‘Oh! Yuk!’ says Emily.

‘Don’t be rude, Emily,’ says Mum.

‘Don’t worry, Margaret,’ says Winifred. ‘I can’t be offended. I would like the children to ask anything they like. It’s important for them to learn.’

Tom goes up to her and whispers in her ear, but loud enough so we all hear anyway.

‘Do you have to poo and wee?’

‘No Tom, because I don’t eat or drink.’

Then Emily takes her hand. She looks at it for a moment.

‘Your hand is beautiful,’ she says.

‘Thank you.’

‘Are you very strong?’

‘I am, yes.’

‘Would you win a fight with Spiderman?’ asks Tom.

Winifred laughs. If ever there was something you’d expect to give her true nature away, it would be her laugh. But no. It sounds like a human’s.

‘I don’t know, Tom. He’s a superhero.’

‘How fast can you run?’ asks Emily.

‘Quite fast. Next time you come we’ll have a race.’

‘Now! Let’s do it now!’ they both shout.

‘All right!’ says Winifred, and off they go, round the garden. She lets them win. Which they know and object to.

‘You didn’t try! Again!’

She realises then they want to see her go at full speed, and don’t care about winning the race. They want a show. So she gives them one. They get a head start, and then she sets off. They’re looking over their shoulders, of course. She starts at something like a normal speed – if you’re an Olympic sprinter – and catches them easily. At which point she scoops them up, one under each arm, and, incredibly, accelerates. She goes round the garden at race-horse speed, and arrives back at where we’re sitting. She puts them down gently. Of course, she isn’t out of breath. She has no breath. She isn’t sweating either, though she can, as I know, exude moisture through her skin.

The children are overwhelmed. I expect them to want to go again, but they don’t. Maybe it was too much for them. It was for me. Why does a care home robot need to run so fast? I remember Winifred’s answer from before, about all the unused capabilities on a phone, and I suppose she might have to run in an emergency.

Charlotte and I sit and watch as the children recover their power of speech, and questions come tumbling out. We have questions too, but it seems inappropriate to ask so directly. Such as, how come Mum was a dribbling wreck a few weeks ago, and blind, too? Now look at her. How can it all be explained by superior care and therapy, plus these gizmos they wrote to me about – nanobots? In just a few days? And if they’re so effective, as they obviously must be, when can we all get some? I mean, I wouldn’t mind a bit of internal sprucing up.