce gradients combined with narrow cuttings. This means that careful management of the firebox is essential to avoid blowback in the tunnels. This would be a rather premature end to a driver's day, so Hitch was keen to avoid this.
Rebecca more than had the boiler pressure to maintain speed, but as she rolled along there was a detonation. "What was that?" she asked.
Hitch looked ahead. "Oh, great," he said. "Maintenance works. Reduced speed limit of 15 miles per hour for the next mile. Here's hoping we don't stall." He put the sanding gear on anyway to increase their chances of making it.
At last, they completed the climb, after a long and tortorous ascent, and arrived at Rannoch Station to pick up extra supplies. The moors were lonely and mysterious. There were few trees as Hitch had predicted, and the wind was howling. Not only that, the weather was awful, with fog closing in.
Then came more bad news. "A tree's fallen on the line further down!" said the station master. "You'll have to hold here until we can get it cleared out of the way!"
Hitch facepalmed. "What else can go wrong today?"
Still no news came. The hours ticked by, and Rebecca waited at the station. The fog had enveloped the Moor, and visibility was so poor that you could barely see an inch in front of you. Hitch was growing worried. "The passengers on the stuck train need their supplies," he told the station master. "Is there still no news?"
"The tree is apparently not cooperating," the station master replied. "With their equipment it should have only taken a few minutes."
Just then, they heard voices over Rebecca's cab radio. Hitch grabbed it and began to listen. "Hello?"
Mayday! Mayday! We are a rafting party! We are stranded on the stream near the steel bridge at Rannoch. Require urgent assistance, over!"
Hitch acknowledged. "Message received and understood. On our way. Out." He hopped out of the cab, adjusting his clothing to try and keep warm. "Somebody's stuck in the stream just down there," he explained. "I'm going to go and take a look. Can you keep an eye on Rebecca for me?"
"Sure thing," the station master replied.
Hitch was soon down below the bridge, and saw the stranded raft. It was stuck on some rocks, and the riders were struggling to shift it.
"I can help!" Hitch said. "I'm with a railtour, and we can keep you warm on the train!" He radioed to the other train staff. "Come down to the stream with me! I could do with a hand!"
Before long, they had formed a human chain, pulling the passengers of the raft out and up onto the bank. They were escourted up to the train, where they found warm coaches and plenty of tea and coffee.
And then more good news. "The line is clear!" called the station master. "You can set off for Crianlarich now!"
So they did. The run down to Crianlarich was much easier as the gradient was on their side, and the train arrived only a few hours late. The passengers of the failed train weren't too annoyed, and happily boarded as Rebecca was run round the formation to return to Fort William.
Although it was very dark when they got back, the platform was packed with people. "Three cheers for Hitch and Rebecca!" called Mr Riley. "They have saved the day once more!"
And nobody was more proud than the pair who, although the day had not gone perfectly, had managed to save it and produce something positive.
One morning, Misty was checking the news to see if anything concerning had happened. As much as it was nice to be on holiday, she was worried. If they weren't ready and prepared, Opaline could strike again and take advantage of their lack of preparation. And that would never do. Although Misty knew the others had accepted her as basically family, she still felt she had a lot of ground to make up for her actions towards them in previous months.
As she was checking the news, there was a knock at the door. "Come in!"
Moments later, Lady Haven entered. "Morning, Misty," she said. "I was wondering if I could ask a favour of you."
"Sure!" Misty replied. It was then she became aware of the white pomeranian that seemed to follow the Havens wherever they went.
"As you probably know, we have a somewhat busy schedule. Seeing as today is your day off, I was wondering if you could care for Cloudpuff for the day?"
Misy didn't know a huge amount about caring for dogs. But at the same time she didn't want to let her hosts down. "Sure! I won't let you down!"
"That's the spirit!" Lady Haven smiled, and let the dog step into the room. "I'll email the list of the things that you'll need to do in order to keep him happy in a moment. It's not too demanding, but you need to make sure to do each task in order. He gets grumpy otherwise."
Misty nodded as her inbox beeped, and a message with a Word document arrived. She and her friends had faced bigger challenges. Surely this would be a cakewalk, right? Hopefully she could get these done and then give the new Ruby Jubilee album a listen.
