Former Ambassador to Ireland Richard Muscat tells Ariadne Massa how he is waiting for the Prime Minister to heal the wounds, more than a year after he was forced to resign his diplomatic post.

A tight staircase leads down to an airy basement that has been converted into a cosy living area and study where Richard Muscat spends hours engrossed in a book or writing his memoirs.

The walls are lined with shelves heaving under the weight of biographies and Maltese history, while the few white spaces left are decked with keepsakes that connect him to the Nationalist Party, the political organisation that has moulded the path of his life since childhood.

The original 1932 scoresheet of Inno del Partito Nazionale Maltese, framed and fading, sits in one corner, while a silver plate, encased in a glass box, hangs on the wall - a token from former PN leader Eddie Fenech Adami "for your role... in the fight for the people to acquire liberty and democracy".

The plate is a cherished gift, because it symbolises the party's recognition for the years Mr Muscat spent in Italy, isolated from his family, to broadcast the PN's message, which was being muffled by the socialist regime in the 1980s.

Underneath, positioned on the speakers, is a yellowing silver frame where Dr Fenech Adami, who had just been elected Prime Minister in 1987, is seen embracing a visibly emotional Mr Muscat, who had finally returned to Malta after six years in exile.

Moving to another part of the room, his brown eyes linger on a tattered PN flag, conserved behind glass, which he used to put up on the antenna, while broadcasting through Studio Master during his stint in Ragusa in 1981, as a symbol of resistance and freedom of expression.

"One day, I want to give all these keepsakes to the party, but not yet," he says, frowning like a jilted lover who refuses to dish the dirt because he is convinced they will make up.

However, unable to disguise the pain, he makes his way to the sofa, takes a deep breath and lets all the pent up emotions of the past year, since resigning prematurely as Ambassador to Ireland, tumble out.

The bolt struck in October 2006 when a 20-year-old Dubliner, Christina Leech-Clearly, claimed she had been sexually assaulted by Mr Muscat's son.

He remembers going to the police station where he found his son suffering from psychological shock. He informed the police of his position, offered his full cooperation and cautioned them to handle his son with care.

Then he picked up the phone, called the Dublin Foreign Office - his host is Ireland - and put them through to the police. The office instructed the police to pass any information through them, as part of protocol.

"At that point I had to make a judgment call. Should I inform my foreign office, or wait, since this was a preliminary investigation that all the fair-minded people in Dublin assumed would fizzle out? I decided to wait until there was concrete action before informing the Foreign Affairs Minister (Michael Frendo)," he says.

Mr Muscat was later criticised for failing to inform Dr Frendo when this incident occurred. What led him to take this decision?

"I had just emerged from the Voice of the Mediterranean radio station saga (where there had been allegations of wrongdoing, which were eventually dropped). I was convinced that if I informed my Foreign Office, the news would leak and land in the hands of the opposition, who, riding on the wave of VOM's bad publicity, would attempt to destroy me and my family," he says, reiterating that he had acted correctly at all times, and had not tried to hide anything.

However, things took a turn for the worse in August 2007, when Mr Muscat happened to be in Malta on a private visit to see his sick mother.

Ms Leech-Clearly went to the police station to establish if there had been any progress into her case. A policeman told her, "Don't think you'll get anywhere with your claim because he's the son of an ambassador" - this officer has since been disciplined for his imprudence in the matter.

The woman was angry and assumed the 'perpetrator' would get away with it, waived her anonymity and went to the Irish tabloids. It was mid-August, and the journalists pounced on the story, "sexing it up by bringing diplomatic immunity into it, which was never an issue, and splashing my photos on the front page."

The Maltese media picked it up immediately, and Mr Muscat got a call from his distressed wife saying she was being dogged by photographers and badgered by the media.

It was a Friday and Mr Muscat immediately called Dr Frendo, whose reply was, "we know", because he had received a call from a Maltese journalist.

