‘I didn’t miss a thing. She’s just like a human being.’

‘Like an attractive young woman.’

‘She’s not attractive. She’s – asexual.’

Charlotte looks at me with suspicion, but says nothing, thank goodness. Winifred is approaching us now.

‘Mr Woodruff! I’m happy to see you again, and so soon. Your mum will be thrilled. And even more so as you’ve brought the whole family.’

I smile and shake her hand. I’ve never shaken a carer’s hand before. Now it seems right. It seems required.

‘Yes, hello – Winifred – yes, here we all are – this is my wife, Charlotte, and these are my children, Tom and Emily.’

‘I’m pleased to meet you, Mrs Woodruff. Hello Tom. Hello Emily. I’ll come with you and let’s see if we can find Margaret – Grandma.’

Charlotte doesn’t shake Winifred’s hand, but nods and smiles faintly. The children, though, act as if they’re toddlers. They’re not. They’re seven and nine, but they both shrink back and grip my hand tight, staring at Winifred all the time. They’d got over this shyness with strangers years ago, I thought.

Winifred leads the way into the home. As soon as her back’s turned, I feel a tug on my hand from Emily. I look down, and she pulls me closer so she can whisper.

‘Daddy, she’s strange! I don’t like her.’

‘Shhh, Em, don’t say that. She’s very good at caring for Grandma.’

Tom tugs my other hand.

‘Dad, she’s kind of weird. Like… like… I don’t know. Weird.’

‘OK, don’t say anything. We’ll talk about it later. All right?’

They both nod.

Have they seen something I missed last time? Felt something? We haven’t said anything to them about Winifred. I wonder about Charlotte. I want to know what she thinks before she hears the children’s reaction. It’ll taint her opinion, and I want this all to be OK.

We walk into the interior of the home. There are residents dotted about in various chairs, and visitors sitting with some of them. It all feels livelier than last time. There wasn’t much conversation then.

A scream cuts through the chatter, and everyone turns towards where it came from, down one of the corridors leading into the remote regions of the home. Last time, nobody paid any attention to the random shouts and wails from various quarters. Now even the residents take notice. One of them, who looks as old as time, gets out of his chair and makes a move towards the sound.

‘Dad! Sit down!’ says the middle-aged woman sitting next to him, putting her hand on his arm.

‘Something’s wrong! I must go and help.’

‘No, Dad, it’s not up to you. Leave it to the carers. The Helpers. They know what they’re doing.’