Adam Gould

Cover Adam Gould
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Genres: Fiction
A red rosy apple, A lemon or a tart?
Tell me the name Of my sweetheart.
While the storm lasted, the monsignor stayed cocooned in the hammock and read his breviary. Gusts rattled the tiles and Adam lay on a storage table redolent of long-gone apples: a cidery reminder of childhood and Hallowe’en, that day of days which had licensed rowdy behaviour.
Drowsily, his train of thought shunted back to those old festivities and the man who planned them. Wanting companions for his pupil, Father Tobin use
...d to invite locals in for ‘a spot of rough and tumble’ – which could turn rougher than foreseen. One game required players, with hands behind them, to seize apples from a tub of water. Good training perhaps for hobbled lives? Other apples hung on strings, and Adam’s memories now bobbed as elusively. In one his father’s mouth nuzzled under a skirt, steadied a low-hung apple against a leg and bit – what? Mama’s shriek was startling, but Papa denied he had bitten her. Of course not, silly!MoreLess

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