We had been travelling for oh so long now, but we had come so close to our goal that our current situation made our hearts freeze over with sadness. We were in a railway yard, easily hidden behind a row of trucks, and all around us were the dark shapes of diesels as they growled menacingly around the yard. At least we were well hidden. In my cab, my driver and fireman were sat together, not speaking, but praying. Praying for a miracle that we never thought would come. My coach, Isabel, was sniffing quietly. I tried to comfort her, lest her weeping give away our position, but I could hardly comfort her when I myself needed comforting. Behind her, my reliable old brakevan Toad, was standing perfectly still, but I knew he was scared, nay, terrified at the prospect of being scrapped. Werent we all?
We had come up from our old line in England, somewhere in the West Country. My driver and fireman had learned our line was to be closed and we were to be scrapped. But we escape