The Brewer of Preston Read Online Free PDF

fingers formed the
cacocciola
.
    How?
    He raised his eye to the sky, kept it there a moment, then pointed his index finger upward.
    From the roof.
    Surprised and frightened, she made the
cacocciola
again.
    How will you get up there?
    He smiled, stiffened his left hand horizontally, and the index and middle fingers of his right hand mimed the motion of a man walking on it.
    With a plank.
    She looked dumbfounded and he smiled again. He was calm and resolute.
    She formed a small circle with her forefinger and thumb, to indicate a clock, then gathered the fingers together again
a cacocciola
.
    When?
    He raised his open hands chest high, moving them lightly forward and back.
    Wait.

    â€œOne of the parts that make up the hull,” her dear departed had once explained to her, “is the bilge, a dark and smelly place where all the ship’s filth ends up.”
    Then why, if it was a stinky, nasty place, was he trying to force his way in there?

    Finally, on a recent Sunday, his index and middle fingers had mimicked a man walking.
    I’m coming.
    And without giving her time to respond, he held up three fingers.
    In three days.
    Again without pausing, he brought his two clenched fists together, then spread them outward and forward.
    Open the French door to the balcony.
    Once outside the church, she didn’t have the courage to tell Agatina about all the conversations she’d been having each Sunday with the young stranger. She only asked:
    â€œDo you know the young man we’ve been seeing in church, the one with only one blue eye?”
    â€œYes, he’s one of the Inclima family. I think his name is Gaspàno. He’s unmarried.”
    And they carried on talking about the young man until they got to Concetta’s front door. As she was about to leave, Agatina said to her:
    â€œGaspàno is a wonderful boy. He’d be quite a catch for you.”

    Back at home, Concetta raced to the balcony of her bedroom to look outside and suddenly understood Gaspàno’s audacious plan. Right behind her building, rising as high as the eaves, was a mountain of salt in the courtyard used as a depot by the Capuana firm. It would be relatively easy to lay a plank at the top of it, cross over to the tiled roof, and then ease oneself down into the double window.
    She went back inside to make herself something to eat, but was unable. In the pit of her stomach was a sort of iron-hard stone. For the rest of the afternoon she dawdled about, not knowing what to do, fussing with things of no importance, such as sewing a button onto a shirt or adjusting the wick on a lamp. But everything she did she botched: her mind just wasn’t in it.
    She went to bed when it was still light outside, but couldn’t fall asleep. All at once, when she least expected it, a waterspout began to form in a specific part of her body. At first there were little ripples on the water’s surface brought on by a hot wind, hotter than the scirocco; then the gusts grew stronger and started spinning like a drill, with the point of the drill stuck to the same spot, turning and turning while the upper end of the waterspout broadened and invaded her body, which lay on the bed with arms and legs spread, making it shake all over.
    Her dear departed had once told her that a waterspout can be made to deflate like a punctured football. One need only have the courage to approach the base of the twister with a caique, stick an oar through it, and mutter some mystical mumbo jumbo which, unfortunately, her dear departed had not revealed to her.
    And so the caique that was her right hand bravely put out to sea and began to head south, pulled up alongside the cavity in the middle of her abdomen, skirted close round its edge, then proceeded to descend along a precise course, reached the center of the gulf created by her open legs, and cast anchor at the exact point where the waterspout rose up. As the caique rocked back and forth in those rough seas,