Book One: The Three Model Engines 

Edward's Day Out.

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Once there was a little model engine named Edward. She lived on a retired Reverend's model railway with five other model engines. The other engines were all larger, stronger and newer than her. 

She had been the good Reverend’s first engine you see, a gift from one of his parishioners back when he had still been their Reverend. A model kit of a 4-4-0 of Midland type known as a 2P, she had been lovingly built in his spare time. Painted in a lovely blue with red stripes, the colours of his parish, she had spent many years before his retirement happily, either on a short stretch of track on his desk or traveling with him to the local model club. 

But the good Reverend was retired now, and finally had time to build his own layouts, and had bought more engines to run them. The newer engines had slowly become the ones to go to the club and it had been a long time since Edward had been run.

This particular morning was a special one indeed, for the Reverend had completed his exhibition layout, and was taking it to his first show.

Some of the other engines boasted to her, “the Reverend won’t pick you again. He wants strong, modern engines like us. Last thing he needs is for you to embarrass him.”

Edward quietly began to cry.

The Reverend entered the room, a kind souled man used to watching over his flock for many years, immediately spotted his first engine's tears.

“Miss Edwards my dear,” he said gently, “whatever is the matter? Are you feeling up to the exhibition today?”

The other engines stared in disbelief as Edward asked, “I'm…I'm going sir?”

“Of course my dear,” he soothed as he gently lifted her from her spot on the shelf, “I could hardly leave my first engine behind on such a day as this.”

He carried her over to his work bench and began gently dusting her with a soft brush. The Reverend’s wife entered the room carrying Edward’s travel box.

“Thank you my dear,” he kissed her lovingly on the forehead as he took the box, placing Edward in with care. 

The Reverend had long fitted a small window to her case to allow her to see out, saying “it is only right for an engine to see their travels,” so she was able to contentedly watch the journey once she had been loaded into the family car.

The trip did not take long, as this show was local, and in fact hosted by their model club. Several of the Reverends' friends were waiting for them.

“I say old man!” one of them exclaimed, “You actually finished it in time?”

The Reverend chuckled warmly as he hugged the man, “I said it would be, Robert.”

Another of the men chuckled, one Edward remembered being named Mister Sand, clapping Mr. Robert on the back, “old Hatt can actually finish a project, unlike some of us.”

“Oi!”

Edward’s case was carried to their table by Mrs. Hatt, leaving the men to sort out themselves and the layout. Mrs. Hatt gently lifted Edward from her box and set her on the table to watch as the men set up. The Hatt’s table was at the end of the club’s exhibition layout, allowing the Reverend's layout to be joined up, and trains run through. The men fussed around the layout, making sure the baseboards were aligned and the wires connected in proper order, until finally it was time.

The Reverend gently lifted her and lowered her onto the rails with practiced care.

“Speaking of,” Mister Sand said, “is that Miss Edward?”

The Reverend nodded as he checked to make sure she had been properly rerailed. “But of course, I could hardly leave her at home today,” he began lowering a rake of coaches onto the station side track behind Edward. “The only reason she hasn't been to the club lately is the others needed proper running in.”

He flipped a final switch and reached for the controller, easing the power on. Edward couldn't help a shiver as electricity flowed through her once again. She reversed slowly onto the coaches, stretching her wheels as she went.

 She gently coupled up to her coaches, who were quite pleased to see Edward. “We're glad you're taking us today,” they sang, “the others are much too rough and impatient.”

The Reverend chuckled at their complaints, “the others are still learning my dears.”

The coaches grumbled quietly, the still chuckling Reverend shaking his head amusedly.

Edward waited and waited, but still the show didn't start. “Where is everyone? “We were supposed to start quite some time ago.” she fussed anxiously, the coaches tittering in agreement.

“Patience my dear.” He soothed gently, “these things never start on time.”

“They do at other clubs,” Mrs. Hatt teased good naturedly from where she had begun knitting.

Finally the doors opened, and the crowd walked in, following a blushing club member.

“It's time my dears,” Reverend Hatt called as he advanced the controller.

“Peep Peep!” Edward whistled as she dug her wheels in and pulled, the train slowly starting. The coaches quietly sang as they picked up speed.

