14
I did not immediately open my eyes.
Partly because I was experiencing a dislocated feeling of unreality, and I needed to get a grip.
Partly because I was suffering from a strong desire to unburden myself of the breakfast I’d eaten a couple of hours ago (or what was left of it).
There was no way I was going to greet Britain’s most famous magician by throwing up all over her shoes.
‘Hi,’ I finally croaked, and cautiously opened one eye.
Merlin was not bending anxiously — or curiously — over the woman who’d materialised in her living room, as I might have expected. She was on the other side of the room, engaged in something I couldn’t see, because her back was turned to me.
When she made no response to my greeting, I took a moment to take stock of where I had ended up.
It wasn’t a
