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T it dawned on me I was about to die came a couple of years into my 20s, at a time when everything was beginning. My closest companion, 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 party weekend ahead, we chatted nonstop as we traveled by train from York.

We put our suitcases – packed with necessities such as wine bottles and the clogs I had just bought – in the storage compartment and settled down in a cosy two-seater. About 50 minutes into our journey, I was dimly aware of a bang. Another one sounded, which could not be dismissed. A female passenger shrieked as our carriage catapulted upward in what felt like slow motion. All at once, Helen and I were standing up in the middle of the aisle, hugging each other. Looking down, eyelids tightly closed, I expected the carriage to overturn and ignite, similar to cinematic scenes. I recall pondering our families and friends receiving the notification. Subsequently, there was the child sobbing.

“You’re all right,” I said softly, my voice sounding croaky. “The worst has passed,” I whispered, more to myself than her.

She was about seven or eight years old, and appeared to be completely on her own. Her weeping jolted me from my stupor; now I could do something meaningful. I went to where she was standing and put my arm around her. “Don't turn around,” Helen called out, but it was already too late. I caught sight of a man with his face covered in blood. A large metallic item had penetrated the window behind us. Later, we discovered a driverless construction vehicle had tumbled down the embankment and collided with the train, making the train leave the tracks.

Our carriage was stuck with its front end in the air. Then came the noise of sirens and a fellow passenger requested that I to give the girl to him so he could assist her exit through the opening, while young passengers were extracted to fire crews on standby. Shortly after, Helen and I were likewise scrambling out of the train window and climbing down a ladder onto the railway line.

Standing on firm land again – adjacent to a storage building in Pudsey – uncontrollable shivers took over. I looked for the little girl and observed her being embraced by her mother, we later learned had been in the toilet when the crash occurred. A firefighter kindly retrieved my clogs. Another traveler plonked down on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – though luckily our wine was unharmed. Following a 30-minute delay, we proceeded in a free cab to Blackburn, accompanied by a young man and the female passenger 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 offered her a hot drink while she hoped for information.

With the invincibility of youth, we pushed the derailment from our minds and continued with our evening plans, which involved a unforgettable performance by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. There were no fatalities in the incident, although several people were taken to hospital. Helen and I got away with bruises and soreness and discomfort from the impact of being thrown forward in the carriage. The train had been slowing to come into Leeds station, which had been the key factor in preventing major harm. Since nobody was badly hurt helped not to dwell on the “what ifs” but the child was the one who made a permanent impression. Attending to her and soothing her distracted me from my own fear and demonstrated the importance of directing attention externally in a crisis. As time passed, I have repeatedly asked myself if she remembered anything about it, and what a major event it had been for her.

Helen and I have stayed close for thirty-plus years and That location's name now symbolizes for our ability to cope whatever comes, as long as we're side by side. Having her companionship during the accident created the sensation that I was insulated from the worst of the situation. The derailment further transformed the way I approach various difficult situations, offering me a new viewpoint – and reinforcing the idea that, however bad things seem, it is always a privilege to age.