A Moment That Transformed My Life: The Train I Was On Derailed – and subsequently I Heard a Young Girl Crying.

T I knew my life was in danger occurred in my 20s, at a time when everything was beginning. My dearest friend, Helen, and I were traveling to Blackburn to visit an old university friend who had made a new home there for work. Thrilled to see each other, and enjoying the thought of the social gathering to come, we chatted nonstop as we made our way by train from York.

We placed our luggage – packed with necessities such as bottles of wine and the clogs I had just bought – above our heads and settled down in a snug pair of seats. About 50 minutes into our journey, I was faintly cognizant of a bang. This was followed by a second, now unmistakable. Someone cried out as our carriage was lifted off the tracks in what felt like a dreamlike pace. In an instant, Helen and I were somehow on our feet in the middle of the aisle, hugging each other. With my head lowered, eyes screwed shut, I anticipated the carriage to overturn and ignite, like in the movies. I recall pondering our families and friends getting the news. That's when the sound of the young girl weeping.

“Everything is okay,” I said softly, speaking with a rasp. “The worst has passed,” I whispered, more to myself than her.

Her age was roughly seven or eight, and appeared to be completely on her own. Her sobbing snapped me back to reality; here was my chance to help. I moved to where she was standing and wrapped an arm around her. “Don’t look round,” Helen called out, but it was already too late. I glimpsed a man whose face was bloody. A large metallic item had crashed through the window behind us. Subsequently, we discovered a runaway digger had tumbled down the embankment and collided with the train, leading to the derailment.

Our carriage was stuck with its leading section elevated. Then came the noise of sirens and another traveler instructed me to give the girl to him so he could assist her exit through the opening, as kids were being rescued to waiting firefighters. Not long afterward, Helen and I were also climbing out of the train window and climbing down a ladder down to the rails.

Once back on solid ground – next to a goods shed in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. I searched for the little girl and watched her mother gather her up, we later learned had been in the toilet when the crash occurred. A rescuer graciously recovered my clogs. Another traveler plonked down on Helen’s case, causing it to burst open – but, by good fortune our wine stayed unbroken. Following a 30-minute delay, we proceeded in a provided car to Blackburn, alongside an adolescent and the lady who had broken Helen’s case. Our host was there, pale with worry. She had heard there had been a derailment and a guard had taken her into his office and prepared some tea for her while she waited for news.

Bolstered by youthful resilience, we put the train crash to one side and continued with our evening plans, which involved a notable act by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. Not a single life was lost in the incident, even though several people were taken to hospital. Helen and I got away with bruises and aches and pains from the impact of being thrown forward in the carriage. The train had been slowing to enter Leeds station, which had been the primary reason in averting grave physical damage. The fact that nobody was badly hurt made it easier not to obsess over the “what ifs” but the child was the one who made a permanent impression. Taking care of her and reassuring her shifted my focus outward and demonstrated the value of looking outwards in a crisis. In the decades since, I have often wondered if she recalled any details, and what a major event it had been for her.

Helen and I have stayed close for over 30 years and "Pudsey" is now our code word for our skill in managing with anything, as long as we're side by side. Her presence that fateful day created the sensation that I was shielded against the most terrifying aspects. The accident additionally altered my method of handling other types of crises, offering me a new viewpoint – and serving as a reminder that, however bad things seem, it is always a privilege to grow older.