"This is a lot more difficult than I imagined!" Misty said, as she looked around the house for useful items. She looked in the fridge and had a eureka moment. "There we are!" She took a bottle out and tipped it into the bowl. "I couldn't find you any water from a local spring, but there was bottled spring water, which is basically the same thing."
Cloudpuff didn't look hugely impressed. Keeping him still had proven to be very difficult. And based on the amount of racing about he did Misty hadn't even attempted walkies yet. In fact, she suspected walkies would quickly turn into pullies.
Misty checked the next section of the list and her heart sank. "I'm not convinced taking you for a walk around the town is a good idea, but I'm more than happy to walk you round the garden! I don't think our hosts will mind!"
Cloudpuff still looked grumpy, but hopped off the chair ready for the leash to be attached to his collar.
Misty smiled. "There! I knew that'd cheer you up buddy!" She clipped the leash on, and walked out of the house with the dog. The garden was very big, and was suitable for such a walk, but whilst on the second loop the phone rang. Misty answered it. "Hello?"
"Hey there, Misty!" said the voice of Sunny. "How are things going in the north?"
"Fine, I guess," Misty replied. "I'm currently taking Cloudpuff for a walk."
"Is he behaving?" Sunny asked. "He can get quite mad if things aren't just so, if you know what I mean."
"Trust me, I know what you mean. Who knew caring for a dog was so hard? It's like I'm being dragged rather than being the carer, and..." she trailed off as she looked around. "Wait a second... where did he go?"
"Where did who go?"
Misty realised, to her horror, she had dropped the leash. And Cloudpuff had run off! "I'm dead."
Misty was trying to figure out what to do, including making a cotton ball look like Cloudpuff. But it was no use. "Lady Haven's gonna be so mad with me! Why can't I do the simplest of tasks without messing them up?"
Suddenly, the roar of a bike engine sounded outside the house, and Misty went to see who it was. To her surprise, it was Zipp, who was just getting off and stopping the vehicle.
"Hey Misty," she said. "How's it going with Cloudpuff?"
Misty continued to panic. "CloudpuffranoffandIcan'tfindhimandIhavenoideawhereheisand-"
"Whoa, whoa, slow down," Zipp replied. "I can't understand you when you speak that fast. Calm down, and start from the beginning."
Misty nodded, and breathed in, then out. "Cloudpuff's run off. I can't find him anywhere."
"He's run off?" Zipp said. "That means we have a chance to find him. Misty, I'll go get my spy gear and help track him down. You keep an eye on the bike."
"Wait, you're not mad?"
"Yelling at people achieves nothing. Besides, it's far more productive to fix mistakes than wallow in them." Zipp popped back into the house. She emerged a few minutes later, clad in the familiar bodysuit and visor, with a small drone hovering next to her. "Your mission, should you choose to accept it..."
"Less quoting movies, more finding a dog!" Misty replied.
Zipp removed the goggles, pulled on a bike helmet, and hopped on the bike, starting the engine as she did so. "Hop aboard," she said. "And don't forget to hold on!"
Misty did as instructed, and the duo roared away onto the local roads.
Zipp was using her drone to follow a local series of traces, which were detecting dog hairs in a nearby town. She brought the bike to a stop and removed her helmet, heading into the local pub. "Cloudpuff traces are in this direction, so we should probably look there first."
Misty followed her in, not entirely understanding how Zipp's technology worked. At least the bartender looked friendly.
"Good... well, I guess it's afternoon, isn't it? How can I help you two today?"
"We're trying to find a missing dog," Misty said.
"What does this dog look like?" the bartender asked.
"White pomeranian," Zipp explained. "Have you seen one recently?"
"Oh, yes," the bartender replied. "He briefly entered the structure, which caused my alsatian to go ballistic. They had quite the barking match. The other dog then ran off, heading towards the road towards York."
Zipp nodded. "Thanks for the help." She popped her goggles on and glanced about. "Night vision- no, too bright. Heat vision- too many sources of heat. X-Ray vision- not very helpful." She took them off. "The drone should be able to help us. Let's go."
