A Moment That Changed My Life: My Train Derailed – and subsequently I Overheard a Young Girl Weeping.

The moment I knew my life was in danger came a couple of years into my 20s, when life was really just starting out. My dearest friend, Helen, and I were headed to Blackburn to reunite with a former classmate who had just relocated there for work. Thrilled to see each other, and enjoying the thought of the party weekend ahead, we talked incessantly as we traveled by train from York.

We put our suitcases – containing vital items such as wine bottles and my brand-new black clogs – in the storage compartment and made ourselves comfortable in a cosy two-seater. Approximately 50 minutes after starting our journey, I was faintly cognizant of a bang. Another one sounded, which could not be dismissed. A woman screamed as our carriage was lifted off the tracks in what felt like a delayed sequence. Suddenly, Helen and I were upright in the middle of the aisle, holding each other tight. Looking down, vision blocked, I waited for the carriage to overturn and ignite, like in the movies. I recall pondering our relatives and companions receiving the notification. That's when the sound of the little girl crying.

“You’re all right,” I murmured, my tone was hoarse. “The worst has passed,” I whispered, primarily to calm my own nerves.

Her age was roughly seven or eight, and looked like she had no guardian. Her crying shook me out of my trance; this was my opportunity to be useful. I made my way to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Avoid looking back,” Helen shouted, too late. I glimpsed a man whose face was bloody. A huge metal object had smashed through the window behind us. Afterward, we learned a runaway digger had tumbled down the embankment and smashed into our carriage, making the train leave the tracks.

Our carriage was stuck with its nose pointing upward. Following that came of sirens and a fellow passenger instructed me to hand the child over so he could pass her through the window, while young passengers were extracted to waiting firefighters. Not long afterward, Helen and I were also climbing out of the train window and scaling a ladder down down to the rails.

Standing on firm land again – next to a goods shed in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. I looked for the little girl and saw her being scooped up by her mum, as it transpired had been using the restroom at the time of the accident. A firefighter kindly retrieved my clogs. Another traveler collapsed on Helen’s case, causing it to burst open – but, by good fortune our wine remained intact. After a half-hour wait, we proceeded in a provided car to Blackburn, accompanied by a young man and the woman who had caused the luggage to burst. Our host was there, visibly shaken. She was aware there had been a derailment and a staff member had led her away and prepared some tea for her while she anticipated updates.

With the invincibility of youth, we put the train crash to one side and proceeded with the social outing, which included a unforgettable performance by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. Not a single life was lost in the incident, even though several people were transported to the hospital. Helen and I escaped with bruises and general soreness from the force of the sudden jolt in the carriage. The locomotive was decelerating to approach Leeds station, which had been the primary reason in preventing major harm. The fact that nobody was badly hurt helped not to focus on the “what ifs” but it was the little girl who left a lasting impact on me. Taking care of her and soothing her distracted me from my own fear and taught me the value of looking outwards in a crisis. In the decades since, I have frequently pondered if she had any memory of the event, and how significant it had been for her.

Helen and I have stayed close for over 30 years and Pudsey has become shorthand for our skill in managing any situation, so long as we are together. Having her companionship during the accident gave me the impression I was shielded against the worst of the situation. The derailment further transformed my method of handling other types of crises, giving me perspective – and reminding me that, however bad things seem, it remains a gift to grow older.