Free The Truth-Teller's Lie by Sophie Hannah Page B

has she been here, uninvited?’
    ‘She was here yesterday,’ said Juliet, as if it were an answer to Simon’s question. ‘I looked out of my bedroom window and saw her in the garden, trying to run away before I got downstairs.’
    ‘So she’s only been here once. No court would issue an injunction.’
    ‘I’m thinking ahead.’ Juliet seemed now to be attempting a conspiratorial tone. She narrowed one eye as she spoke, a gesture that was halfway to a wink. ‘She’ll be back. If Robert doesn’t make any overtures towards her, which he won’t, it’ll be no time at all before Naomi Jenkins is living in a tent in my garden.’ She laughed, as if this were an amusing rather than a worrying prospect.
    At no point had she taken a step back into the house. She stood right on the threshold. Behind her, in the hall, Simon could see a light-brown ribbed carpet, a red telephone on a wooden table, a scattering of shoes, trainers and boots. There was a mirror, its glass smeared with some sort of grease in the middle, propped up against the wall, which was marked and scratched. To the right of the mirror, a long, thin calendar hung from a drawing pin. There was a picture of Silsford Castle at the top and a line for every day of the month, but no handwriting. Neither Robert nor Juliet had made a note of any appointments.
    ‘Mr Haworth’s lorry’s parked outside,’ said Simon.
    ‘I know.’ Juliet made no attempt to hide her impatience. ‘I said Robert was in Kent. I didn’t say his lorry was.’
    ‘Does he have another car?’
    ‘Yes, a Volvo V40. Which—I’ll tell you now, to save you some unnecessary detective work—is parked out there as well. Robert went to Sissinghurst by train. Driving’s his job. When he’s not working, he tries to avoid it.’
    ‘Do you have a phone number for where he is?’
    ‘No.’ Her face closed down. ‘He’s got his mobile with him.’
    This sounded wrong to Simon. ‘I thought you said he was staying with friends. You haven’t got their number?’
    ‘They’re Robert’s friends, not mine.’ Juliet’s curled lip suggested she wouldn’t have wanted to share them, even if her husband had offered.
    ‘When did you last speak to Robert?’ Simon asked. His contrary streak had kicked in. Because Juliet Haworth was impatient for him to leave, he felt inclined to linger.
    ‘I don’t mean to be rude, but why is that any of your business? Last night, okay? He rang me last night.’
    ‘Naomi Jenkins says he isn’t answering his mobile phone.’
    Juliet seemed to find this news invigorating. Her features became animated and she smiled. ‘She must be spitting feathers. Reliable Robert not returning her calls—whatever next!’
    Simon hated the way jealousy turned people into savages. He’d been that sort of savage himself, more than once; humanity disappeared, was replaced with beasthood. An image of Juliet as a predator, licking her lips while her prey bled to death in front of her, flared in his mind. But perhaps that was unfair, since Naomi Jenkins had admitted she wanted Haworth to leave Juliet and marry her.
    Naomi had written down Robert Haworth’s mobile number yesterday. Simon would leave a message later, ask Haworth to call him back. He’d make sure to inject some man-of-the-world levity into his tone. I’ll pretend I’m Colin Sellers, he thought.
    ‘Do me a favour, will you?’ said Juliet. ‘Tell Naomi that Robert’s got his mobile with him and it’s working fine. I want her to know that he’s got all her messages and is ignoring them.’ She pulled the front door closer to her, restricting Simon’s view of the inside of her house. All he could see now was the small semicircular telephone table immediately behind her.
    He gave her his card. ‘When your husband gets back, tell him to contact me straight away.’
    ‘I’ve already said I will. Now, can I go? Or rather, please can you go?’
    Simon could imagine her bursting into tears as soon as she’d