An Incident That Changed My Life: My Train Was in an Accident – and afterward There Was a Child Weeping.
The moment it dawned on me my life was in danger arrived during my 20s, at a time when everything was beginning. My closest companion, Helen, and I were on our way to Blackburn to reunite with an old university friend who had recently moved there for work. Overjoyed at the reunion, and enjoying the thought of the upcoming weekend of fun, we chatted nonstop as we traveled by train from York.
We stashed our bags – full of essentials such as bottles of wine and my new pair of black clogs – in the storage compartment and made ourselves comfortable in a comfortable double seat. Roughly halfway through our journey, I was vaguely conscious of a bang. Then came another, now unmistakable. A female passenger shrieked as our carriage was lifted off the tracks in what felt like a dreamlike pace. In an instant, Helen and I were upright in the middle of the aisle, hugging each other. Looking down, vision blocked, I expected the carriage to roll over and burst into flames, as I’d seen in films. I remember thinking our families and friends getting the news. That's when the sound of the child sobbing.
“Everything is okay,” I whispered, my voice sounding croaky. “It’s all over,” I murmured, primarily to calm my own nerves.
Her age was roughly seven or eight, and appeared to be completely on her own. Her crying shook me out of my trance; now I could do something meaningful. I moved to where she was standing and put my arm around her. “Avoid looking back,” Helen called out, too late. I glimpsed a man whose face was bloody. An enormous piece of metal had crashed through the window behind us. Subsequently, we discovered a runaway digger had rolled down the hill and collided with the train, causing us to derail.
Our carriage was stuck with its leading section elevated. Following that came of sirens and another traveler asked me to pass the little girl to him 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 similarly exiting of the train window and climbing down 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 in the lavatory during the incident. A firefighter kindly retrieved my clogs. One of the passengers sat down heavily on Helen’s case, making it split apart – but, by good fortune our wine was unharmed. After a half-hour wait, we traveled in a free cab to Blackburn, alongside an adolescent and the female passenger who had damaged the suitcase. Our host was there, visibly shaken. She had heard there had been a derailment and a railway official had escorted her to an office and offered her a hot drink while she hoped for information.
Bolstered by youthful resilience, we set the accident aside and continued with our evening plans, which featured a unforgettable performance by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. No one died in the incident, despite the fact that several people were taken to hospital. Helen and I got away with 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 crucial element in avoiding serious injury. Since nobody was badly hurt helped not to dwell on the “what ifs” but it was the little girl who changed my outlook profoundly. Looking after her and soothing her distracted me from my own fear and showed me the value of directing attention externally in a crisis. Over the years, I have often wondered if she had any memory of the event, and how significant it had been for her.
Helen and I have remained friends for more than three decades and That location's name now symbolizes for our capacity to handle with anything, provided we have each other. Being with her that day gave me the impression I was shielded against the full horror of the event. The derailment further transformed my method of handling various difficult situations, giving me perspective – and reinforcing the idea that, no matter how dire circumstances appear, it is always a privilege to get older.