As the first visitors approached, Edward raced smoothly onto the Club's layout.

She ran up and down the layouts throughout the day. Alternating between her coaches and goods trains as they worked through the time table. 

Children waved as she raced past, Edward always making sure to whistle as she passed them. Many of the adults were the Reverend's former congregation, and were used to seeing Edward on his desk, so made sure to greet her as well. When resting at the stations she spoke with the models owned by the other members of the club, catching up on old times. 

By the time the show came to a close, Erward was exhausted, but content.  Mrs.Hatt carefully placed her back in her case as the Reverend and his friends broke down the layout and loaded it back into the car. It was well past dark when they returned home and Edward was placed back on the shelf.

“Well done Edward,” he praised quietly, “I'll be sure to take you again to the next exhibition.”

Just what the other models thought of that Edward didn't know, for she fell asleep, tired, but so very happy.

Book 1-The Three Model Engines

Edward's Day Out

Edward and Gordon

The Sad Story of Henry

Henry's Second Chance

Book 2-Tahsa the Model Engine

Tasha and Gordon

Tasha's Train

Tasha and the Trucks

Tasha and the Runaway

Book 3-Jasmine the Red Engine

Jasmine and the Exhibition

Jasmine and the Bootlace

Book One: The Three Model Engines

The Sad Story of Henry.

Other Chapters

Other Stories

Once a model engine pulling a train

Was afraid of his paint being stained

He went into a tunnel, 

and squeaked through its funnel

And never came out again.

The model’s name was Henry. He was a 4-6-0 of LMS styling bought second hand by the Reverend to pull the express on his layout. Unfortunately he had proven an unreliable runner, often breaking down and needing repairs. Despite the best efforts of the Reverend, Henry’s reliability had remained poor enough that the Reverend had finally bought Gordon at a model store to have an engine to pull the express.

One would think this would have instilled Henry with a sense of humility, but he maintained a high opinion of himself as one of the only big engines the Reverend owned, assuming himself to be irreplaceable.

This came to a head during a show one spring morning. Henry had been complaining all morning, as it had been raining as they were brought out of the house. He had complained further when they were brought into the show. No one had paid him any mind, as they knew the Reverend would repaint them if truly needed, but being ignored only offended Henry further.

One of the club member’s children nearly spilling a bottle of paint on him was the final straw. He stopped in the tunnel on the Club's exhibition layout and refused to move.

The Reverend and his friends tried to argue with him, but he stubbornly remained in place.

“My lovely green paint and red stripes will be ruined.” He said bitterly.

“Come along now Mrs. Hatt attempts to soothe him, but to no avail.

“I am not going to spoil my lovely green paint and red stripes for you.” He said rudely.

The Reverend's gaze had hardened, "then we will pull you out.

Edward was run down from the Reverend's layout, “look outside,” she pleaded, “it has stopped raining and…”

“Yes, but it will begin again soon.” He interrupted, “and what will become of my paint then?”

Edward was buffered up behind and she pushed and pulled with all her might, but still Henry refused to move.

The Reverend had finally had enough, “my dears.” He said to Edward and the coaches as he uncoupled the coaches from Henry with a pen,” Would you run ahead so your passengers will reach their destination?”

The coaches readily agreed and Edward ran ahead with Henry's train.

‘Good riddance,’ Henry thought smugly. But he had thought it too quickly, for he had forgotten he was not a real engine, but merely a model of one, for the next thing he knew the Reverend's hand had reached into the tunnel and dragged the rebellious model clear out of the tunnel and off the rails.

“So you don't want to run Henry? Very well.” The Reverend said sternly, and the model realized too late he had pushed too far. He was carried to the Reverend's exhibition layout where a strange square with a section of unconnected track on it and fence around it had been placed beside the station building a week or two earlier. “I had planned to build a static kit of a locomotive to plinth here,” the Reverend explained, “but you will do until you know how to behave.”

Henry was placed on the plinth, and he quickly realized no power ran to the rails, and he couldn't have moved even if he wanted to.

Now Henry could only watch as other models ran past, and no one paid his paint any mind any more, focusing instead on the running engines.

