An Incident That Changed Me: My Train Was in an Accident – and then There Was a Little Girl Weeping.
The moment it dawned on me my life was in danger arrived during my 20s, when life was really just starting out. My dearest friend, Helen, and I were on our way to Blackburn to catch up with a friend from college who had recently moved there for work. Overjoyed at the reunion, and basking in the prospect of the social gathering to come, we chatted nonstop as we traveled by train from York.
We stashed our bags – full of essentials such as our favorite wines and my brand-new black clogs – on the overhead rack 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, this time impossible to ignore. Someone cried out as our carriage was lifted off the tracks in what felt like slow motion. In an instant, Helen and I were upright in the middle of the aisle, hugging each other. Head down, eyelids tightly closed, I expected the carriage to roll over and burst into flames, similar to cinematic scenes. I remember thinking our families and friends hearing the tragic update. That's when the sound of the little girl crying.
“It's going to be fine,” I murmured, my tone was hoarse. “The worst has passed,” I stated, primarily to calm my own nerves.
She appeared to be seven or eight, and looked like she had no guardian. 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. “Don't turn around,” Helen shouted, too late. I glimpsed a man with his face covered in blood. A large metallic item had penetrated the window behind us. Later, we discovered a uncontrolled excavator had tumbled down the embankment and smashed into our carriage, causing us to derail.
Our compartment was trapped with its front end in the air. Next was the sound of sirens and another traveler asked me to pass the little girl to him so he could pass her through the window, as kids were being rescued to emergency personnel below. Not long afterward, Helen and I were similarly exiting of the train window and descending via a ladder on to the track.
Standing on firm land again – beside a freight warehouse in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. I searched for the little girl and observed her being embraced by her mother, as it transpired had been using the restroom when the crash occurred. A firefighter kindly retrieved my clogs. A fellow passenger sat down heavily on Helen’s case, causing it to burst open – but, by good fortune our wine was unharmed. Following a 30-minute delay, we traveled in a complimentary taxi to Blackburn, accompanied by a young man and the female passenger who had broken Helen’s case. Our university friend greeted us, visibly shaken. She had heard there had been a derailment and a staff member had led her away and offered her a hot drink while she anticipated updates.
Bolstered by youthful resilience, we pushed the derailment from our minds and proceeded with the social outing, which included 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 sustained only bruises and aches and pains from the force of the sudden jolt in the carriage. The train had been slowing to enter Leeds station, which had been the key factor in averting grave physical damage. Since nobody was badly hurt made it easier not to focus on the “what ifs” but it was the little girl who changed my outlook profoundly. Taking care of her and soothing her helped take my mind off myself and showed me the importance of looking outwards in a crisis. Over the years, I have repeatedly asked myself if she had any memory of the event, and how significant it had been for her.
Helen and I have stayed close for over 30 years and Pudsey has become shorthand for our ability to cope any situation, so long as we are together. Having her companionship during the accident created the sensation that I was insulated from the most terrifying aspects. The crash also changed my method of handling different emergencies, giving me perspective – and reminding me that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it remains a gift to age.
