Trust is a funny thing.
From a young age you’re told not to talk to strangers, especially if they claim to have sweets or puppies.
But part of growing up means you have to start putting your trust in those very people you were warned about at primary school.
When you start going out on the town as a teenager, you need to put your faith in taxi drivers that they’ll see you safely home.
Especially if, like me, you were always the last to be dropped home.
You find you need to talk to strangers all the time – to make new friends at college and university, to find someone to love, to get that first job, to get to know your colleagues and, in fact, to do your job.
For most of us it’s an easy transition to make. We guard against strangers in dark alleys at night, but embrace the ones we meet socially and professionally elsewhere.
The problems come when those types of people abuse our trust.
We get used to certain people looking after us – a hug from your mum is always amazing, no matter how old you are.
And then there are the teachers you see, day in, day out, whose job it is to look after your welfare as well as your education.
It’s easy to look up to such people, and it’s not as if a schoolgirl or schoolboy crush is uncommon.
But when that trust is broken, when the adulation is abused, that’s like a sacred bond being broken.
So I think it’s right that Jeremy Forrest has been sentenced to five-and-a-half years for taking his 15-year-old school pupil lover to France.
It was no Romeo and Juliet tale of forbidden love between two opposing households.
If it was, it would have been Montague Snr running off with the pre-teen Juliet.
Not a tragi-romantic tale of love and loss, but more a creepy parable of child abduction, of an abuse of trust more akin to King Lear than anything else.
I hope the girl in question comes to realise this was not love – because to my mind, it was something much more sinister.