Book Two: Tasha the Model Engine

Tasha and Gordon

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Tasha was a small model tank engine owned by the Reverend. She was based on the Midland 3F ‘Jinties’ with six small wheels, a short stumpy funnel, a short stumpy boiler, and a short stumpy dome.

No one was quite sure where she had come from, if they were to be honest. She had simply been left on the Club's table during an exhibition. No one had truly paid attention to the small tank engine shunting the yard until the show ended. When asked, Tasha had had no knowledge of her original owner, having woke only as the power of the Club's Exhibition Layout flowed through her for the first time.

 Night was falling, and everyone had wished to go home, so the Reverend had taken the tank engine home while the show's organizers had contacted as many of the visitors they could to find her home, but to no avail. No one was certain what to do with the stowaway engine, but the Reverend saw how much it meant for Edward to have another engine to share her shelf with, so he had paid the organizers the cost of a new Jinty, and the matter was considered settled.

Tasha had proven a fussy but hard working little engine as she settled in. She could often be found at the big station on the Club's layout, pulling coaches and trucks about as she prepared the other engine's trains. She arranged their outgoing trains, and sorted the empty coaches and trucks from the ones that arrived.

Tasha was a cheeky little engine and believed none of the big engines worked as hard as she did. The older models had humored her, well used to the antics of young tank engines. But as newer big engines such as Gordon and Henry arrived, they held no such patience towards the excitable station pilot.

“Station pilots should be seen and not heard,” they would grumble.

Quite unimpressed, Tasha had quickly taken to playing tricks on them in turn. She loved best to sneak quietly beside a big engine sleeping on one of the layout’s sidings and make them jump.

“Peep, peep, peep, pip, peep!” She would whistle, “Wake up Lazybones! Why don't you work hard like me?”

Then she would laugh and run away.

Needless to say, this did little to endear Tasha to the bigger engines.

One evening Gordon was resting in the sidings after a run with the express. The club had been late starting that night, so he'd had to work hard to make up the time. He had brought the train in on time, but was very tired.

He was just falling asleep when Tasha rolled up in her cheeky way.

“Wake up lazybones!” She peeped, “do some hard work for a change, you can't catch me!”

Gordon watched irritability as she ran off laughing. “Do some hard work?” He grumbled, “we'll see about that little Tasha,” and instead of falling back asleep he stayed awake plotting how to pay Tasha out.

He got his chance a few nights later. Tasha had struggled to wake up, even as the Reverend had applied full power to the controller. She had slowly run along the sidings, collecting the coaches for the express, yawning and shaking her head in an attempt to wake herself up.

“Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” she yawned.

“Where have you been? Where have you been? Where have you been?” The coaches fussed anxiously as she pulled them to the platform.

“Come along, don't fuss. Come along, don't fuss,” Tasha grumbled sleepily back.

Gordon hid a smirk as he realized his chance had come.

“Poop poop poop! Hurry up!” He called, false crossly, “I shan't be late because of you.”

“Peep pip peep! Hurry yourself,” She snarked back

“Yes, I will,” Gordon chuckled to himself and quickly came out of his siding and backed down onto the express almost before Tasha had stopped moving.

He dug his wheels in quietly, and waited eagerly for the signal to drop. The clock above the layout struck the hour, and the signals dropped. Gordon normally started slowly, as was prototypical, but this time he pulled forward as quickly as he could with a whistle.

Tasha always helped start the larger trains such as the express, but she normally uncoupled so she wouldn't be pulled along once the train was started, but Gorodn started quickly enough the coupler was pulled taunt before she could.

“Come on! Come on!” Gordon called to the coaches.

“Pull harder! Pull harder!” Tasha puffed back.

The train went faster and faster…too fast for Tasha.

“Peep! Peep! Stop! Stop!” She whistled as she realized she couldn't pull away.

Gordon just laughed at the front, “Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!” He puffed, pretending not to notice Tasha.

“You can't get away! You can't get away!” The coaches laughed.

Poor Tasha was going far faster then she had ever been designed to. She was out of breath and her wheels and gears ached, but still Gordon raced on.

‘I will never run the same again,’ she thought desperately, ‘my wheels and gears will be quite worn out.’

