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T I knew the end was near arrived during my 20s, when life was really just starting out. My dearest friend, Helen, and I were traveling to Blackburn to catch up with a former classmate who had just relocated there for work. Thrilled to see each other, and reveling in the anticipation of the upcoming weekend of fun, we conversed constantly as we traveled by train from York.

We placed our luggage – packed with necessities such as our favorite wines 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 dimly aware of a bang. Another one sounded, now unmistakable. A female passenger shrieked as our carriage catapulted upward in what felt like a dreamlike pace. In an instant, Helen and I were somehow on our feet in the middle of the aisle, clinging to one another. Looking down, vision blocked, I waited for the carriage to roll over and burst into flames, similar to cinematic scenes. I remember thinking our families and friends receiving the notification. That's when the sound of the young girl weeping.

“It's going to be fine,” I said softly, my tone was hoarse. “It’s all over,” I stated, primarily to calm my own nerves.

Her age was roughly seven or eight, and appeared to be completely on her own. Her crying shook me out of my trance; now I could do something meaningful. I made my way to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Don't turn around,” Helen yelled, but it was already too late. I glimpsed a man with his face covered in blood. A huge metal object had crashed through the window behind us. Later, we found out a uncontrolled excavator had rolled down the hill and smashed into our carriage, causing us to derail.

Our carriage was stuck with its leading section elevated. Next was the sound of sirens and another traveler instructed me to give the girl to him so he could pass her through the window, where children were being evacuated to emergency personnel below. Not long afterward, Helen and I were similarly exiting of the train window and descending via a ladder down to the rails.

Back on terra firma – adjacent to a storage building 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 during the incident. An emergency worker helpfully fetched my clogs. One of the passengers collapsed on Helen’s case, causing it to burst open – however, fortunately our wine remained intact. Following a 30-minute delay, we proceeded in a provided car to Blackburn, alongside an adolescent and the lady who had caused the luggage to burst. Our friend was waiting, visibly shaken. She was aware there had been a derailment and a staff member had led her away and made her a cup of tea while she anticipated updates.

Displaying the fearlessness of young adulthood, we pushed the derailment from our minds and proceeded with the social outing, which featured 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 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 avoiding serious injury. Since nobody was badly hurt helped not to obsess over the “what ifs” but that young girl who changed my outlook profoundly. Taking care of her and calming her down helped take my mind off myself and showed me the value of directing attention externally in a crisis. Over the years, I have repeatedly asked myself if she had any memory of the event, and how big a deal it had been for her.

Helen and I have remained friends for over 30 years and "Pudsey" is now our code word for our ability to cope with anything, as long as we're side by side. Her presence that fateful day created the sensation that I was insulated from the most terrifying aspects. The derailment further transformed my perspective on different emergencies, providing me with insight – and serving as a reminder that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it is always a privilege to grow older.