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T it dawned on me I was about to die 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 just relocated there for work. Overjoyed at the reunion, and basking in the prospect of the party weekend ahead, we talked incessantly as we traveled by train from York.

We stashed our bags – packed with necessities such as our favorite wines and the clogs I had just bought – in the storage compartment and made ourselves comfortable in a comfortable double seat. Approximately 50 minutes after starting our journey, I was faintly cognizant of a bang. Another one sounded, which could not be dismissed. A female passenger shrieked as our carriage was lifted off the tracks in what felt like a delayed sequence. In an instant, Helen and I were upright in the middle of the aisle, holding each other tight. With my head lowered, eyes screwed shut, I expected the carriage to overturn and ignite, like in the movies. I remember thinking our loved ones receiving the notification. Subsequently, there was the little girl crying.

“Everything is okay,” I said softly, my voice sounding croaky. “It’s all over,” I murmured, mostly for my own benefit.

She was about seven or eight years old, and seemed to be entirely alone. Her crying shook me out of my trance; now I could do something meaningful. I made my way to where she was standing and put my arm around her. “Don't turn around,” Helen yelled, the warning came after the fact. I glimpsed a man whose face was bloody. An enormous piece of metal had penetrated the window behind us. Afterward, we discovered a runaway digger had tumbled down the embankment and collided with the train, leading to the derailment.

Our car was lodged with its front end in the air. Next was the sound of sirens and a man nearby requested that I 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 also climbing out of the train window and descending via a ladder on to the track.

Standing on firm land again – next to a goods shed in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. I looked for the little girl and observed her being embraced by her mother, as it transpired had been in the toilet at the time of the accident. A firefighter kindly retrieved my clogs. One of the passengers plonked down on Helen’s case, causing it to burst open – but, by good fortune our wine stayed unbroken. Following a 30-minute delay, we traveled in a free cab to Blackburn, alongside an adolescent and the female passenger who had caused the luggage to burst. Our host was there, visibly shaken. She was aware there had been a derailment and a staff member had led her away and made her a cup of tea while she anticipated updates.

Displaying the fearlessness of young adulthood, we set the accident aside 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 required hospital treatment. Helen and I sustained only bruises and aches and pains from the impact of being thrown forward in the carriage. The train had been slowing to enter Leeds station, which had been the primary reason in avoiding serious injury. Since nobody was badly hurt made it easier not to focus on the “what ifs” but that young girl who made a permanent impression. Attending to her and calming her down distracted me from my own fear and showed me the value of looking outwards in a crisis. In the decades since, I have frequently pondered if she had any memory of the event, and how big a deal it had been for her.

Helen and I have now been friends for more than three decades and That location's name now symbolizes for our skill in managing with anything, so long as we are together. Having her companionship during the accident created the sensation that I was protected from the full horror of the event. The crash also changed the way I approach different emergencies, giving me perspective – and reinforcing the idea that, however bad things seem, it is always a privilege to grow older.