But Gordon for all his flaws, was not a cruel natured engine, and stopped the express on the part of the layout Reverend was controlling with a chuckle. The Reverend raised an eyebrow at the express’s unscheduled stop and the panting tank engine behind.

“Excuse me sir, but I'm afraid Tasha’s coupler failed to release properly.” Gordon said, his voice full of innocence and sincerity, “would you mind uncoupling her?”

“Hmmmm.” The Reverend hummed, well aware of the bickering between the engines, “and I'm sure you simply didn't notice the extra weight." He said dryly as he uncoupled Tasha with a pen.

“I stopped at the first person I saw after the coaches told me,” Gordon blinked large innocent eyes at the Reverend as the coaches tittered behind him.

The Reverend shook his head as Tasha tiredly ran over onto a siding to rest beside the water tower, waving his hand for Gordon to resume the express.

“Well Little Tasha,” Gordon called as he pulled away, “now you know what hard work means, don't you?”

Tasha couldn't answer, she was still out of breath. She had a long rest before the Reverend signaled the line was clear for her to head back to the big station. She set out slowly, and was careful to never cross Gordon again.

Book Three: Jasmine the Red Engine

Jasmine and the Express

Jasmine and the Express

Gordon and Henry often spoke about bootlaces at night on the shelf. Jasmine would reply with stories of engines being stuck in tunnels or on hills, but they ignored her, and went on talking and laughing.

“You talk too much little Jasmine,” Gordon would say when the Reverend wasn't around to hear, “A fine strong model like me has something to talk about. I am the only one strong enough to pull the express. When I am not there, they need two engines to manage it. Think of that!” He chortled.

“Ignore him,” Edward rolled her eyes, “one would think he believed himself an actual A3 the way he boasts.”

***

Early one morning Jasmine, Edward, and Gordon were taken to an exhibition.

“Wake up little Jasmine,” Gordon said as she was put on the tracks. “It's nearly time for the show to start. What have they  got you doing today? Odd jobs? Ah well, we all have to start somewhere,  don't we? Would you run along and get my coaches, it would be bad form for the express to start late.”

Jasmine rolled her eyes but went to fetch the express coaches. They were freshly repainted, and gleamed under the exhibition lights. Jasmine carefully coupled up and pulled them to the platform.

“We're going for a run. We're going for a run,” the coaches sang happily.

“I wish I was going with you,” Jasmine sighed, “I would love to pull the express and go flying down the line.”

She left them at the platform and rolled out of the way into the yard beside the station to wait for her next job.

Gordon was lowered onto the track next to her. “Look at me now!” He puffed, shifting his wheels, “goodbye for now little Jasmine. I shall see you when I return,” and he rolled toward the platform.

Jasmine just sighed and went to arrange the next train.

But she didn't get far before the Reverend called her over to the platform.

She dutifully rolled back, to find Gordon stuck on the points.

“Hello Gordon,” she said innocently, “have you returned already?”

Gordon just sighed despondently.

The Reverend and Mr.Sand were poking at Gordon’s other side with a pen. 

“Your valve gear has come apart I'm afraid.” The Reverend said grimly, “I was concerned it was not up to task after your upgrades, but it has chosen a most inconvenient time to fail.”

He gently lifted Gordon from the layout, and Jasmine winced as she saw parts of his valve gear dangling.

“And now we have no one to pull the express.” Mr.Sand scratched his chin, “the exhibition starts any minute, and we need two engines now…”

The Reverend looked at Jasmine consideringly, “maybe we don't.”

Jasmine blinked, “me sir?” She asked in surprise.

“She’s only a mogul,” Mr.Sand said thoughtfully, "do you really think she can pull our express?”

“She has the same number of driving wheels as Gordon,” the Reverend pointed out, “and we're out of other options.” He turned to Jasmine, “Are you willing to pull the train?”

“I’ll try, Sir.”

“That's all I can ask,” he said with a smile as she backed down onto the train. “Do your best. If you can't pull it, it won't be the end of the world. We'll just have to find another engine to help you.”

The doors opened, letting the crowds in and the signal dropped. Jasmine dug in her wheels.

