An Incident That Altered Me: Our Train Crashed – and then There Was a Child Crying.
The moment it dawned on me I was about to die arrived during my 20s, when life was really just starting out. My dearest friend, Helen, and I were on our way to Blackburn to visit a former classmate who had recently moved there for work. Delighted to be together, and reveling in the anticipation of the upcoming weekend of fun, we talked incessantly as we made our way by train from York.
We placed our luggage – full of essentials such as our favorite wines and my new pair of black clogs – above our heads and made ourselves comfortable in a snug pair of seats. Approximately 50 minutes after starting our journey, I was vaguely conscious of a bang. This was followed by a second, now unmistakable. A woman screamed as our carriage catapulted upward in what felt like a delayed sequence. In an instant, Helen and I were upright in the middle of the aisle, clinging to one another. With my head lowered, vision blocked, I anticipated the carriage to flip and explode, like in the movies. I recall pondering our loved ones hearing the tragic update. Then I heard the young girl weeping.
“Everything is okay,” I murmured, my tone was hoarse. “The worst has passed,” I whispered, primarily to calm my own nerves.
She was about seven or eight years old, and seemed to be entirely alone. Her sobbing snapped me back to reality; now I could do something meaningful. I moved to where she was standing and gave her a reassuring hug. “Avoid looking back,” Helen shouted, the warning came after the fact. I saw a man with blood all over his face. An enormous piece of metal had crashed through the window behind us. Afterward, we discovered a driverless construction vehicle had rolled down the hill and into the side of the train, causing us to derail.
Our car was lodged with its nose pointing upward. Then came the noise of sirens and another traveler instructed me to hand the child over so he could assist her exit through the opening, while young passengers were extracted to fire crews on standby. A few minutes later, Helen and I were also climbing out of the train window and climbing down a ladder on to the track.
Standing on firm land again – adjacent to a storage building in Pudsey – I began trembling violently. My eyes scanned for the little girl and saw her being scooped up by her mum, we later learned had been in the lavatory when the crash occurred. An emergency worker helpfully fetched my clogs. Another traveler plonked down on Helen’s case, making it split apart – but, by good fortune our wine stayed unbroken. After a half-hour wait, we proceeded in a provided car to Blackburn, accompanied by a young man and the lady who had caused the luggage to burst. Our friend was waiting, visibly shaken. She was aware there had been a derailment and a guard had taken her into his office and prepared some tea for her while she hoped for information.
Displaying the fearlessness of young adulthood, we pushed the derailment from our minds and continued with our evening plans, which featured a notable act by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. Not a single life was lost in the incident, despite the fact that several people required hospital treatment. Helen and I got away with bruises and aches and pains from the impact of being thrown forward in the carriage. The train had been slowing to come into Leeds station, which had been the primary reason in avoiding serious injury. The fact that nobody was badly hurt made it easier not to obsess over the “what ifs” but it was the little girl who made a permanent impression. Attending to her and calming her down helped take my mind off myself and showed me the worth of directing attention externally in a crisis. Over the years, I have often wondered if she remembered anything about it, and what a major event it had been for her.
Helen and I have now been friends for more than three decades and Pudsey has become shorthand for our skill in managing any situation, provided we have each other. Being with her that day made it feel as if I was shielded against the worst of the situation. The derailment further transformed my perspective on various difficult situations, offering me a new viewpoint – and reminding me that, however bad things seem, it remains a gift to get older.