At 14, my daughter Heidi is a diligent, sensitive child who’s into boy bands and dreams of becoming a florist. With three brothers, aged nine, ten and 20, she is a steady, mature presence in our boisterous home.

I can safely say finding a boyfriend is the last thing on her mind right now. She tells me she’s just not interested, and I’m relieved she’s in no hurry to grow up too quickly.

As for sex, the thought of her embarking on that level of intimacy at such a tender age is horrifying to me. She’s clearly still a child – and long may her childhood last.

Many will think her far too young for me to be worrying about such things. But although the age of consent is 16, that doesn’t prevent some from losing their virginity far younger.

I should know – I was only 12 when I had sex for the first time. And I’m painfully aware of the grave repercussions that can follow.

Influenced by the sex-obsessed pop culture of the 1990s – not to ­mention the wild claims of my schoolfriends about their own romantic endeavours – I had willingly suggested having sex with my best male friend, a 16-year-old boy I’d met at school. It’s something I now find deeply disturbing. I hadn’t known then that having sex with someone under 16 is ­statutory rape; it is illegal to do so, even if they consent.

Now 41, I’m only just joining the dots about the lasting impact of losing my virginity at such a young age.

Laura Hind-White was 12 when she had sex for the first time with a 16-year-old school friend

Soon after, I started rebelling in other ways – going from a promising student who hoped to become a vet to being expelled for non-attendance. I went on to form a string of unsuitable relationships and was divorced with two children by the age of 30.

It comes as no surprise to me that one study, which defined ‘early exposure’ to sex as having intercourse at age 14 or younger, discovered women who experience this will usually be involved in high-risk behaviours, are more likely to have a major depressive episode in their teens, and go on to divorce.

Though it’s not often discussed, I’m certainly not alone. A recent World Health Organisation report reveals English girls are more likely to have had sex at 15 than their peers in many developed countries.

Some 21 per cent of 15-year-old girls in England said they have had sex in the most recent year, compared with an average of 15 per cent across all nations. And 32 per cent had not used contraception.

An older, wiser me also regrets that I hadn’t even thought of using a ­condom. But then, why would my tween self have been adult enough to think about such matters? The younger you are, the less likely you are to realise the risk and consequences associated with such actions.

The thought that my beautiful, funny daughter could ever behave in such a way is anathema to me.

There’s something about having your own daughters that makes you see your past through new eyes.

Last year, singer Lily Allen – who has two daughters aged 12 and 11 – revealed she was ‘about 12’ when she had sex for the first time while on a family holiday in Brazil. ‘It was all a bit traumatic’, she said, on Alan Carr’s podcast ‘and I didn’t have sex again then for a while’.

Although I felt very grown-up at the time, the fact Heidi is now around the same age reminds me I was far too young. On the day it happened, I remember going to sleep in my own bedroom afterwards, cuddling my teddy and my ‘blankie’.

You may be drawing conclusions about what my home life was like, but I can’t blame a disadvantaged start in life for what happened. I grew up in a beautiful detached house in north London, attended a strict Catholic primary school and my mum, a care home manager, and dad, who worked in the transport industry, were respectable members of the community.

She learned that sex was a way to make men like her, which, in turn, attracted the wrong sort of partners later in life

I was a rather anxious child, struggling to fit in and follow in my A-grade sister’s footsteps. I always had friends who were boys, preferring their company to girls, who could be mean and competitive.

By 12, I was hanging out with boys in the years above me at school. One in particular, who was 16, became what I thought of as my best friend rather than a boyfriend.

He had lovely eyes, made me laugh and his mum was lovely to me, too. He defended me when other girls picked on me. We spent time at the local park or his ­parents’ house.

Although I was an early developer – my periods started on my 11th birthday – I don’t recall any sex ­education at school, so I was relatively naive. Instead, I turned to teen magazines, which in the mid-1990s were full of features such as Sex Position Of The Week.

Meanwhile, MTV videos showed girls in barely-there outfits bumping and grinding. The underlying message was that to be cool you had to be sexually gregarious. It didn’t help that girls in my class often talked about sex in the playground in a way that made me believe they had already lost their virginity.

Not only did it normalise the idea of sex at such a young age, but I started to feel I didn’t want to be the odd one out.