The duo roared out of the parking lot and blasted down the York road. Misty couldn't help but admit this was quite exciting. It felt like she was in a spy movie!
The pair closed in on the complex network of roads that surround York, with Zipp's drone suddenly beeping as it got a new lead.
"Fill me in," the driver said.
"CCTV feed. Confirmed sighting of Cloudpuff. Region confirmed to be York."
"Narrow down to street."
"19 Coppergate Street, York."
Zipp punched this into her satnav. "If we're lucky, we'll have found him before anything bad has happened."
On arrival at York, the duo parked and headed into town. Zipp's drone was continuing to feed her information, and this was guiding them to the target.
At last, they arrived at Coppergate Street, and the drone bleeped. "Location narrowed. Cloudpuff is in... Jorvik."
"What?" Zipp asked. "How did he get in there?"
"He walked through the door?" Misty suggested.
"Apart from the obvious," Zipp replied, and pulled her goggles on again. She scanned about, and grinned when she got a hit. "He's in the gift shop!"
The pair entered the building and looked about inside the shop. And then they found him. Cloudpuff was sitting amongst the helmets, with one on his head. He looked very silly. He barked when he saw the pair.
"Hey, buddy!" Zipp said. "How'd you get all the way out here from Grosmont, huh?"
Cloudpuff barked in response as Zipp lifted him off the stand.
"Let's get you home. Mom'll want to know where you were!" She turned to Misty. "I don't think we can fit the three of us on the bike. Let's catch a train from York to Grosmont. They usually have space for bikes."
About an hour later, they were back home, and the pair made sure to set the scene up as if nothing had happened. Misty set Cloudpuff in front of his bowl, whilst Zipp changed out of her spy gear to avoid attracting suspicion.
About half an hour later, Lady Haven and the others returned home. "Well, that was quite a busy day!" she said. "Ray and I found all sorts of interesting things. I trust the day wasn't too exciting for you, Misty!"
"Nothing to report, ma'am!" Misty replied. "Care of Cloudpuff succesfully completed- with a little bit of help from Zipp."
Lady Haven smiled. "I'm pleased to hear it went so well." She bent down to Cloudpuff, switching to the sort of voice usually reserved for animals or small children. "Who would like a nice walk?"
Cloudpuff nodded. He was always up for more, as Misty flopped in a chair, quite exhausted from her cross country adventure.
One morning, Sunny was in the kitchen before the others were up. She had special plans for a special treat for all of them. Butter simmered in the pan and ingredients were at the side as Sunny got all the equipment up to spec.
"Perfect!" she said, as she added the batter to something else. "They won't forget this breakfast in a hurry!"
After a few more minutes, the items were ready, and Sunny placed the plates onto the table. The results were marvellous. Eggs sat neatly in rows in egg cups, ready for their new customers to eat. There was toast, and bacon, and pancakes, and of course butter and maple syrup. What more could you want for breakfast on a lazy weekend morning? It was Sunday, so the railway was running a slightly reduced timetable, which gave time for eating.
Unfortunately, there was one ingredient missing. The people to eat it.
Sunny stuck her head out of the door. "Breakfast's ready!"
And suddenly there they arrived. First Izzy dashed through the door. She took a bite out of some of the toast and was suddenly on her way. "Sorry Sunny! Gotta go! See you later! Looks delicious bye!"
Sunny was confused. What could Izzy be doing on a day like today?
Then Isaac and Aurora drifted through, taking the plates with them and depositing the food into tupperware boxes. Expect the eggs, which they casually cracked and poured over the bread before heading on their way.
Sunny was even more confused. Was there some sort of joke she was missing out on? Was it National Take your Breakfast With You Day?
Sunny sighed as Argyle and Goldie entered. "So much for a slow start to the day. It feels like we're drifting apart."
Argyle looked in amazement at what had been made. "You did all of this for us?" he said. He took a seat. "Come on Goldie. I don't think we need to be there in too much of a hurry. Sometimes it's nice to just slow down."
Goldie took a seat, and noticed how dejected Sunny looked. "I know it's disappointing when friends aren't around," she said. "But the Moonbows do have their own lives apart from ours, and it's important to respect that."
