The woman at Victoria station was waiting for her son. Robert Hathall was one minute late, but this quietly pleased the woman. Other people’s faults often pleased her. MrsHathallremembered the only time that she had met her daughter in law. It was in a flat at Earl’s Court. Angela had described Robert’s fist wife, Eileen, as a greedy cow. MrsHathall had immediately waked to see Angela again But here she was, going to Kingsmarkham. And Robert was getting nervous. Angela’s been cleaning the house to make it nice for, he said MrsHathall wanted to say, A good wife always has a clean house, not just when a visitor is coming. But she said nothing.Is that a joke he asked Becuce it’s not funny. He was looking around the car park for Angela and the car. A cruel smaile pilled at the corners of MrsHathall’s mouth. Your wife’s not nere, she said. It doesn’t matter, said Robert. It’s not far to walk. It was unusual for him to be so calm, she thought. Usually he became angry when his moter was rode about Angela. Then they would have an argument. But not today. It was a beautiful September evening. The sun was warm, and the gardens were bright with the last flowers of summer. But MrsHathall noticed none of this. She was thinking about Angela-the woman who broke up a happy marriage.MrsHathall climbed the stairs,checking for dust. There was none. And her bedroom was as clean as the rest of the house. A gilrlay face-down on the bed. MrsHathall smiled coldly. Robert’s wife was asleep, perhaps drunk. She walked across to the girl’s shoulder to shake it. Then she stopped. The girl’s neck was cold, and there was an ugly purple mark on it. She was dead. She waited. She was shaking now. Then he called out from above. His voice was quite calm. Phone the police, Mother Tell them what’s happened.