My heartbeat sped up to match the fast drumming chuffs of Thomas' pistons. We were on a direct collision course with the fallen tree.
"I'm starting to feel a little short of puff," Thomas panted.
"Keep it up 'til we're through," Anne braced herself on the cab window.
"You can't be serious?!" I copied, bracing myself on the opposite cab window.
"I am," Anne replied, "That tree's old and rotten. It'll shatter when we hit it, and the line will clear."
"I hope you're right," I said with more skepticism in my voice than expected. The tree drew closer at an alarming rate.
"Head in," Anne instructed, leaning herself into the cab, hands gripping the window edges.
I mimicked, tensed, lips tucked in as we waited for the moment of impact.
A shake rippled from Thomas' front through to the cab. Shards of disintegrating bark flew past the cab windows. Shadows doused us in darkness. Anne threw herself forward, grabbing the brake. Our speed slowed. I allowed myself the luxury of another breath.
A salty wave of air washed through the cab. Buildings clustered either side of us as we rolled onto one of the quayside sidings. Anne brought us to a stop. "Let me go fiddle with the points," she climbed down from the cab.
Nodding, I paused, hearing coughing over the lapping of the waves.
"I had my eyes closed, but not my mouth," Thomas spat.
"Lesson learned," I breathed, checking the firebox. Thomas' fire was dying down. We didn't have long to get him back into the shed.
"I forgot how blue the sea was," Thomas spoke, softly, "And dark, and how it glistens in the light."
I leant out of the cab. Pink clouds swirled as sunset orange seeped overhead, completing the Sodor scene. Never in a million years did I expect to be sitting in Thomas' cab under heavens painted with such unfiltered beauty.
Anne returned. "The points are rusted in place," she sighed, "If we can get the set on this line moving, its one crossover to the shed berth. Then we should be okay."
"Alright, hurry," I glanced at the fire, "Try breaking the rods, or using the winch."
Anne nodded, dropping off the cab ladder.
I sat, waiting. Pain started to return to my leg. The adrenaline of the ride, and the final rush brought on by the fallen tree, began to subside. Me and Thomas were both in the same boat. In need of a good, long, uninterrupted rest.
I closed my eyes, hearing Anne uncouple the Defender, revving the engine over to wherever she needed it. I tried to rest, without dozing off. The winch whirred back to life, but loud seagulls drowned it out with indignant squawks. The clattering of boots on the footplate stirred me again.
"I looped the winch cable around the rod and forced them to change," Anne said, looking at me.
I looked back. Her eyes were wide, eyebrows raised, and her mouth hung open, lips caught in the trap of being unsure whether to talk.
"You're pale."
"Pale?" I squinted at her.
"Yeah," she bit her lip, looking back to Thomas' controls, "We need to get you to a doctor. You've been numbing your pain with drugs for too long."
Touching my face, cold skin stole the heat from my fingertips. The drugs and adrenaline must've kept my colour up. Doubt interrogated my thoughts. Was risking my health worth it, for a train ride?
Hell yes.
"Almost there," Anne said to Thomas, voice calm and soothing. She shifted some controls, and Thomas began to edge backwards.
"I feel so weak," Thomas huffed, "I'm not as fit as I used to be."
I sat, wondering if I was of any use. There was no more shovelling to do.
Buildings drew past us again, shrouding us in shadows. Then a roof slipped overhead, and Anne brought us to a complete stop. A wheesh of steam filled the shed, the hiss simmering. Anne left the cab and returned with a bucket of water. Thrusting its contents into the firebox, a recoiling hiss of steam spewed forth, filling the cab with a sticky hot mist that loosened the soot on my skin. Wiping my forehead, I located my walking stick. Sliding over to the cab door, I dropped my legs and spun, carefully lowering myself down to the ground with aching arms. Exhaustion continued to sweep over me, leaving no muscle unharmed. Wobbling on my feet, I steadied myself with my stick.
Giggling, feminine voices laughed and chattered behind me.
Turning, my balance distorted, I was met with an undercarriage, atop which sat a carriage body, painted orange-brown with a faded yellow stripe. As the steam cleared, I noticed there were two coaches, and that the shed was of newer construction, being predominantly metal.
The penny dropped.
As Thomas chattered away, the mist revealed the names of Annie and Clarabel, faint yet clear, on the coaches' sides.
I staggered awkwardly towards the front of the shed, fueled on a new, unhealthy burst of energy. Anne was already there as I stepped out into the setting sun beaming in through the open shed door. "Is this... Are they...?" I asked Thomas, still not really believing it.
