Wake Up, Mummy Read Free

there was anything seriously wrong with their daughter, and that she was ill rather than ‘bad’.
    Bernadette was proud, respectable and respected, a pillar of her local church community and a good woman who had suffered a terrible tragedy in the loss of herbeloved son. Appearances and conformity mattered to her, though, and she would rather have died than lay herself open to the humiliation of being judged by her friends and neighbours. She and her husband based their parenting on sound Christian principles. They were strict with their children, but had close, loving relationships with them – all of them, that is, except Judith. It was Judith alone who caused problems in the family, and although Bernadette tried to love her, Judith constantly pushed her mother away, frightening her with her irrational and explosive behaviour and creating chaos and unhappiness all around her.
    As a teenager, Judith resented what she saw as her parents’ total lack of understanding and sympathy for her. Whenever they did try to help her, though, she flew into a rage, hurling foul abuse at them and accusing them of interfering in her life. No amount of cajoling or pleading seemed to have any effect.
    And, throughout all those years, Bernadette was haunted by crushing guilt for her son’s death, and by the fear that Judith might be able to sense her struggle to love her. Sometimes, when Judith was out with her unsuitable and mostly unpleasant friends, Bernadette would wrestle with the conflict of worrying about what trouble her daughter might be getting into and gratitude for the few hours of peace and harmony that were restored in thehouse whenever she wasn’t at home. It was a deeply unchristian, un-maternal thought and it filled Bernadette with remorse and shame. But she simply couldn’t help thinking it.
    Then, one day, driven to the end of her tether by her daughter’s snarling aggression, Bernadette walked silently into the hallway, lifted her coat from the stand by the front door, picked up her handbag and left the house. She had to talk to someone. She had never hated anyone in her life, but sometimes, when she looked at her daughter…
    A tear slid down the side of her nose and she wiped it away impatiently with the back of her hand. She hadn’t wanted anyone, ever, to know what went on behind the front door of her home. But Judith was single-handedly ripping the family apart, and something had to be done to try to stop her, for all their sakes. As Bernadette walked down the street with feigned brisk purpose, she decided she would talk to her priest. If only she could make Judith learn to have faith in God, she was certain her daughter would be able to turn her life around.
    The priest at Bernadette’s local church was also a family friend and a regular visitor to the house. So he already knew a little of the trouble and distress that had been caused over the years by Judith’s reckless selfishness. Even so, he was shocked to see the strain and exhaustion soclearly evident on Bernadette’s face, and he agreed readily to speak to Judith.
    Now all Bernadette had to do was find a way to persuade her daughter to meet with the priest.
    For once, though, it seemed that God heard one of Bernadette’s prayers and Judith responded to her mother’s nervous request by grunting something incomprehensible, shrugging her shoulders and muttering, ‘I s’pose.’
    Judith’s family were often convinced that she hated and despised them. In reality, however, she felt as though her life was spiralling out of control. She was always quick to excuse her erratic, destructive and promiscuous behaviour and to blame everyone but herself for anything that went wrong. And she was loud in defence of her right to do whatever she pleased. But underneath the tough hostility of her facade was a child who was frightened by the power of her own emotions and who often thought she was losing her mind.
    A few days after her mother’s visit to the priest,