At one point, we were convinced Danny was dead when the police found the body of a boy in the place they suspected our son was being held. It was the singular worst moment of my life. A parent isn’t supposed to outlive their child. It’s not in the natural order of things. But our grief was transformed into hope when, within an hour of that dreadful news, we were told the dead boy wasn’t our son. Sadly though, he was someone else’s child and any relief I felt was tinged with guilt – how could I be glad when someone else’s son had died instead of mine?

Danny was found shortly afterwards, attempting to escape from his captors. He was exhausted, hungry and dehydrated and when the whole story emerged, we learned that our son had experienced the kind of trauma which no child should ever have to suffer.

His return to us was miraculous, an answer to my prayers, which I knew I didn’t deserve. I couldn’t help but be thankful that it wasn’t my son who died so violently, but my delight at having Danny back will always be overshadowed by the other poor boy, another mother’s beloved son.

During the days and weeks following Danny’s return, the details of his kidnapping unfolded slowly. Our boy, who’d been forced to grow up far too soon, told us of his ordeal. The dead boy was his friend – a friendship formed in an impossible situation – and a friend who led a life so disparate to his own, the kind of life Danny was previously unaware existed.

Since his return, our son has asked us to call him Dan in future, which I think is a tribute to his friend, Lewis, who was the only person ever to shorten his name. It hurt me deeply to learn of the way Dan was treated. He was left cold, hungry and thirsty for most of the time, only being given food by Lewis as and when the other boy was able. Dan wasn’t even given the dignity of a toilet to use. Most of his time was spent alone and afraid, except when it was safe for Lewis to be with him.

Although connected to the kidnappers, Lewis became a friend, and one whom I’ve no doubt Dan will never forget. He and his mother took on the role of guarding Dan, but a bond developed between the boys and that poor child, who had a drunk for a mother and no known father, showed our son more compassion than his captors did.

Lewis was an enigma. Dan rarely speaks of him but when he does it’s with a certain reverence, as if Lewis was and always will be, his hero.