"I didn't feel guilty because I felt I had a clean conscience and I was waiting for concrete action - there had been no charges against my son. He (Dr Frendo) probably thought I was trying to hide the situation from him. It was a misunderstanding, but I was hounded out."

Did he offer to resign at that point?

Battling to maintain a steady voice, he looks up at the ceiling and manages to utter "no".

The next day, a Saturday, Mr Muscat was getting ready to fly back to Dublin, when he got a call from Dr Frendo summoning him to his office.

"Michael told me clearly: 'I have to take a position. We don't believe what the papers are saying, and as ambassador you've done a very good job and we're very happy with your performance. However, you are in politics and the hounding will continue; we need to take stock of the political implications.

"He (Dr Frendo) continued: 'I'm in the thick of things with the Commonwealth campaign and I need Labour's backing. This attack, no matter how unjust, puts you in my way. I risk losing Labour's backing'."

At the time Dr Frendo was in the race for the post of Commonwealth Secretary General. He was already smarting from the opposition's attack for three weeks earlier reappointing Mr Muscat as ambassador after the VOM affair, and this would deal a blow to his campaign.

"I was unprepared for this and told Michael: 'If you believe I'm innocent, why are you asking me to pay a price? Are you asking me to be a sacrificial lamb?' Michael's reply was, 'yes'. I didn't want to be in anybody's way and I was not glued to my seat either. My goal was to provide a service. If he felt this way, I was ready as long as I bowed out with dignity."

Mr Muscat signed the letter of resignation, which had already been finalised. It read that he had done his best as ambassador, but the media attacks did not allow him to perform his duties. The whole thing lasted 35 minutes.

"It felt terrible; it was a total devastation," he says, gulping back his tears, as he recalls how he was forced to resign.

"That day I bawled my eyes out. I still get emotional whenever I remember what happened. I was looking for support, and I was thrown to the sharks."

Saddened by the fact that many would view his resignation as an admission of guilt, Mr Muscat flew back to Ireland with a heavy heart. That same day the Foreign Affairs Ministry published his resignation letter.

When his family packed their bags to return to Malta in October 2007, the Irish Director of Public Prosecutions announced its decision - no charges would be brought against Mr Muscat's son.

"Despite being cleared, Michael still feared that if he rehabilitated me the opposition would embark on an attack and he would lose their support."

Does he feel betrayed by the party?

"I wouldn't say by the party, but by a person. I feel I still enjoy respect from people and the grassroots. He misjudged (the situation). I had assumed it was a wider decision but the Prime Minister had been on holiday at the time," he says.

Lawrence Gonzi has since tried to publicly mend matters and during a pre-electoral party activity at Birkirkara said: "Here in front of me is Richard Muscat, there is an open wound and we want it to heal."

Mr Muscat believes Dr Gonzi is a fair-minded man and he has full faith that he will find a way of mending matters: "I leave it in his hands. I'm not asking for the moon. I'm asking for nothing, except that truth prevails and justice is done."

Mr Muscat stresses that he is not expecting his job back, even though he had been happy in his position. No position would heal the psychological trauma he and his family endured. He was just awaiting a satisfactory solution.

"At 64 I'm of pensionable age. But I also feel I have a lot to give. However, that's not my immediate priority. My priority is to heal this wound," he says.

Referring to one of his books, The Price of Loyalty by Ron Suskind, Mr Muscat, without referring to his party, says that he embraces loyalty but not when it risks putting truth as its slave.

"As soon as we reach that point, truth prevails. I feel like I'm in the balance. I wish to remain loyal and I'm still hopeful, but the test is huge, and I'm waiting, waiting," he says, pointing to a scrap of paper pinned to the shelves.

Printed on the paper is a quote by German poet Hermann Hesse, who believed that to combat the daily adversaries a person needed three qualities: fortitude, tenacity and patience.

"I'm keeping the three going... but patience is the one being tested the most. It's been a year and two months since I returned to Malta, the election has passed and I'm still patiently waiting," he says.

Waiting has been the story of Mr Muscat's political life, but he now seems tired of these games with a party he has dedicated some of his best years to.

