Brilliant lives cut short

The handsome young man who squeezed his 6ft 4in frame into one of the green and burgundy seats probably did not recognise the venerable BBC journalist and his wife, a celebrated author.

And no one could have known the two young Chinese women, although in their native Taiwan they were famous faces for millions of television viewers.

Further down the carriage a graceful and athletic woman in her late twenties took her seat, unaware, as was everyone else, that the black man sitting nearby was an African prince.

In precisely 11 minutes, these individuals, unknown to each other, were to share an appallingly tragic destiny. There is often bitter irony in catastrophe, but only now, as their stories emerge, do we know just how much the victims of the Potters Bar rail crash had in common.

It is especially poignant that these strangers were all gifted in some way, were all determined to make a contribution to society and, perhaps saddest of all, were on the brink of realising happiness for which they had strived.

As the Networker express accelerated away from Platform-Nine at King's Cross, catering steward Karl Brodrick began arranging his trolley of drinks and sandwiches. With luck, he would be busy as far as Cambridge, the first stop, then relax before King's Lynn, the end of his shift and home.

The tall young man, Jonael Schickler had, as ever, a book to hand. He could have been mistaken for a model, although the notion would probably have prompted that wide grin that delighted his friends. Mr Schickler, 15 days away from his 26th birthday, was determined to be known not for his looks, but for his mind.

How he would have revelled in the company of Austen Kark. Mr Kark, at 75, was a half century older, a brilliant journalist who had run the BBC's World Service during the early 1980s, a man who became renowned for his ability to combine rigorous intellectual standards with a talent for enjoying a glass of Gevrey-Chambertin. Before the Second World War Mr Kark had been a friend of C.S. Lewis at Oxford. What would the young Jonael Schickler have made of that? Mr Schickler was three weeks away from completing his PhD at Cambridge in "Metaphysics as Christology: an Odyssey of the Self from Kant and Hegel to Rudolf Steiner."

Like C.S. Lewis he was deeply committed to the exploration of philosophy and Christianity, the creed instilled in him by his mother Diana. Until recently she taught at the Michael Hall school in Forest Row, East Sussex, where Mr Schickler and his brother Johannes studied. The family has German-Swiss origins and they follow the teachings of the school's inspiration, Rudolf Steiner, the Austrian philosopher.

Mr Schickler was fired by an ambition to contribute his own thinking to this philosophy. Douglas Hedley, a Fellow at Clare College, Cambridge, knew him well. He said: "Jonael was an extraordinarily brilliant student with a stunning character. He was a highly intelligent and deeply spiritual young man with an immense physical presence. He was very athletic and good-looking. He was handsome enough to have been a film star, but he wasn't vain."

Heading back to his rooms at Cambridge, Mr Schickler never knew that Mr Kark, sitting just a few seats away had studied with his hero C.S. Lewis - the man who wrote: "I gave in and admitted that God was God and knelt and prayed."

Mr Kark had recently inspired prayer among his family and friends. A short time ago he was diagnosed suffering from a brain tumour. For an energetic man who, at the age of 74 had written his first crime novel, The Forwarding Agent, this was a desperate blow. But skilful surgery saved his life and when he boarded the Cambridge Cruiser at King's Cross on Friday he had everything to live for. His old friend P.D. James had been a great encouragement in his crime writing endeavours. It was to be hoped there would be another book.

With Mr Kark was his wife of 48 years, Nina Bawden, the acclaimed novelist who was to survive the crash, although she is still recovering from serious injuries including a broken collarbone. The couple were on their way to Norfolk, looking forward to a weekend with their son Robert.

As the graffiti stained buildings and walls of suburban London gave way to the first flashes of green and the meadows of Hertfordshire, Alex Ogunwusi contemplated a busy day ahead. Mr Ogunwusi - known to the members of his Nigerian tribe as Prince Alexander Adetunji Mubo Ogunwusi - was travelling to Cambridge. He had recently realised a lifetime ambition and qualified as a solicitor. He joined Afrifra and Partners in the Oval a few weeks ago and great things were expected of him.

He was on his way to the Oakington reception centre where he was to take up the case of an asylum seeker. At home in Tulse Hill were his wife Sola, daughters Janet, 13, Margaret eight, Hannah five and his son Samuel, 10. They were among the many who contributed to the persistent, desperate ringing of mobile telephones that is the aftermath of the modern train crash. As his mobile rang, Prince Alex, 42, was dying of internal bleeding.

Emma Knights, a 29-year-old computer wizard who worked for Oracle, was on her way home. As the Class 365 express reached its 100mph cruising speed she may have been thinking of her garden, which was her delight. Miss Knights - always called Em by her family and friends - played a lot of sport and adored sailing. She was a natural athlete and was a leading member of Oracle's women's athletics team.

But her most special talent was for friendship, her colleague and close friend Julia Hurst said. Miss Knights was less than an hour from home as the train left London behind. The weekend was ahead and Miss Knights, who was never more happy than when she cooked for her friends, may have been planning a meal. Perhaps, if the weather was right, they could lunch al fresco .... The train hurtled northwards; Oakleigh Park, New Barnet and Hadley Wood flashed by.

In the last carriage Lin Chia-Hsin, 29, was with her closest friends. She had been a star television journalist in Taiwan but came to London to do a master's degree and now was preparing to head home and begin a new phase in her career.

But first she wanted to show her friend Wu Chia-Ching, 32, the sights of Cambridge. Wu was also a television journalist and she had travelled to London for a holiday with her former colleague and close friend. With her was Liu Hai-Roh, 35, another friend who now works as an anchor for a television station in Hong Kong. Ms Liu survived the crash but remains critically ill. She does not know her friends are dead.

The line is arrow straight on the approach to Potters Bar. The last major feature is a bridge over a main road through the town, a route that Agnes Quinlivan often walked. She celebrated her 80th birthday two weeks ago, a grandmother of eight and a great grandmother of two. She moved to the town at the age of 15 from Ireland, although she never lost the cadences of her country's speech or its deep faith. She devoted herself to the sick and the dying, and for the past five years acted as a Eucharistic minister, taking communion to the bedridden. She was on her way home from Mass, walking under the bridge over which the train had just travelled.

The witnesses say it happened with a sound like thunder. The last carriage careered, then rolled then impacted with the force of an explosion. The debris from the bridge killed Mrs Quinlivan on the street below. In the chaos above, the strangers who had taken their last journey together, lay dead or dying.

Additional reporting: Alexis Akwagyiram, Hugh Dougherty, Laura Burkin, Keith Poole