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T I realized the end was near came a couple of years into my 20s, at a time when everything was beginning. My best friend, Helen, and I were on our way to Blackburn to catch up with an old university friend who had just relocated there for work. Overjoyed at the reunion, and basking in the prospect of the party weekend ahead, we talked incessantly as we journeyed by train from York.

We put our suitcases – full of essentials such as bottles of wine and my new pair of black clogs – in the storage compartment and settled down in a cosy two-seater. About 50 minutes into our journey, I was faintly cognizant of a bang. Another one sounded, now unmistakable. A female passenger shrieked as our carriage was thrown up into the air in what felt like a dreamlike pace. All at once, Helen and I were upright in the middle of the aisle, hugging each other. With my head lowered, eyes screwed shut, I anticipated the carriage to flip and explode, like in the movies. I recall pondering our relatives and companions receiving the notification. Subsequently, there was the child sobbing.

“You’re all right,” I whispered, my voice sounding croaky. “It’s all over,” I whispered, mostly for my own benefit.

Her age was roughly seven or eight, and looked like she had no guardian. Her weeping jolted me from my stupor; here was my chance to help. I made my way to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Avoid looking back,” Helen yelled, but it was already too late. I saw a man with blood all over his face. A huge metal object had smashed through the window behind us. Later, we learned a runaway digger had descended the slope and smashed into our carriage, making the train leave the tracks.

Our compartment was trapped with its leading section elevated. Following that came of sirens and a man nearby instructed me to pass the little 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 down to the rails.

Once back on solid ground – beside a freight warehouse in Pudsey – I began trembling violently. I searched for the little girl and observed her being embraced by her mother, as it transpired had been in the lavatory during the incident. An emergency worker helpfully fetched my clogs. One of the passengers plonked down on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – though luckily our wine was unharmed. Following a 30-minute delay, we made our way in a free cab to Blackburn, alongside an adolescent and the lady who had broken Helen’s case. Our university friend greeted us, ashen-faced. She was aware there had been a derailment and a staff member had led her away and prepared some tea for her while she hoped for information.

Displaying the fearlessness of young adulthood, 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. No one died in the incident, even though several people were taken to hospital. Helen and I escaped with bruises and aches and pains from the force of the sudden jolt in the carriage. Our speed had been decreasing to enter Leeds station, which had been the crucial element in averting grave physical damage. The fact that nobody was badly hurt allowed us not to focus on the “what ifs” but that young girl who changed my outlook profoundly. Taking care of her and soothing her shifted my focus outward and showed me the worth of directing attention externally in a crisis. As time passed, I have often wondered if she recalled any details, and what a major event it had been for her.

Helen and I have remained friends for thirty-plus years and "Pudsey" is now our code word for our skill in managing any situation, provided we have each other. Being with her that day made it feel as if I was protected from the full horror of the event. The derailment further transformed the way I approach different emergencies, offering me a new viewpoint – and reinforcing the idea that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it remains a gift to get older.