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That instant it dawned on me my life was in danger occurred in my 20s, when life was really just starting out. My closest companion, Helen, and I were traveling to Blackburn to reunite with a friend from college who had recently moved there for work. Delighted to be together, and enjoying the thought of the party weekend ahead, we chatted nonstop as we journeyed by train from York.

We stashed our bags – containing vital items such as wine bottles and the clogs I had just bought – in the storage compartment and got seated in a snug pair of seats. Roughly halfway through our journey, I was vaguely conscious of a bang. This was followed by a second, which could not be dismissed. A female passenger shrieked as our carriage was thrown up into the air in what felt like slow motion. Suddenly, Helen and I were upright in the middle of the aisle, hugging each other. With my head lowered, vision blocked, I expected the carriage to flip and explode, similar to cinematic scenes. My thoughts turned to our relatives and companions receiving the notification. That's when the sound of the little girl crying.

“Everything is okay,” I whispered, my voice sounding croaky. “It's finished now,” I murmured, more to myself than her.

She appeared to be seven or eight, and seemed to be entirely alone. Her weeping jolted me from my stupor; this was my opportunity to be useful. I moved to where she was standing and wrapped an arm around her. “Don't turn around,” Helen yelled, but it was already too late. I caught sight of a man with blood all over his face. A huge metal object had smashed through the window behind us. Subsequently, we found out a runaway digger had tumbled down the embankment and collided with the train, leading to the derailment.

Our carriage was stuck with its leading section elevated. Following that came of sirens and a fellow passenger asked me to hand the child over so he could assist her exit through the opening, as kids were being rescued to fire crews on standby. Not long afterward, Helen and I were likewise scrambling out of the train window and descending via a ladder onto the railway line.

Once back on solid ground – next to a goods shed in Pudsey – I began trembling violently. My eyes scanned for the little girl and observed her being embraced by her mother, who it turned out had been in the toilet when the crash occurred. An emergency worker helpfully fetched my clogs. A fellow passenger sat down heavily on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – but, by good fortune our wine stayed unbroken. Once we had waited for thirty minutes, we traveled in a complimentary taxi to Blackburn, accompanied by a young man and the lady who had caused the luggage to burst. Our friend was waiting, pale with worry. 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.

Bolstered by youthful resilience, we put the train crash to one side and proceeded with the social outing, which featured a notable act by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. There were no fatalities in the incident, although several people were taken to hospital. Helen and I escaped with bruises and soreness and discomfort from the force of the sudden jolt in the carriage. The locomotive was decelerating to enter Leeds station, which had been the key factor in preventing major harm. The fact that nobody was badly hurt allowed us not to dwell on the “what ifs” but it was the little girl who left a lasting impact on me. Taking care of her and calming her down shifted my focus outward and showed me the importance of looking outwards in a crisis. In the decades since, I have frequently pondered if she recalled any details, and how significant it had been for her.

Helen and I have now been friends for thirty-plus years and That location's name now symbolizes for our capacity to handle with anything, provided we have each other. Being with her that day made it feel as if I was shielded against the full horror of the event. The crash also changed my perspective on different emergencies, providing me with insight – and serving as a reminder that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it is invariably an honor to age.