I moved into number 2 Hillcrest the day of my 19th birthday. It was a small apartment with a tiny kitchen, a small sittingroom, shower room and a bedroom big enough for a double bed and a bedside cabinet. I didn’t care, it was mine – all mine. I didn’t know a soul in this town and that was just how I liked it.

I’d just made myself a coffee and started to flick through a magazine when there was a knock on my door. Wondering who on earth it could be I slid the chain on before opening the door. A man, elderly, was standing there. “Hello” he said, “I noticed I had a new neighbour and thought it would be a neighbourly thing to introduce myself” and proceeded to push his hand through the crack in the door to shake my hand. A little startled I smiled and shook his hand. “hi I’m Jill” I said, “pleased to meet you”. “Albert” he said, “I stay across the landing at number 4, if you need anything or just fancy a chat just pop over, my doors always open and I know how difficult it is being on your own and being in a new place”. With that he nodded at me then turned and left. “Thank you” I called after him, “I’ll do that”, but not having the slightest intention of ever knocking on his door.

A couple of days later I came home after a pretty soul destroying tour of the job centres and local bars and shops. “Sorry, we’ve nothing just now” was the message from them all. I let myself into the apartment and immediately the cold hit me. “Shit” I thought as I realised my heating was definitely not working.