“Come-a-long. Come-a-long.” She puffed. Slowly, the train began to move.

“You're pulling us well! You're pulling us well!” The coaches sang as they picked up speed leaving the station yard.

Soon James got up to speed, and the station, bridges, and fields of the layout passed by in a blur.

Soon she reached the other end, panting happily. She had done it!

She was given time to rest before she was turned around on the turntable and ran around the train for the return trip. The station pilot helped her start the train this time and it was much easier.

“Well done Jasmine, well done indeed,” the Reverend said kindly as she pulled into the station. “Would you like to pull the Express regularly?”

“Yes Sir! Please Sir!”

“I'll have it arranged, then. Run along and have a rest before your next run.”

James found Gordon shunting in the yard, with the side missing his valve gear turned away from the crowds.

“Well done with the Express,” he said, hesitantly, but genuinely.

“Thank you, are you alright?” Jasmine asked concernedly.

“I will be fine.” He said gruffly, “the Reverend has arranged for one of the other club members to fashion me a better set of valve gear. One suited to my work.” He glanced at the trucks, "In the meantime I'm teaching these trucks manners.”

He gave them a bump, making them cry, “Oh! Oh! Oh!”

“I like the quiet work for a change,” he said dryly.

***

Gordon, Henry, and Jasmine are now better friends. They no longer bring up bootlaces and Jasmine takes the express to give Gordon a break, and covers for Henry when he's not feeling well. They are all quite agreed on the subject of trucks, much to the Reverend's exasperation, but he loves them all the same.

A/N: Hello Loves! Here is the end of Jasmine the Red Engine. I hope you all enjoyed. This is also the end for the Nowhere Model Railway Au for now. I was really struggling with the next book, and the momentum for the series has died off with each new release. When Screech reared her head again, well maybne we'll return to this Au one day, but for now, i love you all, and hope you enjoyed.

Dry Rails and Smooth Running,

Book One: The Three Model Engines

Edward and and Gordon

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The newest model engine the Reverend owned was named Gordon. He was a large and strong pacific of North Eastern design. He had been bought brand new from a model shop, and was quite proud of this.

“You did well at the exhibition Little Edward, but  watch as I race by with the express at the club tonight,” he boasted as they were boxed for the trip to the club, “now that will be a splendid sight for you.”

Edward simply nodded, as she was placed into her case. For all that Gordon was a good engine at heart, he had a prideful streak as long as his frames and it was often easiest to humor him.

The club's layout had been built in an old station building, purchased when services had been moved to a larger new station closer to the center of town. The layout was undergoing restoration, with only the mainline and its stations completed, so there was less to do at the moment, but Edward didn't mind. She was content shunting one of the smaller goods yards at the base of the hill. You see the club layout’s mainline climbed as it went, curving back upon itself in a long winding zig-zag path, allowing multiple levels of operation. Multiple stations, yards, and industries could be seen and managed simultaneously from a single spot, but this required long, steep, punishing grades, many of them on curves.

Banking was the rule here, with all but the express stopping for assistance unless the train was already double-heading. 

Normally there would have been a dedicated banker at the yard to help trains up the hill, but it had turned out to be a slow night, with many of the club members otherwise engaged, so Edward was serving as banker as well as yard pilot.

Edward soon had the yard back in proper order. She enjoyed playing with the trucks and vans, sneaking up behind them to give a pull or a push. As the model trucks were as wont to run an engine off the rails as the full sized ones, Edward felt it was only right to have her fun startling them.

The trucks would yelp, “Oh! Oh! Oh! What is happening?” as they ran into each other or were yanked backwards.

Soon enough the yard was the way she liked it once again, and the outgoing trains were all sorted. Edward ran over to the water tower for a rest. As a model engine she didn't need coal or water, but as the Reverend said, there was a proper way of doing things on a railway, and being a model did not excuse poor behavior.

Presently she heard an angry whistle. Gordon soon came into view, but he wasn't pulling the express, and he wasn’t moving with any measure of speed. He came running slowly and crossly through the station, grumbling crossly with a long line of weathered dirty coal trucks behind him

“A goods train! A goods train. A goods train!” He chuffed to himself, “The shame of it. The shame of it! The shame of it.”

