'Neville And The Express'

The morning after Mavis returned to the Ffarquhar Quarry and Daisy returned to work, Neville stood alone in his Shed in Tidmouth Harbor. He didn’t have any trains to take, so he just stood in the Shed listening to the hustle and bustle of the harbor and the seagulls crying their calls across the property. However, the Q1 locomotive was surprised to find his Driver coming up to him.

“Driver, what’s going on?” asked Neville as the wartime locomotive’s Fireman got his fire going and started to build it.

“Bear’s ‘failed’ with a damaged cylinder head gasket,” said the Fireman as the Driver climbed into the cab, “you’re to take the Express to Crovan’s Gate. We’re to shunt our own coaches since Kingfisher, Jinty, and Fowler are too busy with their shunting.”

Neville was unsure. He’d never taken coaches before aside from the time he pulled Annie and Clarabel to the Crovan’s Gate Carriage Works for new axle boxes to be fitted not too long after he arrived on Sodor in 2005. But being the determined and helpful locomotive he was, he set off for the Big Station. Neville puffed into the Yard tender-first. He was directed to the line which had his coaches. He clanked in and buffered up to them quite roughly.

“Ow!” they exclaimed, “watch it!”

“Sorry,” said Neville, “I’m not used to coaches. I’ve mainly pulled trucks since I got here 16 years ago.”

“Trucks???” exclaimed the cantankerous coaches, “what a pong!”

“Shut it,” snapped Neville as he was coupled up, “or I’ll have Douglas smash you to matchsticks!”

“What a horrid brute!” sneered a coach.

Neville brought the coaches into platform 2.

“Quite biffing us around,” said a coach as Charlie entered the opposite platform with a commuter train from Crovan’s Gate.

“Good gravy train you lot’re real smarty-buffers,” said Charlie incorigiously.

“He’s the smarty-buffers,” said the coaches, “our poor bogies!”

“It’s gonna be a long day,” said the Driver.

“You could say that again Driver,” sighed Neville. A moment later the Guard’s whistle sounded and Neville left. Charlie watched him go. Even though he was a joker like Bill and Ben, he knew that that stuff wasn’t a healthy mentality for a locomotive or piece of rolling stock.

“I’ve got a bad feeling something’s going to happen to him,” said the Playful Purple Engine as he steamed off to put his coaches away and fetch his trucks of ballast to take to Ulfstead Castle. Meanwhile Neville came to an abrupt halt at the Junction to meet Thomas with the connecting run.

“Bust by buffers Neville,” said Thomas as Neville’s buffers clashed hard against the coach behind his tender, “are those coaches giving you trouble?”

The passengers came out saying what a Bad Railway it was as they boarded Thomas’s train.

“I’m fine,” replied Neville. Before Thomas could reply, the Guard for Neville’s train blew his whistle and the “Q1” abruptly departed the station, blowing steam from his cylinders as he puffed into the tunnel. Thomas was worried.

“I’ll mention it to the Fat Controller,” said Thomas’s Fireman as the Tank Engine steamed away. As Neville’s journey continued, the austerity locomotive was finding these coaches pretty tricky to handle. Neville had heard stories of the luxury trains like the “Bournemouth Belle,” the “Golden Arrow,” and the Southern Region’s other crack express trains from his BR service career from the stories the likes of Belgian Marine, Peninsular & Oriental S&N Co., Clan Line, British India Line, Sir Lamiel, and even some of the “King Arthur” Ten Wheelers told him in the 1950s, but he was new to hauling express passenger trains. The coaches bad-mouthed him at every single chance. At last, Neville had to stop at a signal to let James, coming in the other direction with empty cars from the Branch Line Yard at Kellsthorpe Road to be taken to Edward’s station, go by him. He was at the foot of Gordon’s Hill. Edward was to be his back engine.

“What are you steamed up about?” asked the “Larger Seagull.”

“It’s these buffoons,” said Neville crossly as James tore by at a safe speed, “they’re more trouble than they’re worth! They’ve complained endlessly since the journey started! I wish I could give them a good bump.”

“I’d ignore that,” said Edward, “but all the same, have you asked how to pull a passenger train?”

Neville said no. He didn’t hear Edward’s reply, for he was too deep in thought about the Fat Controller’s reaction. As James disappeared, Neville and Edward started up. The coaches complained bitterly about being stuck behind a Dirty Goods Engine.