Sunny sighed. "It's a little hard to buy that when they don't so much as say thank you."
"Now that is rude," Argyle commented. He took a look at the eggs. "Right, how do I do this again?"
Later that day, Sunny got a telephone call. "Hello? Who is this?"
"Ah! Sunny!" said the voice, the general manager of the Kingswear Railway. "Sorry to say we've had a bit of a problem. Last night some high winds knocked over the telegraph wires, which in turn has damaged the block signalling system. We can't resume safe rail operation until the system is fixed as otherwise the token machines won't work. Can you and Salty take an engineering train along the line to fix it?"
"Can do!" Sunny said. "I'm on my way!"
Goldie, who had heard the call, stepped in. "Who was that?"
"The General Manager of the railway," Sunny replied. "They're having problems with the telegraph lines, and they want me to work an engineering train to help fix them."
Later on, Salty and Sunny had assembled a train of supplies, and the permanent way department had boarded a brake van to convey them to the damaged wires. Sunny looked up and smiled. "There's hope yet!" she said.
"What is it?" Salty asked.
"There's a rainbow over there!" she said, pointing to the sky.
Salty smiled. "Arr. The ancient symbol of hope and happiness. An old sea story says that you'll find something magical at the end of one."
"Right away!" shouted one of the engineers.
"Gotcha!" Sunny replied, and advanced the throttle.
Salty, as was his custom, launched off into a sea shanty. "I heard, I heard, the old man say!"
Their first stop was Goodrington, where there were many cables to fix thanks to the nearby carriage sidings. As the first group of mechanics got off to fix the system, Sunny noticed something. "Bother! The rainbow's moved!"
Salty laughed. "Maybe we have a runaway rainbow on our hands!"
"A what?"
"Another old sea story tells of a ship that chased a rainbow all across the world, but never found it. It's something about a fool's errand or something like that."
"I see," Sunny replied. Noticing the engineers had gotten off, they headed on their way up to Churston for another dropoff. This time they had to leave some equipment, and Porter was there.
"Nasty storm, this!" he said. "Could you two help me dig some trucks out?"
"Sorry, we can't stop!" Sunny replied. "Got to deliver some supplies!" And before anybody knew what was happening they were on their way.
Izzy looked sad, and then the irony of the situation hit her like a ton of bricks. "First I was too busy to spend time with her, now she's too busy to spend time with me. Why does life have to be so ironic?"
Salty made his way slowly down the bank towards Kingswear. The weight of the train and the steep hill were giving his brake blocks a workout, and as he reached the bottom he sighed in relief. "Easy does it now," he said. "Not far to journey's end."
Unfortunately, he was wrong. Sunny's eyes widened at what was ahead. "STOP!" she shouted, and slammed on the emergency brakes. The train stopped just in time.
"Shiver me cylinders!" said Salty. "There's a tree on the line!"
And there was. The tree was so big it blocked the track, and there was no way around it, this being a single track railway. Sunny quickly went back to ask for help. "Hello?" she asked a member of staff. "Does anybody have a chainsaw? There's a big tree in the way."
Within a few minutes the tree was no longer a threat, and the train proceeded to Kingswear, where to Sunny's surprise Isaac and Aurora were already waiting. "Hello you two!" Isaac called. "Sorry for rushing off at breakfast this morning, but we had to help clear up storm damage down at this end of the line."
"We got here by boat, in case you were wondering," Aurora explained. "But yeah, our bad. We should have explained we were in a hurry, and it doesn't justify just taking stuff without saying thank you."
Sunny smiled as she put Salty into neutral. "It's OK," she said. "Besides, we all have our own lives. I guess I didn't really appreciate that. It's a bit unreasonable to expect everybody to drop everything at the drop of a hat and put their lives on hold. And besides, I can always cook breakfast another day."
Porter then arrived with some trucks. "You won't need to do any cooking now," he said. "Meals on the house, guys! The general manager has ordered this food as a way of saying thank you for working so hard today! Sure makes Sunday great, eh?"
Izzy hopped off the footplate. "And in honour of the person who made sending the messages possible, I propose today is 'Sunny Day' from here on out!"
