An Event That Changed My Life: The Train I Was On Was in an Accident – and subsequently There Was a Young Girl Crying.
T I realized my life was in danger came a couple of years into my 20s, as my adult life was unfolding. My closest companion, Helen, and I were headed to Blackburn to visit an old university friend who had made a new home there for work. Overjoyed at the reunion, and enjoying the thought of the upcoming weekend of fun, we chatted nonstop as we journeyed by train from York.
We placed our luggage – containing vital items such as our favorite wines and the clogs I had just bought – in the storage compartment and got seated in a cosy two-seater. Roughly halfway through our journey, I was faintly cognizant of a bang. Then came another, this time impossible to ignore. A female passenger shrieked as our carriage was lifted off the tracks in what felt like a dreamlike pace. Suddenly, Helen and I were somehow on our feet in the middle of the aisle, hugging each other. Looking down, vision blocked, I anticipated the carriage to flip and explode, similar to cinematic scenes. I remember thinking our relatives and companions receiving the notification. That's when the sound of the little girl crying.
“It's going to be fine,” I murmured, speaking with a rasp. “The worst has passed,” I murmured, primarily to calm my own nerves.
She was about seven or eight years old, and appeared to be completely on her own. Her crying shook me out of my trance; now I could do something meaningful. I moved to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Don't turn around,” Helen shouted, but it was already too late. I glimpsed a man whose face was bloody. A huge metal object had smashed through the window behind us. Afterward, we discovered a runaway digger had descended the slope and collided with the train, leading to the derailment.
Our compartment was trapped with its front end in the air. Next was the sound of sirens and another traveler asked me 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 similarly exiting of the train window and climbing down a ladder onto the railway line.
Once back on solid ground – beside a freight warehouse in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. I looked for the little girl and saw her being scooped up by her mum, we later learned had been in the toilet when the crash occurred. A rescuer graciously recovered my clogs. Another traveler plonked down on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – but, by good fortune our wine was unharmed. Following a 30-minute delay, we made our way in a free cab to Blackburn, alongside an adolescent and the female passenger who had damaged the suitcase. Our host was there, ashen-faced. She had heard there had been a derailment and a guard had taken her into his office and made her a cup of tea while she waited for news.
Displaying the fearlessness of young adulthood, we pushed the derailment from our minds and proceeded with the social outing, which featured a notable act by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. There were no fatalities in the incident, despite the fact that several people were taken to hospital. Helen and I got away with bruises and aches and pains from the violent forward motion in the carriage. Our speed had been decreasing to approach Leeds station, which had been the key factor in averting grave physical damage. The fact that nobody was badly hurt made it easier 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 taught 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 capacity to handle with anything, provided we have each other. Having her companionship during the accident gave me the impression I was protected from the full horror of the event. The crash also changed my perspective on other types of crises, providing me with insight – and serving as a reminder that, however bad things seem, it is always a privilege to grow older.
