My wife Ruth and I were on a guided tour of my old boarding school, Ashdown House. We had told the headmaster we were thinking of sending our daughter to this famous prep school, a feeder to Eton College.
But the true purpose of our trip was to confront my demons, still lurking in that beautiful 18th-century building in the East Sussex countryside, 45 years on.
We passed the classroom window beside which Thomas Keane, the maths master, sexually assaulted me, and the brick fireplace at which I…