It was another incredibly hot day on the North Yorkshire Moors, and diesel traction had temporarily been drafted in to work most of the services. Sophie was waiting at Pickering, waiting for clearance to back down onto a rake of coaches.
Just then, Charles rolled in with some more stock. "Would you believe it?" he grumbled. "They held us at Goathland for a ridiculous amount of time! And all because some silly cow strayed onto the line. Why can't those silly animals stay in their paddocks like sensible things? It'd make everybody's life so much easier."
"If life was always predictable, it would be boring!" Sophie replied. "And besides, today is a very special day."
"Is it, by any chance, getting better and better?" Zipp asked.
"You could say that," Pipp noted, looking back down the platform. "In fact, if you felt so inclined, you could say 'hey', as it's probably going to be a great day."
"I don't follow," Charles said. "Was that a reference?"
"Maybe?" Sophie said. "Anyway, Pipp and I have a very special job today. We're taking some children to the seaside!"
Just then, Bellerophon rolled past, in very light steam so as not to set off lineside fires. "Good luck!" he said. "I don't think there's much of a chance of rain, though. You should have an easier time than me and Misty did."
"Misty and I," corrected somebody.
"Pedant."
Later on, the children arrived at the station. I would like to say they were well behaved and a credit to their families, but if I were to do so it would be lying. The children were terribly behaved. They were running about the platform, climbing on things, knocking over the flower arrangements, and generally being utter nuisances.
The station master emerged from his office and looked on in shock. "What the Dickens is going on?" he asked. "Who let the ruffians in?"
Lady Haven stuck her head out of the door, and looked astonished. She walked over to Pipp. "Can you make some noise?" she asked.
Pipp reached down and blasted the horn as long and as hard as she could. That got the children to be quiet.
Lady Haven then went to address them. "Now then, there's no need to behave like hooligans. Now if you could form a nice li-"
"Go home, poshface!" shouted one especially vile child, and on that they began throwing things.
Lady Haven dived back into the office to avoid the worst of the flying projectiles. Mostly things like gobstoppers and sweets whizzed through the air and made a terrible mess.
The station staff finally herded them onboard, where they shut the doors and sighed.
"I pity the poor crew who have to deal with that lot," said a porter.
The signal changed, and at last they could move off. Pipp sighed as they got underway. "I'd much rather be up here than in there," she said. "Those kids are right terrors! If I'd behaved like that at their age I could wave goodbye to leaving the house for a week!"
"That sounds boring," Sophie said.
"Our house is pretty big. It wasn't quite as bad as it sounds."
The train made its way along the line, and sure enough the scenery slowly began to shift from rolling fields to forests and moorland. It was all very pretty and exciting.
But I'm sorry to say the children had other plans on their mind. They were running up and down the corridors, leaving a huge amount of mess in the vestibules, wiping their muddy shoes on the seats, and smearing objects in paint and goo they had brought with them. The interiors of the coaches soon began to resemble an explosion in a paint factory.
Pipp was being informed of the chaos over the radio, and was worried. "I hope they can handle it back there!" she said. "I wouldn't want to be in there position!"
"Me neither," Sophie added, as they stopped at Levisham. "It sounds awful!"
Unfortunately, it was about to get worse. One of the children figured out how to open the windows. He opened one, leaned out, and produced a catapault. He then fired a big rock which bounced off Sophie's frames.
"OW!" she said. "It's not nice to throw things!"
"You can't tell me what to do!" the child shouted. "You try and do anything to us and we'll tell our parents you hit us!"
"How could Sophie hit you when she had no arms?" Pipp pointed out.
The next train arrived, and the engine on it glanced over. "Those look like right rotters," he said. "Be careful, you two, and ensure you don't get into any more trouble."
"We'll try not to," Pipp replied, and at last they could get on their way. But not for long.
As they began the climb onto the Moors, there was a strange coughing sound from Sophie's engine. "What was that?" the diesel asked.
Pipp looked down at the gauges in the cab. "What in the?" She peered closer. "This can't be right. The fuel gauge is right on the red and is dropping!"
