“My maternal grandmother grew up with the spectre of an older brother she never knew. Her older sisters would say: “Oh you should have known mother before Paul was hit in the stomach with a green apple and died.” My grandmother only had memories of a heartbroken woman, who died when she was sixteen, and of living in a family in which time and fortune were marked by a green apple. “My darling Paul died at 1:30 am. I had intended to speak upon heaven at 10:30 am. A hard stroke but God’s will be done”, my great-grandfather, a minister, wrote in his sermon log, 5 June 1900.