Mr Muscat chose to enter politics when Dom Mintoff's Labour Party was returned to power in 1971.

"For me that election was the source of all evil. It was clear that the government elected that day was promising dark shadows for Malta, it was already being felt, in Mintoff's arrogance, and the obscene electoral campaign against PN leader George Borg Olivier," he says, adding this had fuelled his political drive.

In 1977, he took a risk and left his secure job as a clerical officer with the government to become executive secretary of AZAD - the Academy for the Development of a Democratic Society, which was still in its infancy.

He introduced the concept of the Festa tal-Hbiberija (friendship gathering) in towns and villages, where he offered a feast of culture, traditions and folklore with a slight political tinge.

"Mintoff used to urge people not to attend these events calling them 'a Trojan horse', which was true. This was an event where people could mingle with Eddie (Fenech Adami) and other party MPs, and discuss ideas over a glass of wine," he recalls with a smile.

When the election of 1981 crept closer, Mr Muscat decided to stop the activities of AZAD to be able to dedicate more time to the campaign, but the "blessed party" never called and he began to feel sidelined.

Until one day, Dr Fenech Adami summoned him to his house and informed him that he had been chosen by the party's administrative council to go to Ragusa for 10 days to start the broadcasts on Studio Master radio, and eventually MTV Studiorama television.

"He told me it was just 10 days and he'd find someone else I could alternate with. My wife and I didn't sleep that night discussing the different scenarios and implications. We never thought I'd be there for so long," he says.

He packed his bags and left on Wednesday October 13, 1981 - he never returned, except once, and he remained in Italy for six years because the risks were too high.

While he was there Mr Mintoff did his utmost to stop the transmissions and eventually, after several legal battles, the station was pulled off air in 1983, leaving Mr Muscat in limbo.

That time too he was waiting for a decision on his fate. He was all alone in Ragusa with no mission. He could not return for fear of repercussions.

Eventually, he was employed full-time with a Christian Democratic organisation in Rome, where he remained for four years.

When he returned in 1987, he served in numerous positions with the party, before taking on the post of managing director at VOM, a shortwave radio venture between the Maltese and Libyan governments, in 2000.

The station was closed down on December 31, 2003, after the Libyan government failed to pay its share of the funding. In 2006 an Auditor General's report looked into financial irregularities on Mr Muscat's behalf, followed by inconclusive Public Accounts Committee investigations.

Mr Muscat always believed this had been "a pre-fabricated campaign" against him, and earlier this month he received the confirmation he had been looking for.

Joe Vella Bonnici, a former candidate for the post of Labour's general secretary, withdrew the allegations he had made about "financial embezzlement" involving Mr Muscat. After hearing all the witnesses he said he was satisfied there had been no wrongdoing on the part of Mr Muscat.

"I didn't really need Vella Bonnici's certificate because my conscience was clear. I knew what I was doing and that I had done my best. Not without mistakes, but there was never any issue of wrongdoing," he says.

After two back-to-back ordeals - the VOM saga and the allegations against his son - Mr Muscat had to face another trial, this time his health. When he returned from Ireland, Mr Muscat decided to undergo a full medical, scheduled for June - a colonoscopy revealed he had colon cancer.

He underwent chemotherapy, and an examination last week established that he was clear... for now.

"Sometimes I feel there is somebody up there who has a plan which we don't understand. My mother has since had a stroke and if I had remained in Dublin I wouldn't be able to visit her every day. And had I not returned, I wouldn't have done the test. Life is a mystery. You pick a flower from the thorns," he says, leafing through a pile of pages, with printed poems and inspirational quotes, which hang from a wall of his study.

He ends the interview by quoting lyrics from Bob Dylan's Restless Farewell: "The dirt of gossip blows into my face, and the dust of rumours covers me. But if the arrow is straight, and the point is slick, it can pierce through the dust no matter how thick. So I'll make my stand, and remain as I am, and bid farewell and not give a damn."