But it was again. The coughing from the engine turned to spluttering, and the spluttering soon stopped completely. The cylinders stopped firing, and the train came to a complete stop.
Pipp put the brakes into emergency to hold the train in place, and then got out of the cab to apply the hand brakes. "Apply the hand brake in the brake coach!" she radioed. "Sophie's broken down, and I don't know how much longer the brakes will hold!"
"Understood," replied the guard. Soon the train was secured, and Pipp contacted the signal box to warn them. All signals between Levisham and Goathland were set to danger, and to be safe the staff went out and placed detonators on the track.
The passengers became even more unruly. "Why have we stopped?" shouted one child.
"This just goes to show you shouldn't have girls doing men's work! My dad said so!" said another.
Pipp's normally pink face went red with fury. "Girls can do anything a boy can do!" she snapped back. "And that includes operating locomotives! We just need to troubleshoot the problem, that's all!"
"Yeah, right."
About half an hour later, a foreman arrived in a lorry with some fuel canisters. "I've brought some fuel," he said. "Based on what was described to me Sophie may have a leak in her tank, and if that's the case we'll need to take her out of service."
"That's the only thing I can think of," Pipp replied. "I can't think why the fuel gauge would drop so fast."
The foreman took the can and tipped it to the correct position. Diesel fuel thundered into the tank...
...And came straight back out again, dribbling along the track.
"It was a leaky tank!" Sophie said. "I bet it was that rock!"
Pipp's eye started to twitch. "That ruffian ruined my engine!" she said. "I'll give him a piece of my mind."
Pipp did indeed speak to the child. He later wished she hadn't bothered.
Later on, Charles was sent up to push the train up to Goathland. He was having quite a bit of fun with this. "Get stuck, did we?" he asked. "Well, now you know what it feels like! Stalling and all that!"
"Less gloating, more helping," Sophie said flatly.
Eventually they reached Goathland, where the passengers were let off. The news of their poor behaviour had reached their school, and they had decided to cancel the remainder of the day trip as a punishment. Safe to say none of the children were laughing when their parents found out.
Sophie was taken by another engine to Grosmont sheds, where she was checked over by a mechanic for any issues. Luckily, there were none, apart from the hole in the tank, and by that evening the diesel was ready to re-enter service for the fish and chip trains.
As she moved off the depot, Ray called out from the darkness. "Don't forget to fill up!"
"Very funny!" Sophie replied.
"Ignore him," Pipp said. She took a swig of water. "After that day, I think we both need a drink!"
One morning, Ray was woken at Grosmont shed by the arrival of Lord and Lady Haven. "Good morning, sir and ma'am," he said. "What brings you two down to the shed today?"
"We're going to the seaside," Lady Haven explained. "Just me and Robert, you see. Pipp is awfully busy here, and I left Cloudpuff in Misty's care. I haven't had time to practice my laugh!"
"Why would you need to practice it?" Lord Haven asked, looking very confused. "Laughter is a natural reaction to funny things."
"Still, tell me where you wish to go and I shall convey you there," Ray answered. "There are many interesting things, such as the value of electric carriage lighting over oil lighting on darkened routes. In fact, the advantages are so profound that-"
"Ray's being boring again!" Charles shouted.
Ray paid Charles no heed, and there was little time to spend in the shed as the firelighter had already brought him up to temperature. He set off from the shed with the two members of crew onboard, and they were soon on their way towards the coast.
Along the way, they had to stop in a loop to let a train pass. Whilst there, they overheard a surprising conversation.
"What this line needs," said a workman, "is a crane. A nice big one too."
"What do we need a crane for?" asked another workman. "We've already got one."
"Only a little dinky thing," the first workman replied. "Good for lifting rails and ballast and other things like that, but not so good if you need to lift engines or coaches or trucks. For that we really need a much bigger crane that can pull such large things up without tipping over."
"If only it were that simple," said the second workman. "It's not like you can drive down to Tesco, stop at the front desk, and ask 'can we have a heavy duty rail crane, please'? We'd have to either find or build one."
"And even that's a tall order."
Ray overheard this conversation with interest as the line cleared. He puffed away, still thinking to himself about the question.
