A Moment That Changed My Perspective: The Train I Was On Was in an Accident – and subsequently I Overheard a Little Girl Sobbing.
T I knew I was about to die came a couple of years into my 20s, as my adult life was unfolding. My best friend, Helen, and I were headed to Blackburn to reunite with a former classmate who had made a new home there for work. Overjoyed at the reunion, and enjoying the thought of the upcoming weekend of fun, we conversed constantly as we traveled by train from York.
We placed our luggage – containing vital items such as our favorite wines and the clogs I had just bought – above our heads and settled down in a comfortable double seat. Approximately 50 minutes after starting our journey, I was vaguely conscious of a bang. Then came another, which could not be dismissed. A female passenger shrieked as our carriage was thrown up into the air in what felt like a delayed sequence. All at once, Helen and I were somehow on our feet in the middle of the aisle, clinging to one another. Head down, eyes screwed shut, I anticipated the carriage to roll over and burst into flames, as I’d seen in films. I recall pondering our loved ones getting the news. Then I heard the little girl crying.
“You’re all right,” I whispered, speaking with a rasp. “It's finished now,” I whispered, mostly for my own benefit.
She appeared to be seven or eight, and looked like she had no guardian. Her crying shook me out of my trance; here was my chance to help. I went to where she was standing and put my arm around her. “Don’t look round,” Helen shouted, too late. I saw a man with blood all over his face. An enormous piece of metal had crashed through the window behind us. Later, we discovered a runaway digger had tumbled down the embankment and smashed into our carriage, causing us to derail.
Our carriage was stuck with its front end in the air. Following that came of sirens and a man nearby instructed me to pass the little girl to him so he could help her out the window, as kids were being rescued to emergency personnel below. Shortly after, Helen and I were similarly exiting of the train window and descending via a ladder down to the rails.
Back on terra firma – beside a freight warehouse in Pudsey – my body started to shake uncontrollably. I looked for the little girl and watched her mother gather her up, who it turned out had been using the restroom at the time of the accident. An emergency worker helpfully fetched my clogs. One of the passengers collapsed on Helen’s case, resulting in it breaking open – though luckily our wine stayed unbroken. After a half-hour wait, we proceeded in a complimentary taxi to Blackburn, alongside an adolescent and the female passenger who had damaged the suitcase. Our host was there, pale with worry. She had heard there had been a derailment and a guard had taken her into his office and offered her a hot drink while she hoped for information.
With the invincibility of youth, we pushed the derailment from our minds and carried on with our night out, which included a notable act by Blackburn drag queen Clitheroe Kate. No one died in the incident, even though several people required hospital treatment. Helen and I escaped with bruises and soreness and discomfort from the impact of being thrown forward in the carriage. Our speed had been decreasing to enter Leeds station, which had been the primary reason in averting grave physical damage. Since nobody was badly hurt helped not to dwell on the “what ifs” but the child was the one who made a permanent impression. Looking after her and reassuring her helped take my mind off myself and demonstrated the worth of looking outwards in a crisis. Over the years, I have frequently pondered if she recalled any details, and what a major event it had been for her.
Helen and I have remained friends for over 30 years and Pudsey has become shorthand for our skill in managing any situation, as long as we're side by side. Being with her that day made it feel as if I was protected from the worst of the situation. The accident additionally altered my method of handling various difficult situations, offering me a new viewpoint – and reminding me that, regardless of how terrible things look, it is invariably an honor to grow older.