It wasn’t long before I started talking to my best friend about trying sex. He was far from a virgin and I could tell he found me attractive. One spring Saturday afternoon, we spent the day at the local shopping centre together before going back to his house when he knew his parents wouldn’t be in.

Not long after the front door closed, we found ourselves in his bedroom. I wasn’t afraid or embarrassed, I just felt weird being so intimate with a friend.

So young was I that when he had finished, I stood up and did a little curtsey and said thank you. I had to be home by 6pm, so I left half an hour after I’d arrived.

While it hadn’t hurt, I didn’t exactly enjoy it. I was so naive there had been no discussion of contraception – I was lucky I didn’t get pregnant.

At school, I couldn’t wait to tell the girls in my class that I’d finally done it, too. They wanted to know all the details and it soon became clear they weren’t at all as experienced as they’d claimed. I felt extremely foolish and as though I’d been misled. I never had sex with the boy in question again and we carried on as if nothing had happened.

I was normally very honest with my mum but I kept this secret for six months. Then, when we were sitting together in the kitchen one day, I blurted it out. She had been preoccupied at the time; I think it was a cry for attention.

Last year, singer Lily Allen revealed she was ‘about 12’ when she had sex for the first time and that her experience had been ‘a bit traumatic’

She was shocked. When she finally found the use of her voice, she asked: ‘Why?’ I told her I’d wanted to do it – and it was with someone I trusted.

Sex was never discussed in our family home and despite my shocking confession, my parents seemed keen to keep it that way. Dad was there, too, but he just kept reading his paper. There were was no talk of contraception or involving the police as a result of me being under age. I felt that my parents wanted to brush it under the carpet. I suspect the last thing Mum wanted was the police at the door, shattering the family reputation.

Before then I’d been relatively studious, yet my future crumbled as I became more and more rebellious. I got a tattoo at 14, returning home and proudly showing it off to my horrified mum. I started going to the pub with older friends, too.

Things went from bad to worse when, at 15, I left home for two weeks, staying with a man of 20. Mum told me I’d regret it but I thought I knew best.

Of course it didn’t work out and I was back home after a fortnight. But by then I’d been expelled from school for non-attendance and was waiting to be accepted into another one.

Soon after, I left full-time education without any qualifications and, at 16, took an admin job at the local air force site. I walked in wearing a pair of stilettos, tight trousers and my hair swinging in a ponytail. I was delighted there were so many men.

I started seeing a man who was 35 and went on to set up home with him. We married when I was 18, with my parents determined to make the best of things for me.

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They paid more than £15,000 for our wedding, even going to France to buy wine and vintage champagne. I suspect they thought I’d turn over a new leaf with a respectable marriage.

I thought I had it all – a job, a home and a gorgeous man. But it was all too soon. Deep down, I knew I wasn’t living the life I’d wanted. When I was pregnant with my eldest son, I plunged into a deep depression. When Heidi was born six years later, my marriage had already hit the rocks.

By 30, I was a single mother to two children. It’s only now that I realise losing my virginity at 12 set me on this trajectory. I had learned that sex was a way to make men like me, which, in turn, attracted the wrong sort of partners.

I did go on to have other ­relationships, but the fact I’d sleep with them on the first night meant they were doomed to failure. I’d wait for them to leave me, and they always did.

Then in 2013 I met Paul, who broke this pattern. A friend of a friend, he had gorgeous eyes and asked lots of questions about me. Unlike so many other men, he didn’t care what I looked like but about the kind of person I was.

I sensed we would marry, but he refused to sleep with me for the first month. He was horrified when I first suggested sex, telling me he’d never had a one-night stand. When we finally did make love, it was the first time I’d ­properly enjoyed it. I was fearful of admitting how young I’d been when I lost my ­virginity because he’s quite reserved. He accepted it, but I suspect deep down believes, like I now do, that I was a child who couldn’t really consent.

We married in 2014 and went on to have our two sons. We have been married for ten years and lead a happy, peaceful life. At first, we had sex every day; now with a busy family, it’s at least once a month.

In reaction to my own upbringing, I’m open with my children about sex and relationships. If they have questions, I’d rather they ask me than try to find out for themselves.

I joke Heidi will be in her 40s before I finally allow her to have sex. I know I don’t have to worry about her, though. She is rather disgusted I lost my virginity at such a young age – I’m glad she thinks this way, too.

As told to Samantha Brick