A little while later, they arrived at Whitby, and Lord and Lady Haven disembarked after parking Ray safely in place. As they spent time at the beach, one of the rare opportunities they had away from their work, Ray continued to think about what the workmen had said. It was true that big cranes were hard to come by, but having one around was quite useful. Two would be an extravagence which was hard to justify for many lines. I mean, how many times do things tip over around here? Well, maybe once or twice but that's hardly accident prone operations.
Eventually, a while had passed, and it was mid day. The crew had reboarded the footplate and were preparing for departure, when Lord Haven had an idea. "Remember how we used to do some exploring back in the old days?" he said to Lady Haven.
"Why, of course I do! We must have covered a considerable amount of the Dorset countryside. Are you suggesting we do so again?"
"But around here, and if we're in luck we'll find something remarkable."
Ray was facing the wrong way round, and therefore had no idea where he was going as he was reversed towards a tunnel. The line that North Yorkshire Moors trains use to reach Whitby is one of only two routes into the region. There is another, much tougher route, which hugs the coastline and weaves past the sea, climbing towards other towns and settlements. This line had recently been reopened, and was light on traffic, so Ray set off up this route.
Before long, the sea and coast gave way to rolling fields and some trees, with many exciting and new objects at the lineside. A junction soon came up, and the formation stopped at a signal box.
The signalman was most surprised. "I wasn't expecting a railtour coming this way!" he said. "It's mainly ballast trains in these parts."
Lady Haven spoke next. "We're looking for something interesting in the region. Is there something interesting down these lines?"
"Why, yes!" the signalman replied. "Down that branch is an old quarry and maintenance yard, which has recently reopened. There won't be another quarry train for a while, so you can head down there now."
The line changed, and they set off down the line into the quarry. The quarry was clearly still being tidied up, as chaotically arranged machinery lined the place.
And Ray was particularly interested in one of them. "Look there!" he said. "It's a crane!"
And it was. It was an enormous crane, with an arm the length of a bus, several large trucks to support his weight, a massive network of cables, and some scattered equipment nearby. "Hello," the crane said. "What brings a steam engine down here?"
"An old crane!" Lord Haven said. "And a large one too! Quite the handy find, this."
"I take it you plan on restoring me?" the crane said. "I'm Rocky, by the way."
"I will admit I know relatively little about cranes," Lady Haven admitted. "But I know somebody who restored a crane tank all by herself." She produced a phone and began to dial a number. "Hello? Ah, Goldie, nice to hear from you. I have something that will probably interest you..."
After Rocky was taken off the branch and towards Cornwall to be mended, Ray and his crew returned to the shed, where he glanced about at the other engines who were resting. "Quite an exciting day, that was," he said.
"Did they have a new stamp out?" Charles asked.
"No need to mock him!" Sophie added.
"We found a crane," Ray replied. "And he's being taken all the way down to Falmouth so Goldie can fix him. What do you think of that, eh?"
"Rubbish!" Charles replied. "You'd never get that lot back to Cornwall!"
Ray simmered happily in the evening light as the last services of the day departed. There's truly had been a jolly holiday.
Jeremy Clarkson - Captain Charles Liza Koshy - Zipp Storm Michael Dobson - The fireman, Trick Shot, assorted voices Kimberley Ann-Truong - The complaining mother, Marigold, assorted voices Sophia Carson - Pipp Petals Jane Krakowski - Lady Haven Richard E. Grant - Lord Haven Vanessa Hudgens - Sunny Starscout Kimiko Glenn - Izzy Moonbow Steve Blum - Isaac Moonbow Felicia Day - Aurora Dawn Michael McKean - Argyle Starshine Richard Hammond - Porter Keith Whickam - Salty Headmaster Hastings - Himself James Marsden - Hitch Trailblazer Ellen-Ray Hennessy - Grandma Figgy Ian Riley - Himself Rachel Miller - Rebecca Christopher Gaze - Admiral Seaspray Paul Dobson - Sir Keith Park Bahia Watson - Misty Joseph Swash - Bellerophon Theresa Gallagher - Sophie Peter New - The Artist Tara Strong - Goldie David Tennant - Hamish Matt Wilkinson - Rocky
