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The moment 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 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 party weekend ahead, we conversed constantly as we traveled by train from York.

We placed our luggage – packed with necessities such as wine bottles and my new pair of black clogs – in the storage compartment and settled down in a snug pair of seats. Approximately 50 minutes after starting our journey, I was faintly cognizant of a bang. Then came another, this time impossible to ignore. Someone cried out as our carriage was lifted off the tracks in what felt like a delayed sequence. All at once, Helen and I were upright in the middle of the aisle, hugging each other. With my head lowered, vision blocked, I waited for the carriage to overturn and ignite, similar to cinematic scenes. I recall pondering our relatives and companions getting the news. That's when the sound of the young girl weeping.

“You’re all right,” I whispered, my tone was hoarse. “It’s all over,” I whispered, mostly for my own benefit.

She appeared to be seven or eight, and seemed to be entirely alone. Her crying shook me out of my trance; now I could do something meaningful. I went to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Avoid looking back,” Helen called out, but it was already too late. I caught sight of a man whose face was bloody. A huge metal object had smashed through the window behind us. Subsequently, we found out a uncontrolled excavator had rolled down the hill and smashed into our carriage, leading to the derailment.

Our car was lodged with its front end in the air. Following that came of sirens and a man nearby requested that I to pass the little girl to him so he could help her out the window, as kids were being rescued to fire crews on standby. Shortly after, Helen and I were also climbing out of the train window and descending via a ladder down to the rails.

Once back on solid ground – adjacent to a storage building in Pudsey – I began trembling violently. My eyes scanned for the little girl and saw her being scooped up by her mum, we later learned had been in the lavatory when the crash occurred. A firefighter kindly retrieved my clogs. A fellow passenger sat down heavily on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – but, by good fortune our wine remained intact. After a half-hour wait, we traveled in a complimentary taxi to Blackburn, with a teenage boy and the lady who had damaged the suitcase. Our university friend greeted us, ashen-faced. She had heard there had been a derailment and a staff member had led her away and offered her a hot drink while she waited for news.

Bolstered by youthful resilience, we pushed the derailment from our minds and carried on with our night out, which involved a memorable turn by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. No one died in the incident, even though several people required hospital treatment. Helen and I sustained only bruises and general soreness from the violent forward motion in the carriage. The locomotive was decelerating to approach Leeds station, which had been the primary reason in preventing major harm. Given that nobody was badly hurt made it easier not to focus on the “what ifs” but the child was the one who made a permanent impression. Taking care of her and soothing her helped take my mind off myself and showed me the importance of directing attention externally in a crisis. Over the years, I have often wondered if she recalled any details, and how big a deal it had been for her.

Helen and I have remained friends for over 30 years and That location's name now symbolizes for our ability to cope any situation, as long as we're side by side. Having her companionship during the accident made it feel as if I was insulated from the worst of the situation. The crash also changed my method of handling various difficult situations, offering me a new viewpoint – and reminding me that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it is always a privilege to grow older.