The Truth-Teller's Lie
exactly the same time as Simon was saying, ‘What kind of lorry is it?’ The difference between men and women, thought Charlie.
    ‘A big red one. I don’t know anything about lorries,’ said Naomi, ‘but Robert calls it a forty-four-tonner. You’ll see it when you go to the house.’
    Charlie ignored this last comment, avoided catching Simon’s eye. ‘You went to Robert’s home?’ she prompted.
    ‘Yes. Earlier this afternoon. I came straight here from there—’ Her words cut off suddenly, and she looked down at her lap.
    ‘Why?’ asked Charlie.
    Naomi Jenkins took a few seconds to compose herself. When she looked up, there was a defiant glint in her eyes. ‘After I’d been to the house, I knew something was seriously wrong.’
    ‘Wrong in what sense?’ asked Simon.
    ‘Juliet has done something to Robert. I don’t know what.’ Her face paled slightly. ‘She’s arranged it so that he can’t contact me. If for some reason he couldn’t get to the Traveltel last Thursday, he’d have rung me straight away. Unless he physically couldn’t.’ She flexed the fingers of both hands. Charlie had the sense that she was putting a lot of effort into appearing calm and in control. ‘He isn’t trying to give me the brush-off.’ Naomi directed this comment to Simon, as if she expected him to contradict her. ‘Robert and I have never been happier. Ever since we first met we’ve been inseparable.’
    Charlie frowned. ‘You’re separable and separate six days out of every seven, aren’t you?’
    ‘You know what I mean,’ Naomi snapped. ‘Look, Robert can barely last from one Thursday to the next. I’m the same. We’re desperate to see each other.’
    ‘What happened when you went to Mr Haworth’s house?’ asked Simon, fiddling with his pen. Charlie knew he hated anything like this, anything emotionally messy. Though he’d never use that phrase.
    ‘I opened the gate and went into the garden. I walked round the side of the house to the front—the front is at the back, if you’re coming from the street. I was planning to be quite direct, just ring the bell and ask Juliet straight out: “Where’s Robert?”’
    ‘Did Mrs Haworth know you and her husband were having an affair?’ Charlie interrupted.
    ‘I didn’t think so. He’s desperate to leave her, but until he does, he doesn’t want her to know anything about me. It’d make life too difficult . . .’ Creases appeared on Naomi’s forehead and her expression darkened. ‘But later, when I was trying to get away and she ran after me . . . But that was afterwards. You asked me what happened. It’s easier for me to tell it as it happened, in the right order, or else it’ll make no sense.’
    ‘Go ahead, Miss Jenkins,’ said Charlie gently, wondering if this ticking-off was a prelude to uncontrollable hysteria. She’d seen it happen before.
    ‘I’d rather you called me Naomi. “Miss” and “Ms” are both ridiculous in different ways. I was in the garden, heading for the front door. I . . . passed the lounge window, and I couldn’t resist looking in.’ She swallowed hard. Charlie waited. ‘I could see the room was empty, but I wanted to look at all Robert’s things.’ Her voice tailed off.
    Charlie noticed Simon’s shoulders stiffen. Naomi Jenkins had just alientated half her audience.
    ‘Not in a sinister, stalker-ish way,’ she said indignantly. Apparently the woman was a mind-reader. ‘It’s well known that if the person you love has a completely other life that doesn’t involve you, you desperately miss those everyday details that couples who live together share. You start to crave them. I just . . . I’d imagined what his lounge might look like so often, and then there it was in front of me.’
    Charlie wondered how many more times the word ‘desperately’ was going to make an appearance.
    ‘Look, I’m not scared of the police,’ said Naomi.
    ‘Why would you be?’ asked Simon.
    She shook her head, as if he’d
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