Giving a friendly wave from across the road, I rushed inside, closing the door behind me.

Visiting my mum, Susanne*, 46, in summer 2012, when I was just 15, she lived in a different county compared to me and my dad, Peter*, 52 – so I’d see her every now and then during the holidays instead.

Which meant that I would get to see my sister, too.

And making friends with her neighbour Daniel, then 28, from across the street, we would bump into one another often – Mum inviting him over sometimes for a few drinks in the evening.

Making awkward small talk, there was something I found a little unnerving about Daniel, although I couldn’t put my finger on what it was.

Despite that, he seemed friendly enough, always asking for my opinion and ideas on certain subjects.

Although I was 15, for the first time in my life, I felt like I was being treated like an adult – he didn’t put me down and I enjoyed conversing