by Silver Abi
She still had the transcript of the case lying next to her on the sofa, to provide comfort and reassurance of familiar processes. Periodically, she would flick to a particular page and read the text, closing her eyes to remember how she had felt as she spoke to each witness, to the judge, to the watching world, trying to rekindle the sheer exhilaration of the experience. It was heartening as a limited means of reminding her of what she had just achieved and it provided some respite from her wider mental anguish.
She allowed her head to sink back against the cushions. She could not believe it was only four months since she had sat in the same chair and called Constance’s number for the first time. It had been a whirlwind they had conjured up, she and Constance, and its effects would continue to be felt for many months yet.
She opened the transcript to find the record of the end of day four; her exchange with Greg Winter. As she read through his answers one by one, she tried to remember how he had looked as he had faced her onslaught; mostly calm, open and honest. There had been no hint of reproach of her in any of his responses, even though she had deserved it. She gave a small involuntary gasp and before long she found herself sobbing aloud.
She was interrupted again by the telephone’s shrill invitation of contact. Resignedly, she allowed the transcript to close, reached over and this time, she picked it up.
“Hello.” Her voice felt unnaturally loud in the quiet room.
“Hello, Judith?”
“Yes.”
“This is Greg, Greg Winter.”
“Yes, I recognise your voice.”
“Look. I’ve been calling lots and you never answer.” He didn’t sound impatient, more concerned.
“No. I was a little busy.”
“I’m sure. Everyone wanting a piece of you after your victory. Listen, Judith, I need to tell you something. I should have said it when we were outside court but I just couldn’t. I think my pride was a little dented.”
“Oh.”
Judith wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and sat up straight, waiting for Greg to continue.
“Do you remember I told you I used to try to beat Pinocchio?”
“Yes. Well, yes, I do.”
“All those years ago, I used to test Pinocchio on myself. I used to record myself reading out questions and then play them back and answer them and see what Pinocchio thought of my replies.”
“I see.” Judith was now wondering if she really should have taken the call, but Greg was not to be put off by her brevity.
“I always used the same questions. That way I could keep changing what I did, trying to win. And one of those questions I asked myself was whether I thought I would ever fall in love again.”
Judith remained silent this time, the sunlight kissing the wall just above her head.
“Are you still there, Judith?”
“Yes, I’m here.”
“And, you see, I always answered ‘no’. Every time. But the last time you came, the night I gave you the gift – you probably don’t remember, that necklace I got for you – after you left I tested myself again. And I said ‘no’ to that question. And Pinocchio picked me up on it; said that some muscles above my left eye had moved in a curious sequence. Damn machine. I was sure it was wrong. So I tried again and Pinocchio said I lied a second time. And it was only then I realised. Stupid, isn’t it? It took a machine to make me realise something that had been staring me in the face for weeks. Judith, can you please say something so I know you are still there and haven’t got bored of me going on and on?”
“Yes, Greg, I’m still here,” Judith answered quietly.
“What I realised then was that, in that moment, I was very much in love with you. And, I don’t think I have stopped being in love with you ever since.”
Judith’s throat constricted suddenly and now the tears she had fought so hard to hold back were falling thick and fast.
“I don’t expect that we could just re-start things where we left off,” Greg continued, “but, well, I know you’re alone now. Maybe we could go slowly, begin with just one drink, see how we go, see if we still enjoy each other’s company?”
Judith struggled to control her voice but years of practice had not been wasted. A small sniff was all she needed to return to more neutral tones.
“Thank you for calling, Greg,” she replied softly. She allowed her eyes to travel around the room. Nothing needed dusting or cleaning or polishing or putting in its place. She stared at the trial transcript next to her on the sofa and then carefully turned it face down.
“It would be perfectly lovely to have a drink with you. But I warn you, I have a very busy schedule.”
“That’s just what I expected,” Greg Winter replied with a mellow and affectionate laugh.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
My thanks go to Dan Hiscocks, Andrew Samuelson, Simon Edge and all the team at Lightning Books for believing in me and The Pinocchio Brief, to Scott Pack for his incredible editing skills and guidance, to Shona Andrews for the fabulous cover design, Kat and Clio for copyediting and typesetting, and to Ruth Killick and Lucy Ramsay, my publicity agents. I must, of course, also acknowledge the enormous contribution of my parents, Jacqie and the late Sidney Fineberg, both inspirational teachers, who encouraged me and my sisters to spend all our waking hours reading.
ABOUT LIGHTNING BOOKS
Lightning Books was founded in 2016. Our aim is to publish books which are not easy to categorise. We believe slightly quirky works, falling a little outside straight genres, nonetheless have big market appeal for readers and for good retailers who still know how to sell. Our titles do not fit into clear, neat categories.
They include Simon Edge’s tragicomic debut about Gerard Manley Hopkins and five shipwrecked nuns; a political satire by Douglas Board (author of MBA, ‘a must-read for anyone who enjoyed Franzen’s Freedom or Egger’s The Circle’, according to The Bookseller’s Felicity Wood), set in 2020 after Britain elects its own Donald Trump; The Shifting Pools by Zoë Duncan, an evocative and colourful piece of fiction/fantasy writing which deals with the impact of trauma and war on children, and this, The Pinocchio Brief – a courtroom thriller looking at the role/impact of technology on today’s society.
We expect to publish the unexpected. Imagine your favourite cocktail. It is made from a base spirit you like and then has added ingredients to give it a twist – often intoxicating and surprising. We want our books to be like cocktails – based on a genre but with imaginative and quirky twists to surprise readers. Key to it all is that these are stupendously good reads, strong narratives and strong writing, introducing some exciting new author voices.
Table of Contents
PART ONE
PART TWO: Six years earlier
PART THREE: The present
PART FOUR
Acknowledgements
About Lightning Books