Watching my daughter meticulously apply her lip gloss, I smiled.
Naturally pretty, she didn’t need it. But Bridie loved her make-up, fake tan and false eyelashes.
Although 15, she’d always be my little blonde curly-haired girl.
‘Love you, Mum,’ she beamed, hugging me tight.
But behind her sparkling smile lay the terrible anxiety Bridie suffered.
Sad for our girl, her dad Richard, then 53, and I could see past her facade.
The youngest of three, Bridie adored her older brothers Pat, 19, and Riley, 16, and was always
