An Event That Changed Me: The Train I Was On Crashed – and afterward I Heard a Little Girl Crying.

The moment I knew the end was near occurred in my 20s, at a time when everything was beginning. My dearest friend, Helen, and I were traveling to Blackburn to reunite with an old university friend who had made a new home there for work. Delighted to be together, and enjoying the thought of the upcoming weekend of fun, we conversed constantly as we made our way by train from York.

We put our suitcases – containing vital items such as bottles of wine and the clogs I had just bought – in the storage compartment and made ourselves comfortable in a snug pair of seats. Approximately 50 minutes after starting our journey, I was dimly aware of a bang. Another one sounded, this time impossible to ignore. A woman screamed as our carriage was lifted off the tracks in what felt like a delayed sequence. In an instant, Helen and I were upright in the middle of the aisle, hugging each other. Head down, vision blocked, I waited for the carriage to overturn and ignite, similar to cinematic scenes. I remember thinking our families and friends receiving the notification. Then I heard the little girl crying.

“It's going to be fine,” I said softly, my tone was hoarse. “The worst has passed,” I whispered, more to myself than her.

She was about seven or eight years old, and looked like she had no guardian. Her crying shook me out of my trance; here was my chance to help. I made my way to where she was standing and put my arm around her. “Don’t look round,” 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 penetrated the window behind us. Subsequently, we discovered a runaway digger had rolled down the hill and into the side of the train, leading to the derailment.

Our car was lodged with its nose pointing upward. Then came the noise of sirens and another traveler instructed me to pass the little girl to him so he could assist her exit through the opening, where children were being evacuated to emergency personnel below. Shortly after, Helen and I were likewise scrambling out of the train window and scaling a ladder down down to the rails.

Back on terra firma – adjacent to a storage building in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. My eyes scanned for the little girl and saw her being scooped up by her mum, we later learned had been in the lavatory during the incident. A rescuer graciously recovered my clogs. Another traveler sat down heavily on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – but, by good fortune our wine was unharmed. Once we had waited for thirty minutes, we made our way in a free cab to Blackburn, with a teenage boy and the woman who had damaged the suitcase. Our friend was waiting, pale with worry. She knew there had been a derailment and a staff member had led her away and made her a cup of tea while she hoped for information.

Bolstered by youthful resilience, we put the train crash to one side and carried on with our night out, which included a memorable turn by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. There were no fatalities in the incident, even though several people were taken to hospital. Helen and I sustained only bruises and soreness and discomfort from the impact of being thrown forward in the carriage. Our speed had been decreasing to come into Leeds station, which had been the key factor in avoiding serious injury. Given that nobody was badly hurt helped not to focus on the “what ifs” but that young girl who made a permanent impression. Taking care of her and calming her down helped take my mind off myself and taught me the value of directing attention externally in a crisis. As time passed, 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 more than three decades and That location's name now symbolizes for our skill in managing any situation, provided we have each other. Her presence that fateful day made it feel as if I was insulated from the most terrifying aspects. 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 age.