Brothers In The Pits: Stories of Industrial Steam

Chapter Eight: Saying Goodbye

Not long after Charles' incident on the hill, the mine further fell into hard times. The trains weren't as long now; whereas they had frequently been up to fifteen trucks long, they were rarely more than seven or eight now. They were less frequent as well, and the trackwork on the line began to deteriorate as funds started running dry.
As another day dawned on the Beckington colliery, Mr. Johnson was sitting in his office, sadly going through some paperwork. As he looked through various order forms, there was a knock on the door. He beckoned the stranger in, and was surprised to find the division head walking in. "Oh, Mr. Daniels!" He said. "This is a surprise."
Mr. Daniels smiled. "Good to see you again, Fred," he said. "I've come in to ask about the diesel's trials here. How did it go?"
     "Not very good," Mr. Johnson replied. "He performed adequately, but crews reported he had engine trouble throughout his stay, culminating in him breaking down on the hill last week. Rotten personality, too."
     The division head looked thoughtful. "I see," he said at last. "Well, If you wouldn't mind sending him down to Norwood Heath when you can, the boys in the works can take a look at him. Now, on to... well..." He went silent, his face falling.
     Mr. Johnson grew concerned. "What's the matter?" He asked.
     Mr Daniels sighed. "As I'm sure you know, you've been here at Beckington since the colliery was nationalized. We'd like to thank you for your time here, but I'm afraid that with the mine's impending closure, the board and I have agreed it would be best to transfer you to another colliery, one where your expertise would be sorely needed."
     Mr. Johnson was shocked. "But what about everything that needs doing here? We can't just leave this place to fend for itself."
     "We have another manager arranged to take over for you already," Mr. Daniels said. "I'm sorry Fred, but we need to face the facts here. The writing is on the wall for this line. I'm very sorry," he finished, as he stepped out of the office.
     A few days later, Mr. Johnson walked to the engine sheds. The engines looked on with interest as another man stepped in after him. "I'd like you to meet Mr. Isaac Stephenson," he said. "He'll be taking over for me when I leave."
     The engines were shocked. "You're leaving?" Melissa gasped. "When? W-where?!"
     "I'm being transferred to a colliery in the west of Yorkshire," Mr. Johnson replied. "I'll be leaving in three days. I'm just as surprised as you are, and I don't like it any more than you do, but I'm afraid I have no say in the matter. Mr. Stephenson will be shadowing me for the next two days to learn what needs doing." The two men left the sheds, the  engines now dreadfully upset.
     Very soon, everyone came to dislike Mr. Stephenson. He was loud, cranky, and shouted at everyone and everything he could lock his eyes on. "You'd think he'd be happy with getting new job," Mike observed.
     "People can't be happy with what they're given," Kent grumbled.
     Very soon, Mr. Johnson's last day came. The engines did their best to put on a brave face, and they, Mr. Johnson, and some of the workmen talked in the sheds that evening, reminiscing about happier times. Soon, however, it was time for the men to leave for the day. "Thank you all so much for being so kind," Mr. Johnson said happily. "I couldn't think of anything better to wrap up my time here. You've all been wonderful."
     "We wanted to give you a proper goodbye," Melissa said, tears in her eyes. "You've been the best manager we could've asked for. It's you we should be thanking, sir."
     Mr. Johnson simply beamed. As he turned to leave, another voice spoke. "Sir?" Alan wheezed from the back of the shed. "Can I have a word?" The manager walked back to find that the old engine was smiling. "Thank you ever so much for everything," he said. "I don't know where I'd be without you."
     "It was my pleasure, Alan," Mr. Johnson said. "You've been my venerable old solider, and I have so much to thank you for. I'm going to miss you." He walked out of the sheds, trying to hold back tears, as the engines watched sadly on.
They were in for a rude awakening the next morning, as Mr. Stephenson barged through the shed doors with some workmen. He pointed a Alan, a sneer on his face. "Have a look at him and see if we can take him off the roster," he sneered.
"WHAT?!" The engines all cried at once.
"You heard me," Mr. Stephenson scoffed. "An engine of his age shouldn't be in service now. "He'd be better off cut up." He turned to the workmen. "I want the inspection done with by lunchtime, you hear?" And he strode out of the shed.
Unfortunately for the engines, Alan was in a poor state. His parts were worn, and his boiler was old. The new manager was quick to make the arrangements he wanted. Alan was to be taken to Norwood Heath the next day, and taken by British Railways to a scrapyard far away from the colliery. Outraged, but unable to stop him, the engines made a plan to give Alan a proper goodbye.
The next morning, Mr. Stephenson bustled into the yard to find that the trains were empty. He soon found out why; there, waiting to go, were all four of the engines. Alan, sandwiched between Kent and the twins, looked grandest of all, his paintwork near-spotless and his metal gleaming. The workmen were there, too, all cheering for the old engine and saying goodbye. "What's this?!" Mr. Stephenson roared as he strode up angrily to the cavalcade.
"We're giving Alan the farewell he deserves!" Mike said, spitting angrily at the new manager. "Just because you don't care for him doesn't mean we feel the same!" Mr. Stephenson was about to reply, but found he had nobody to back him up; the workmen all glared at him as though daring him to say any more. He gave the engines one final glance before angrily stomping away.
The farewells continued until it was time for the engines to leave. "You've all been so kind," Alan said, weeping. "Thank you ever so much." With cheers and whistles echoing all around, the four engines left for Norwood Heath. The departure of both manager and engine marked the end of an era at Beckington. What little was left of its glory days was gone; now, all that remained was the end.