Lisa Hoodless and Charlene Lunnon were 10 years old when they were snatched from the street by a convicted paedophile. For four days they were held prisoner in his flat and repeatedly sexually violated while the nation held its breath, willing them to be found safe. Alan Hopkinson was found by police with the girls huddled together in his front room. He pleaded guilty to the crime and was given nine life sentences.

And that, for the public at least, is where stories like this usually end. Children don't often survive adbuction by men such as Hopkinson, a truth that weighs heavily on the mind as we await news of nine-year-old Shannon Matthews, missing now for more than a week. If they do survive, we rarely hear from them again. There is a bleak assumption that they are sentenced to a lifetime of therapy, hopelessly damaged victims with the spectre of sexual abuse forever hanging over them.

Lisa and Charlene resent that assumption. Today they are young women of 19 and want it to be known that they are fine, actually. They don't underplay the grotesque ordeal to which they were subjected, but they do not agree that they have been ruined by it. Not at all. Sometimes they feel almost guilty about this, as if the very suggestion that you can “come to terms with” or “get over” rape, especially as a child victim, somehow trivialises the act and disrespects other victims. Let's be clear: they do not. What they are saying is that there is a choice about you deal with a catastrophic event. This is how they dealt with it.

It was on January 19, 1999 when the girls were walking to school together in their home town of St Leonards, near Hastings, East Sussex, that Hopkinson, prowling the neighbourhood in his car, struck. In a narrow street, he had almost hit Lisa when she stumbled on to the road and he got out to apologise. Seizing his moment, he started to bundle Lisa into the boot of his car. She screamed but no one came. Charlene, frozen with fear and not wanting to leave her best friend alone, simply allowed herself to be bundled in with her.

Lying in the darkness as Hopkinson drove towards Eastbourne, Charlene tried to comfort Lisa by singing to her. As the more streetwise of the two, she says that, even at 10, she realised from the outset that their kidnapper had a sexual motive. Both were convinced that they were about to be killed, but the presence of the other girl stopped either from becoming hysterical.

Hopkinson, then 45, whom the girls remember smelling “old and manky”, stopped first in a quiet, country layby, pulled Charlene out and, perhaps in some warped attempt to bond with her, made her sit on his knee and answer questions such as her name, favourite colour, favourite food and the names of her parents. He then called in at the house of his elderly parents, who were away on holiday, took Lisa inside, stripped her, tied her wrists behind her neck with a pair of tights and made her answer similar questions, writing down her responses. At no point did anyone hear Charlene, who was screaming loudly in the boot. When Charlene screamed that she needed the toilet, he produced a bucket. But this was merely Hopkinson's preamble. He drove the girls to his flat above a shopping centre in Eastbourne and smuggled them inside, where he began his systematic abuse, repeatedly taking them in turn into his filthy bedroom over the next few days.

It is highly uncomfortable to talk about the subject of child sexual abuse, more problematic still to write about it. Morally, should we leave what actually happened unsaid? Might it provide titillation for another paedophile? Or is it our duty to confront what happened, grotesque as it may be?

Neither Lisa or Charlene become distressed when they talk about it. In fact, they say it sometimes feels like they are recounting a story and it never really happened. “It's weird - when I see old news clips and cuttings [about when they were missing] I think: ‘Oh, I feel really sorry for those girls' but I don't see it as us,” says Charlene, who has perhaps learnt the benefits of dissociation. We conduct this interview at Charlene's house, which is only a minute's walk from Cornfield Terrace, the road where they were kidnapped. Neither has ever felt a need to move away from the area, although they say this is probably only because they know that Hopkinson will never be released.

Lisa remembers the first time that Hopkinson took Charlene into his bedroom while she was again left tied up in another room, her hands and feet turning purple with the pressure of the ligatures. She could hear her friend crying and pleading for Hopkinson to stop, terrified and bewildered about was going on. “That first time, Charlene came back and said: ‘He raped me,'” she says. “I said: ‘What's that?' I had no idea. She had to explain it to me. That's when I knew what was going on.”

Certainly Hopkinson had no mercy for the girls when they were weeping and pleading. Lisa says: “It used to go on for hours. I remember looking at the clock going round from 9 till 11 in the morning.” Charlene could hear her screams through the wall. Lisa learnt to separate herself from the moment, thinking of happier times with her parents to get her through the ordeal. Charlene says that sometimes Hopkinson just ordered her to lie on top of him naked. Cruelly, he had told them that he had asked their parents for ransom money but that they weren't prepared to pay. Yet he let them watch the TV news about the huge police search for them and the agonised faces of their parents at press conferences begging for their return, which clearly contradicted this. The Spice Girls made an appeal for information. Charlene says she could tell from her father's face on TV that he thought she was dead.

But, at the same time, Hopkinson seemed to want to bond with the children, to have a “meaningful” relationship with them. Each time he abused the girls, he claimed to be overcome with remorse. “After he'd done whatever he'd done, he said: ‘Right, I won't do that no more. I'm a bad man,'” Charlene says. “But he always did.” He would tell them stories about other children he claimed to be friendly with and warned them that if they tried to escape there was a madman living next door with a dog who would kill them. Being children, they believed him. “He'd say: ‘At least I'm being gentle with you, not like other men would be,'” Lisa says. Meanwhile, he had removed all the door handles in the flat so that they couldn't escape.

Once, when he was asleep, they plotted to kill him and searched the flat for a knife, but Hopkinson had hidden them all. “We honestly thought that this was it for the rest of our lives,” Lisa says. “I thought that this was going to be our home.” Incredibly, Hopkinson once left the girls alone in the flat while he went to collect his parents from the airport. But all the windows were bolted, the doors were locked and the girls in any case were frightened of the “madman” next door. They raised each other's spirits by cuddling each other and talking about school and things they might do if they were ever released.

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