I met creepy Clement Freud, and I lived through the culture of denial that allowed him to abuse

When Sylvia told her mother what was happening, she was accused of making it up. The same thing happened to me

Sir Clement Freud, whose victims came forward this week (Getty)

The other night, on television, two women described in graphic detail how the late Clement Freud had groomed them from the ages of 10 and 11. The process started with phone calls, presents and outings, eventually leading to years of abuse and in one case, violent rape.

In his early twenties Freud was seeking out little girls for special attention, and throughout his life as a highly successful broadcaster and MP it seems he was forcing himself on young women in the most revolting way. There can be no doubt these women were telling the truth, and five others have come forward with similar stories.

One consistent aspect of sexual abuse is particularly horrific: when victims confide in someone they trust, they are often called liars, even by a parent. Sylvia, who was sent to live with the Freud family aged 14, eventually told her mother what was happening – only to be accused of making it up and told she “should be grateful” for the attention.

That comment brought me out in goosebumps. When I was 10, mum took me to the hairdresser, leaving me in a cubicle with a middle aged man who cut my fringe. Then, standing behind me, he slid his hands down inside my cardigan and started stroking my chest.

I cringed, and froze. He stopped, and I jumped from the chair and ran to join my mother by the reception desk. She paid the hairdresser, waved goodbye, and we went home.

When said I didn’t want to go there again because of being touched, she threatened me with a slap and accused me of lying.

A few months later, I suspected the dentist had rearranged my dress while I was anaesthetised. Because of what had happened before, I just announced I wouldn’t go there again because of the pain when he used the drill. I’ve probably ended up with wonky teeth because it took years to trust any dentist.

This was back in the 1950s, the time that Sylvia was being assaulted by Freud. Over half a century later, is sexual abuse as common today, when schools hold lessons in personal behaviour and the NSPCC create campaigns specifically to show children how to recognise inappropriate sexual advances?

Sexual abuse seems to be in the news all the time, as police sift through thousands of allegations going back decades for the Goddard Inquiry. Some will be fairystories, but many will be true accounts of abuse that have split families and condemned victims to unhappy, troubled lives.

It’s not just the victims of abuse who are suffering. This week, over two years after an initial complaint, Sir Cliff Richard has been told there is “insufficient evidence” to charge him over allegations of sexual misconduct. The abortive police investigation cost more than £800,000, but the result may give Sir Cliff little comfort, as he could be questioned again if further information emerges.

Others in this situation – Jimmy Tarbuck, Jim Davidson and Paul Gambaccini, waited months and even years to be told they would not be charged. Now they (and Sir Cliff) want anyone facing allegations to be granted anonymity until charged. This seems a sensible proposal, and would prevent fiascos like the live televising by the BBC of the police raid on Sir Cliff’s home. Once charges are brought and a name becomes public, surely other victims will still come forward.

Unfortunately, though, famous (guilty) people are definitely shielded by other famous people and sometimes the police. How else can you explain the fact that one of Freud’s victims alleges she went to the police twice and still nothing happened? Doesn’t it sound like the Jimmy Saville saga all over again?

All too often those closest to the perpetrators, their family and friends, refuse to acknowledge something dodgy is going on, citing a celebrity’s entitlement to “a private life”. The BBC has been strangely quiet about Freud; he was a regular panellist on Radio Four’s Just A Minute until he died, his sarky put-downs treasured by smart people who ought to have noticed his behaviour.

He was devious, a brilliant liar, an arrogant bastard who wrote letters to his victims trashing them one minute (when they escaped) and then seeking their company the next.

The first time I met him, I was a young journalist on the Daily Mail, invited to the launch of a cookery book at a swanky hotel in the Cotswolds. There was a dinner for about 20 people. I can’t imagine why I was invited, but I remember getting thoroughly sloshed after drinking champagne and different wines with every course and ended up sitting next to Freud, who became rather lecherous. Luckily, I staggered to my feet and made it back to my room where I passed out.

I was probably 10 years too old anyway, but he was just so thoroughly creepy, I avoided him after that. Yet he seems to have bewitched his constituents and fellow broadcasters – an all too familiar story.