The trucks behind him giggled and tittered as they passed. Clattering and banging as they went.

Edward glanced over to where the Reverend was managing the control panel once Gordon had passed. “He didn't stop for a banker.” She observed.

“Hmmm…so he didn’t.” The controller remarked, unbothered.

Edward shifted anxiously, “should I follow him up?”

The Reverend glanced toward where the coal train was climbing the grade with an unimpressed look, “he was the one who decided to complain rather than ask for help. If he stalls on the hill, he can just wait until someone has time to help him.” 

Edward nodded and went to sort out another train while she waited, she’d wondered how long it would take before Gordon's pride got him in trouble.

Soon enough three whistle blasts sounded from up the line, signaling Gordon had stalled. 

The Reverend sighed, “Come along my dear. As much as I'd like to leave him there to teach him a lesson, we can't block the mainline all night.”

“Coming sir,” Edward set off up the grade, as The Reverend walked over to the stuck train.

She found Gordon halfway up the grade and very cross. The Reverend and Mr. Robert were speaking to him severely, “you're not trying!”

“I can't do it.” Gordon replied moodily, “noisy, dirty trucks hold an engine back so. Now if they were coaches, clean, sensible things that come quietly, that would be different.”

“Peep peep.” Edward called, "I've come to push.”

“No use at all,” said Gordon, if I can't pull the train it will take more than Little Edward to get it up the hill.”

“Wait and see,” the Reverend said mildly.

They brought the train to the bottom of the grade to give them a clean start.

“Peep Peep!” Edward called as she buffered up to the brake van, “I'm ready.”

“Poop poop, no use” Gordon grumbled, but subsided under the Reverend's glare.

The signal dropped, and the train started, the two engines pulling and pushing as hard as they could.

“I can't do it. I can't do it. I can't do it.” Gordon groaned as they fought up the hill.

“We will do it. We will do it. We will do it.” Edward puffed back.

They reached a level section and the train accelerated towards the next climb.

“I can't do it. We will do it. I can't do it. We will do it. I can't do it. We will do it.” They puffed together.

Edward pushed and puffed with all her might and almost before they realized it Gordon crested the final summit.

“I've done it, hoorah! I've done it, hoorah! I've done it, hoorah!” Gordon cried proudly, and forgot all about Edward pushing behind. Without so much as a thank you, he raced ahead towards the bridge to the terminus before he could be checked.

Edward tried to keep up, but she was exhausted from pushing the heavy train and the new pacific quickly left her behind. She came to a stop at the first station on the level, resting under the water tower.

Book One: The Three Model Engines

Henry's Second Chance

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Edward and Gordon often went past the station where Henry was plinthed during shows. Edward would call out in greeting,“Peep peep! Hello!” As she ran past, and would talk to Henry when she stopped at the station. 

Gordon was less kind, “Poop poop! Serves you right!” He would snort as he ran by.

Henry had no strength left to answer, the power within his mechanisms having faded in the weeks since he was plinthed. Dust had settled onto him and spoilt his beloved paint.

He was weak and unhappy, and wished to pull trains again.

It was another exhibition day, and as had become normal, Gordon was hauling the express. He was the only model strong enough to pull a prototypical express, and quite proud of this fact.

There were many coaches in the train, from mail coaches, to restaurant cars, to the observation coach at the end. They were kitbuilt and heavy, and even Gordon could only pull them all due to improvements made by the Reverend. 

Gordon was seeing how fast he could go with them down the mainline, “Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!” He called, laughing with his speed as he approached the Reverend's section of layout, which had been placed in the middle of the club's sections rather than the end.

The coaches were singing happily with their speed, “trickety-trock, trickety-trock, trickety-trock.”

Gordon could see the station where Henry was plinthed in the distance.

‘In a minute,’ he thought, ‘I'll poop, poop, poop at Henry as I race past.’

Closer and closer he raced, he was almost there when,

CRACK

There was a grinding of gears and Gordon found himself going slower and slower. The Reverend quickly stopped the train.

“What happened,” Gordon asked, “I feel so weak.”

The Reverend gently lifted Gordon and inspected him for a long moment. 

