It’s a cold winter’s afternoon in 1978. My mother draws up in her car to collect me from the school gates. I climb into the back seat and utter the daily response that school was fine. In fact, it hasn’t been fine. It wasn’t fine that day or any other, but particularly not that day.
After classes had finished, a teacher had lured me into a classroom and sexually assaulted me.
One of the principles you learn at private schools, as in all secretive groups from the mafia to the Freemasons, is that — at all costs — you keep quiet. However, this wall of silence has started to crumble in Edinburgh over the past few weeks.