“Dirty Goods Engine, Dirty Goods Engine,” they scoffed, “we won’t stand for it!”

Neville’s patience was dangerously depleting. Even Edward had to admit these coaches were complaining unnecessarily. Neville whistled his thanks as he sped off. As Edward steamed back to his station, he was worried. Although he tried not to, he was worried about what might befall Neville.

“I don’t like how those coaches are harassing the poor lad,” he said.

“I’ll mention that to the Fat Controller,” said Edward’s Driver as the K2 Larger Seagull fell through the Junction. Edward sighed with relief as he reversed into the Yard to take some empty China clay tankers to the Docks for Bill and Ben to take back to their yard. Back to Neville meanwhile, he was having trouble with the coaches.

“We don’t want you, we don’t want you,” they exclaimed.

“Belt up and come along! Belt up and come along!” huffed Neville. The coaches and engine were making life difficult for the passengers. They were complaining about the coaches and locomotive’s grumbling. And it wasn’t long before everybody on the train, even the Guard and crew, were complaining. The rest of the journey to Crovan’s Gate wasn’t pleasant at all. However, worse was to come. As Neville arrived at the Works, Geoff was to take the train on to the mainland while Neville looked after the Steamworks with Stepney. However, the Class 47 had been called away to an emergency at the Dieselworks, so he’d have to take the train to the mainland himself.

“Sorry lad,” said the Fireman, “guess we’ll have to put up with these thugs a while longer.”

“Come on,” puffed Neville, “let’s get this horrid lot there and get rid of it.”

For the coaches, that was the last straw. They refused to move. Neville whistled and started off at the Guard’s whistle, but the coaches set their brakes hard and refused to move.

“We’re not gonna move,” they said.

“Shut up,” said Neville, “I said come along!”

Neville gave a great heave. The coaches groaned in protest and refused to move. The powerful freight locomotive was puffing hard. His wheels spun furiously again and again and soot, steam, and smoke shot from Neville’s funnel high into the air. Finally, the coupling between Neville’s tender and the coaches broke and he shot forward and derailed. The coaches laughed quietly. The passengers were cross. They stormed the ticket window at Crovan’s Gate and demanded their money back. By some miracle they weren’t hard to calm down. But they were worried about missing their connection. Fortunately, Alice the Atlantic Engine and Emily arrived on their morning Branch Line Flier run.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” said the Stationmaster, “if you’ll board the train on the other platform, we’ll have you on your way as soon as possible.”

Emily looked at the coaches suspiciously as the passengers walked over the station and got on board her and Alice’s train. These coaches were laughing quietly. As Stepney brought the Breakdown Train up, the Fat Controller arrived. He was cross.

“Neville what are you playin’ at?” he demanded angrily, “I’ve heard nothing but complaints about you from the passengers!”

Neville wasn’t sure how to respond. Nor were his Driver and Fireman.

“You can stay in your Shed till you’re wanted,” said the Fat Controller.

“You got into trouble!” laughed the coaches, “we’ll never be found out!”

The Fat Controller stared at the coaches. He walked right up to them and said, “Have you got something to do with this?”

The coaches quivered. Neville’s crew and the Guard from the Express told them all about Neville’s trouble. The Q1 locomotive admitted he’d been too preoccupied with what the Fat Controller might say to listen to Edward’s advice on how to pull coaches.

“Neville,” said the Fat Controller, “once you’re back on the rails you’ll be assigned to waste and engineering trains until the end of the month.”

“Yes sir,” replied Neville.

“As for you,” said the Fat Controller, turning sharply and pointing at the coaches, “you’ve done more damage than any truck on this railway ever could. I understand your grievance but this is crossing the line. There’ll be no ‘letting it slide.’ Once you’re out of the way you’ll be put in the Shed until I can figure out what to do with you.”

“Why not use them as beach huts?” asked the Stationmaster, “or even better yet public outhouses? Think of how many stalls you can fit in there.”

“Then that’s what I’ll do,” said the Fat Controller. After Neville was mended and was released from his punishment in early September, the coaches had become public outhouses and would be sent to a holiday camp in Skegness. Neville was at Barrow to witness them.

“This isn’t over boxy,” said the coaches angrily as Powerhouse set off for Skegness with the coaches themselves on flat-trucks.

“Oh it’s over alright,” said Neville as he puffed off, “see you never again!”