“You've snapped a gear,” he finally said, “you won't be pulling any more trains today.”

“Oh dear,” Gordon said mournfully, “and we were going so well too…look at Henry laughing at me.” He made a face at Henry, who merely continued to chuckle at the pacific’s expense.

The Reverend snorted in amusement, “perhaps if you had been kinder to him about his punishment he would have been kinder in return.” He set Gordon gently down on the table with a sigh, “I don't know what I was thinking with all these big engines, something always seems to be going wrong with them.”

Gordon couldn’t help the embarrassed blush that formed on his face as he noticed the number of children who were watching, drawn in by the commotion.

The Reverend glanced over and realized Edward was the only unoccupied engine.

“I suppose she'll have to try to pull the train.”

Gordon and Edward shared concerned, skeptical looks.

“Thats no use,” Gordon said as she pulled up to the train, although not unkindly. He watched for a moment as Edward’s wheel spun helplessly. “She's got no chance on her own. Why not let Henry try?”

“Yes,” the Reverend said thoughtfully, “I will.”

He turned to the plinthed engine, “Would you help pull this train, Henry?”

“Yes sir, please sir!” Henry said, not quite believing his luck.

Henry was lifted from the plinth, blown clean, and his moving parts oiled before he was set back down on the track with care.

“Ooh! I'm so stiff! Ooh! I'm so stiff!” Henry groaned as power flowed through him once more, and he moved for the first time in weeks.

“Have a run to ease your joints,” the Reverend said kindly, “run up to the next turntable and get turned around.”

Henry felt much better by the time he returned and backed down onto the train.

“Peep peep! I'm ready!” Called Edward.

“Peep peep peep, so am I!” said Henry.

They dug their wheels in and pulled, the train slowly starting into motion.

“Pull hard! Pull hard! Pull hard!” Puffed Edward.

“We'll do it! We'll do it! We'll do it!” Henry chanted.

“Pull hard, we'll do it! Pull hard, we'll do it! Pull hard we'll do it!,” They puffed together as the train slowly picked up speed as they raced down the line.

“You've done it, hurray! You’ve done it, hurray! You've done it, hurray!” The coaches sang happily as they reached speed, many of the watching children joining in.

“We’ve done it together! We've done it together! We’ve done it together!” sang Edward and Henry.

The rest of the day was spent running up and down the layout, whistling to the children walking past. Henry enjoyed himself immensely, but was glad when the show ended. His wheels and gears ached from the long runs, but he was still smiling tiredly.

“Well done, both of you.” The Reverend said warmly as he gently lifted them off the rails and placed them in their boxes. “I managed to buy a replacement gear for Gordon so he'll be fixed in the morning, but before that, Henry, you have earned a new coat of paint.”

“Oh thank you sir!”

“Would you like Blue with Red stripes?”

“Yes sir, then I'll be like the others.”

The ride home was quiet, and as promised, the Reverend pulled out his paints when they got home. Henry was very pleased with his new coat of paint, as all models are, but he doesn't complain about getting his paint spoiled anymore…well no more than any other engine. After all, he knows the Reverend will clean him if asked when the day is over.

Book Two: Tasha the Model Engine

Tasha and the Runaway

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The next few weeks were relatively quiet for the Reverend's fleet. The Reverend added extra weights to Tasha's tanks, allowing her to pull heavier trains, and keep better control of any trucks. She was given more trains and slowly grew more confident as she gained experience.

She noticed a lot of her trains went back from the main station at the top onto the new blank baseboard beyond.

“We're building a new branchline extension,” the Reverend explained one night as she shunted the yard, “we never used the old station seating along the outer wall, so we might as well use the space for something useful.”

“The trains going there are supposed to represent us bringing supplies to build the line,” Tasha guessed.

“But of course” the Reverend nodded seriously, “that's half the fun of it.”

Weeks passed, and the new line progressed. Tasha often found herself taking small trains to the other stations on the layout, spending the rest of the night shunting whatever station she ended up at.

