An Event That Transformed My Life: The Train I Was On Was in an Accident – and then I Heard a Child Crying.

T it dawned on me my life was in danger came a couple of years into my 20s, as my adult life was unfolding. My closest companion, Helen, and I were headed to Blackburn to reunite with a friend from college who had just relocated there for work. Overjoyed at the reunion, and enjoying the thought of the upcoming weekend of fun, we chatted nonstop as we journeyed by train from York.

We put our suitcases – full of essentials such as bottles of wine and my new pair of black clogs – on the overhead rack and made ourselves comfortable in a snug pair of seats. Approximately 50 minutes after starting our journey, I was faintly cognizant of a bang. Another one sounded, which could not be dismissed. A female passenger shrieked as our carriage was thrown up into the air in what felt like a delayed sequence. All at once, Helen and I were somehow on our feet in the middle of the aisle, hugging each other. Head down, eyes screwed shut, I waited for the carriage to overturn and ignite, as I’d seen in films. I recall pondering our loved ones receiving the notification. Then I heard the child sobbing.

“Everything is okay,” I murmured, speaking with a rasp. “The worst has passed,” I stated, primarily to calm my own nerves.

Her age was roughly seven or eight, and appeared to be completely on her own. Her weeping jolted me from my stupor; this was my opportunity to be useful. I went to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Don’t look round,” Helen called out, but it was already too late. I saw a man with his face covered in blood. A huge metal object had penetrated the window behind us. Subsequently, we found out a driverless construction vehicle had rolled down the hill and collided with the train, causing us to derail.

Our compartment was trapped with its leading section elevated. Next was the sound of sirens and another traveler instructed me to hand the child over so he could help her out the window, where children were being evacuated to fire crews on standby. Not long afterward, Helen and I were likewise scrambling out of the train window and climbing down a ladder down to the rails.

Back on terra firma – beside a freight warehouse in Pudsey – uncontrollable shivers took over. I looked for the little girl and saw her being scooped up by her mum, as it transpired had been in the lavatory when the crash occurred. A rescuer graciously recovered my clogs. One of the passengers plonked down on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – though luckily our wine stayed unbroken. After a half-hour wait, we made our way in a free cab to Blackburn, with a teenage boy and the woman who had broken Helen’s case. Our friend was waiting, visibly shaken. She knew there had been a derailment and a railway official had escorted her to an office and prepared some tea for her while she anticipated updates.

With the invincibility of youth, we pushed the derailment from our minds and continued with our evening plans, which featured a memorable turn by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. No one died in the incident, even though several people were taken to hospital. Helen and I got away with bruises and aches and pains from the force of the sudden jolt in the carriage. Our speed had been decreasing to approach Leeds station, which had been the key factor in averting grave physical damage. Since nobody was badly hurt allowed us not to obsess over the “what ifs” but it was the little girl who left a lasting impact on me. Looking after her and reassuring her shifted my focus outward and taught me the importance of focusing on others in a crisis. Over the years, I have repeatedly asked myself if she remembered anything about it, and how significant it had been for her.

Helen and I have stayed close for more than three decades and Pudsey has become shorthand for our capacity to handle whatever comes, provided we have each other. Her presence that fateful day made it feel as if I was protected from the worst of the situation. The accident additionally altered my method of handling other types of crises, offering me a new viewpoint – and reminding me that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it remains a gift to grow older.