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T I realized the end was near came a couple of years into my 20s, when life was really just starting out. My dearest friend, Helen, and I were traveling to Blackburn to visit an old university friend who had recently moved there for work. Thrilled to see each other, and basking in the prospect of the party weekend ahead, we conversed constantly as we journeyed by train from York.

We stashed our bags – packed with necessities such as wine bottles and my new pair of black clogs – above our heads and made ourselves comfortable in a snug pair of seats. Roughly halfway through our journey, I was vaguely conscious of a bang. This was followed by a second, now unmistakable. 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, clinging to one another. Head down, vision blocked, I anticipated the carriage to overturn and ignite, as I’d seen in films. My thoughts turned to our families and friends hearing the tragic update. Subsequently, there was the young girl weeping.

“You’re all right,” I murmured, my voice sounding croaky. “It’s all over,” I whispered, more to myself than her.

She appeared to be seven or eight, and appeared to be completely on her own. Her sobbing snapped me back to reality; here was my chance to help. I moved to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Avoid looking back,” Helen shouted, but it was already too late. I saw a man with his face covered in blood. A huge metal object had crashed through the window behind us. Subsequently, we found out a driverless construction vehicle had tumbled down the embankment and into the side of the train, causing us to derail.

Our compartment was trapped with its leading section elevated. Then came the noise of sirens and another traveler instructed me to hand the child over so he could pass her through the window, as kids were being rescued to emergency personnel below. A few minutes later, Helen and I were likewise scrambling out of the train window and scaling a ladder down on to the track.

Back on terra firma – beside a freight warehouse in Pudsey – uncontrollable shivers took over. My eyes scanned for the little girl and watched her mother gather her up, who it turned out had been in the toilet when the crash occurred. A firefighter kindly retrieved my clogs. A fellow passenger plonked down on Helen’s case, making it split apart – though luckily our wine remained intact. Once we had waited for thirty minutes, we proceeded in a provided car to Blackburn, accompanied by a young man and the woman who had damaged the suitcase. Our friend was waiting, pale with worry. She was aware there had been a derailment and a railway official had escorted her to an office and prepared some tea for her while she anticipated updates.

Displaying the fearlessness of young adulthood, we pushed the derailment from our minds and continued with our evening plans, which included a memorable turn by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. No one died in the incident, despite the fact that several people required hospital treatment. Helen and I escaped with bruises and aches and pains from the impact of being thrown forward in the carriage. The locomotive was decelerating to approach Leeds station, which had been the key factor in preventing major harm. Given that nobody was badly hurt allowed us not to obsess over the “what ifs” but it was the little girl who made a permanent impression. Attending to her and reassuring her distracted me from my own fear and showed me the importance of focusing on others in a crisis. Over the years, I have frequently pondered if she had any memory of the event, and what a major event it had been for her.

Helen and I have stayed close for over 30 years and That location's name now symbolizes for our skill in managing any situation, as long as we're side by side. Having her companionship during the accident gave me the impression I was protected from the worst of the situation. The derailment further transformed the way I approach different emergencies, offering me a new viewpoint – and serving as a reminder that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it remains a gift to grow older.