Sir David Suchet

It's Friday, the 9th of June, 1865, somewhere in the rolling fields of Kent.

The 230 from Folkestone is speeding northwest at over 50 miles per hour.

In a first-class carriage near the front of the train sits a 53-year-old man, the nation's favourite author, Charles Dickens.

He's dressed in a long, dark frock coat and cravat.

His top hat rests on the seat beside him.

Sitting opposite Dickens is his mistress, Ellen Turnan.

They've just returned from a trip to France together.

Within a couple of hours, they should be back home in London.

But what Dickens doesn't know right now, as he looks out at the Garden of England speeding by, is that he and Ellen are moments from disaster.

There's a jolt as the locomotive skips off the track, a stomach-churning second as it seems to fly free of its guide rails.

Then the carriage begins to jerk violently.

They're grinding along the ground, like the basket of a half-inflated hot air balloon scraping along the earth, as Dickens will later describe it.

Ellen grips Charles' hands in terror.

Her face is white.

Neither of them is sure whether they're going to survive the next few moments.

The Staplehurst rail crash proved a seminal moment for Charles Dickens.

He and Ellen were lucky to survive it.

Sitting at the front of the train, their carriage remained upright throughout the disaster.

Others, meanwhile, broke off from the locomotive, tumbling down a bank to one side.

Ten people were killed in the crush, and many more seriously injured.