One night Tasha found herself at the first station on the second level, shunting the small yard. It had been a quiet night. The Reverend had stepped out for some fresh air, and all the club members were either managing the bigger stations or checking out the Reverend's newest engine. The Reverend had found an 0-6-0 of LMS styling named Jasmine at a second hand store earlier that day, and was running them in. Tasha hadn't properly met them, but didn't mind the quiet night at a different station.

She was just heading towards the water tower for a rest when the sound of frantic whistling reached her.

“Help! Help! Help!” 

Tasha looked up to see a good’s train racing towards her in the distance with the new engine in front. The engine was clearly frightened, sparks flying from her wheels as she tried to slow the train.

“They're pushing me! They're pushing me!” Jasmine cried.

“On! On! On!” Laughed the trucks.

‘They're going far too fast to make it around the curve,’ Tasha realized none of the club members would reach them in time, ‘they’ll be thrown from the curve and dashed against the floor.’ 

Not if Tasha could help it

Tasha rolled forward, forcing the points on the mainline open. The train bore down on her, but Tasha set her wheels and braced herself.

CRASH

The train slammed into Tasha, but she held firm, her wheels screeching along the rails. They entered the curve, still too fast as they entered the sharpest part of the curve. Tasha could feel the train slowing, but she could also feel herself tilting over. She closed her eyes, steeling herself for the long fall, hoping she'd slowed Jasmine enough that they wouldn't follow…

“Gotcha!!” a strong hand snapped around her from behind and lifted her, startling her into opening her eyes, revealing the Reverend had caught both her and Jasmine before they could fall. The trucks hadn't been so lucky, and many of them had dashed themselves to bits upon the floor.

“Are you two alright,” he asked as he gently set them down on the layout. Tasha nodded shakily, noting a pale Jasmine doing the same in front of her.

“Good.” He sighed with relief, then turned to stare down the other club members.

“Would anyone like to explain,” he asked as icily as Tasha had ever heard him, “why I came back, after mere minutes, to find two of my engines about to fall from the layout?”

As one of the club members sheepishly explained they'd accidentally given James the weighted trucks instead of the empty ones meant for lighter engines, the Reverend lifted and looked them both over one by one.

When he was finished, he turned to look at the few trucks that remained intact, “I have half a mind to turn you into scenery bits.” He said with a rare glare. The remaining trucks suddenly wondered if their brethren in bits had got the better end of the deal.

“I'm sorry sir…” Jasmine began, but was hushed with a gentle pat on the cab by the Reverend.

“Never you mind Jasmine,” he said kindly, “It wasn't your fault. You haven't been given proper weight yet. And the others should have known better than to give you those wagons on your first night.”

Sheepish agreements could be heard from the other club members.

“Now, let's get this mess sorted.”

Tasha was placed back on the rails proper and took away the undamaged trucks as the Reverend inspected them one by one.

“Oh dear, oh dear.” The trucks groaned.

“Serves you right! Serves you right!” Tasha replied crossly.

Eventually all the intact trucks had been shunted away. The broken and shattered trucks were left beside the line in a pile, as the club members installed a board along the edge of the layout, so there would be no more trains falling to the floor.

All the club members agreed it had been enough excitement for one night and began to pack their engines and rolling stock up to go home.

“I’m very proud of you Tasha,” the Reverend said as he laid her into her case, “you saved Jasmine from a very nasty accident, I would not have reached her in time if you had not slowed the train. She’ll be getting proper weights and a new coat of paint when we get home tonight…and perhaps a pony truck wouldn't be amiss…” he mused. “But I've spoken with the lads and they've all agreed. When the new branchline is finished, it shall be yours.”

“Oh, Sir!” Tasha exclaimed happily.

Now Tasha is as content as a model engine can be. She has her own branchline at the club and spends her nights there cheerfully running up and down it. The Reverend bought and restored too old scratchbuilt coaches named Annie and Clarabel for use on the branchline, and Tasha adores them, puffing up and down her line with them all night.

She's never lonely, as she sees the other club member’s engines at the big station at the end of her line. Edward and Henry often stop to tell her the news from any engine that doesn't make it to the upper station. Gordon is often in too much of a hurry to talk with her during club nights, but always whistles ‘Poop Poop” to her as he arrives or departs the station, and she always whistles “Peep Peep!” In reply.