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I remember trying to comfort him as he sat on my knee at the end of his fifth birthday party.

It had all gone horribly wrong for Henry, who was in floods of tears because another child had blown out one of the candles on his birthday cake before he could.

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When I arrived at the Priory, Henry was standing in the middle of the room, looking baffled, but his face lit up when he saw me, and we embraced.

He told me he had felt the urge to walk barefoot back to Canterbury.

So I have been away from home a lot but over the years I had become used to reading reports from Henry's teachers praising him for being able, likeable and articulate, but often adding that he could be spectacularly disorganised and was forgetful of rules.

From an early age, his artistic talent was apparent.

He insisted on walking on the other side of the street from Jan and Alex.

At lunch, Henry talked away about eco-lifestyles: 'Everybody should live only in the daylight, get up at dawn and go to bed at dusk.

His paintings were strikingly original and he had no difficulty getting into art college in Brighton at the end of 2001, after five years at King's School, in Canterbury, one of Britain's leading private schools.

When I saw Henry that Christmas, he had seemed to me to be his usual intelligent, charming, and humorous self.

Henry was not there when they arrived but the door of his room in the halls of residence was open so they went in.

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