"Yes," Thomas answered, "Annie, Clarabel. Anne's brought a visitor to see us."
"Oh my!" gasped Annie, "What a surprise!" Her voice hushed, "They look like they've been through the wars."
"Yes! Bad enough for a leg cast," Clarabel added.
"Hush," Annie said, "Don't upset the poor thing... It's a pleasure to meet you."
Their smiles, so inviting, fitted their grandmotherly voices. Thomas wasn't going to be alone after all. He knew they were here, and wanted to see them again.
The modern metal shed had kept them well protected from the coastal air. Both carriages had little peeling paint or rust on the bogies. It was only time that had worn their paint down. Thomas, my heart sighed with relief, was going to be okay.
"How are Percy and Toby?" Clarabel resumed the conversation I'd interrupted.
"They're fine," Thomas answered, "As rude as ever. Keen to embarrass me in front of company."
"They were never rude!" Annie protested.
"Percy called me a slow learner!"
"Thomas," Anne pointed at him, voice stiff.
"I know," Thomas frowned, put back in his place.
Anne turned to me. "Right then. It's time for us to go."
"Go?" I questioned.
"Yes," Anne's brow furrowed, "Back to my boat?"
My tired eyes shot wide. It had come round so soon. Too soon. I had all my answers, but leaving still seemed too far off...
My eyes stared at the big blue puffball, nattering away to his closest friends. Watching them interact, it was clear he'd always been much closer to them than Percy or Toby. I'd done my final part – helping Thomas get to where he needed to be, to who he needed to be with.
I didn't move. My hands trembled, eyes awash, as an ambivalent nausea filled me. "I can't. I..."
Thomas looked at me, and understood. "Thank you," he smiled, "For your trip, your company, and getting me here."
I tilted my head. Words were suddenly too hard to say or find. I shuffled closer, resting my hands on his cold buffer. I turned to Anne. "Don't we need to clean him? Service him?"
"There's no time," Anne kept her gaze on me, "We need to make it back to Man before dark."
"Don't worry about me," said Thomas, "I'd rather bear the marks of a Really Useful engine than be spic-and-span for no reason at all."
I didn't let go of the buffer. After all these years, I could hold him. How could I let go now? "I'll never forget you," I found some words. Tears rolled down my cheeks, pattering onto his buffer housing.
"Nor will I," Thomas looked down on me with those big, round eyes. Sincere, grateful eyes.
My hands peeled away from him, and I shuffled, hesitant to turn my back. The walking stick handle wobbled in my hand.
Then I did it.
I turned away.
I headed towards the Defender parked outside the shed. Anne was already outside. I'd been too wrapped up in that heart-breaking moment to notice she'd walked out before me. Her wide eyes oozed empathy. Before I could look back for one last time, she hauled the metal shutter down, saving me from the temptation to slip back inside.
As the scouring shriek of the rusty shutter ceased, silence flooded the world for but a second. Anne padlocked the shutter closed. I turned, looking at its blank exterior, mottled with rust and salt deposits. What was inside would be sacred to me forever.
My head span, dizziness twirling through me. Anne caught me, stabilising me as we shuffled to her car door. My leg stung, throbbing with pain again as I folded myself into the car's passenger seat. The medication had completely worn off. Anne tossed me a bottle of water and shut the car door. Firing up the engine, she turned us round, and we rocked over the rails back towards her boat.
Anne parked us on deck, slipping the handbrake on as she leapt out to prepare the boat for departure. I sat, breathing deep and slow, eyes closed. Gulls cackled. Waves lapped against the quayside and the boat's hull.
Throwing the door open, I stumbled out into the air again. I needed one last breath, one more shot of Sodor in my blood. I inhaled, keeping the air prisoner in my lungs. Turning on my good foot, I slid down the side of the boat onto the deck. There I laid, battered, weary and unbeaten, but heading home.
The boat rocked as we left the harbour, heading into open waters. It lulled, soothing, on the small waves. "Once we're in the main current, I'll throw some food on to cook. We're both famished after such a day," Anne called from the helm.
I gave a feeble nod, eyes closed. Sitting up, I could see the Island behind us, revealed in fresh colours by the evening sky. Tall sandstone cliffs stood in hues of deep orange, and grassy hills radiated dark purple under pink clouds. The tall, black spires of Knapford and Tidmouth's church buildings jutted against the darkening heavens.
I'd done it. I'd seen Sodor, gotten answers, and met childhood friends for the first time. It had been an adventure, about trains, railways and the magic that brought us together. As we left Sodor behind, only one thought came to my mind:
There will never be anything like it anywhere.