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T I realized my life was in danger came a couple of years into my 20s, at a time when everything was beginning. My dearest friend, Helen, and I were on our way to Blackburn to catch up with an old university friend who had recently moved there for work. Thrilled to see each other, and reveling in the anticipation of the party weekend ahead, we talked incessantly as we made our way by train from York.

We placed our luggage – full of essentials such as bottles of wine and the clogs I had just bought – on the overhead rack and made ourselves comfortable in a comfortable double seat. About 50 minutes into our journey, I was dimly aware of a bang. Then came another, which could not be dismissed. A woman screamed as our carriage catapulted upward in what felt like a dreamlike pace. In an instant, Helen and I were upright in the middle of the aisle, clinging to one another. Looking down, eyelids tightly closed, I anticipated the carriage to flip and explode, as I’d seen in films. I remember thinking our relatives and companions hearing the tragic update. That's when the sound of the little girl crying.

“You’re all right,” I said softly, my tone was hoarse. “The worst has passed,” I murmured, more to myself than her.

She appeared to be seven or eight, and appeared to be completely on her own. Her sobbing snapped me back to reality; this was my opportunity to be useful. I moved 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 glimpsed a man with blood all over his face. An enormous piece of metal had smashed through the window behind us. Later, we discovered a uncontrolled excavator had descended the slope and collided with the train, causing us to derail.

Our carriage was stuck with its nose pointing upward. Then came the noise of sirens and a man nearby requested that I to hand the child over so he could help her out the window, while young passengers were extracted to fire crews on standby. Not long afterward, Helen and I were likewise scrambling out of the train window and descending via a ladder onto the railway line.

Standing on firm land again – next to a goods shed in Pudsey – uncontrollable shivers took over. My eyes scanned 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. An emergency worker helpfully fetched my clogs. A fellow passenger sat down heavily on Helen’s case, causing it to burst open – but, by good fortune our wine was unharmed. After a half-hour wait, we made our way in a provided car to Blackburn, alongside an adolescent and the female passenger who had caused the luggage to burst. Our friend was waiting, pale with worry. She had heard 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 pushed the derailment from our minds and continued with our evening plans, which involved 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 sustained only 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 key factor in avoiding serious injury. Given that nobody was badly hurt allowed us not to obsess over the “what ifs” but that young girl who left a lasting impact on me. Taking care of her and reassuring her distracted me from my own fear and showed me the importance of looking outwards in a crisis. As time passed, I have often wondered if she remembered anything about it, and what a major event it had been for her.

Helen and I have remained friends for more than three decades and That location's name now symbolizes for our capacity to handle with anything, as long as we're side by side. Being with her that day gave me the impression I was protected from the full horror of the event. The accident additionally altered my method of handling different emergencies, offering me a new viewpoint – and serving as a reminder that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it remains a gift to age.