An Event That Changed Me: The Train I Was On Crashed – and subsequently There Was a Child Sobbing.

T it dawned on me my life was in danger came a couple of years into my 20s, at a time when everything was beginning. My closest companion, Helen, and I were traveling to Blackburn to reunite with an old university friend who had made a new home there for work. Thrilled to see each other, and basking in the prospect of the party weekend ahead, we talked incessantly as we journeyed by train from York.

We stashed our bags – full of essentials such as our favorite wines and the clogs I had just bought – on the overhead rack and got seated in a cosy two-seater. Approximately 50 minutes after starting our journey, I was faintly cognizant of a bang. Then came another, now unmistakable. Someone cried out as our carriage was lifted off the tracks in what felt like a delayed sequence. Suddenly, Helen and I were standing up in the middle of the aisle, holding each other tight. Head down, eyes screwed shut, I anticipated the carriage to roll over and burst into flames, as I’d seen in films. I remember thinking our loved ones hearing the tragic update. That's when the sound of the child sobbing.

“It's going to be fine,” I murmured, speaking with a rasp. “The worst has passed,” I stated, mostly for my own benefit.

Her age was roughly seven or eight, and seemed to be entirely alone. Her sobbing snapped me back to reality; this was my opportunity to be useful. I made my way to where she was standing and wrapped an arm around her. “Don't turn around,” Helen shouted, but it was already too late. I caught sight of a man with his face covered in blood. A huge metal object had smashed through the window behind us. Afterward, we discovered a driverless construction vehicle had descended the slope and collided with the train, causing us to derail.

Our compartment was trapped with its front end in the air. Next was the sound of sirens and a man nearby asked me to give the girl to him so he could help her out 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 onto the railway line.

Standing on firm land again – adjacent to a storage building in Pudsey – I began trembling violently. I searched for the little girl and saw her being scooped up by her mum, we later learned had been in the toilet during the incident. An emergency worker helpfully fetched my clogs. Another traveler sat down heavily on Helen’s case, causing it to burst open – though luckily our wine stayed unbroken. Once we had waited for thirty minutes, we proceeded in a provided car to Blackburn, with a teenage boy and the female passenger who had damaged the suitcase. Our university friend greeted us, ashen-faced. She was aware there had been a derailment and a railway official had escorted her to an office and made her a cup of tea while she anticipated updates.

Displaying the fearlessness of young adulthood, we set the accident aside and continued with our evening plans, which included a memorable turn by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. Not a single life was lost in the incident, despite the fact that several people were transported to the hospital. Helen and I escaped with bruises and soreness and discomfort from the force of the sudden jolt in the carriage. The train had been slowing to approach Leeds station, which had been the key factor in avoiding serious injury. Given that nobody was badly hurt helped not to dwell on the “what ifs” but it was the little girl who left a lasting impact on me. Attending to her and soothing her distracted me from my own fear and demonstrated the importance of looking outwards in a crisis. Over the years, I have repeatedly asked myself if she remembered anything about it, and what a major event it had been for her.

Helen and I have remained friends for over 30 years and Pudsey has become shorthand for our skill in managing with anything, so long as we are together. Her presence that fateful day gave me the impression I was insulated from the full horror of the event. The crash also changed my method of handling different emergencies, offering me a new viewpoint – and serving as a reminder that, however bad things seem, it remains a gift to grow older.