Swish! The door opens and I step outside. I’m back in England—again (good thing I’m learning to understand the accent), but for a change, nothing too extraordinary is in the air. There’s no smell of gunfire, no boom of cannons, and I’m not standing in a dungeon, but in a pretty garden with quite a few weeds. Oh, hang on. There’s somebody there, sitting in the middle of the lawn, with his head in his hands. What can be the matter?
The man looks right at me without seeming to notice me.
“Ahem” I say.
“Oh. Oh hello” the man returns my handshake. “Isaac Newton. And you are?”
“Turnabout. Professor Turnabout” I repeat.
“And you’re from…”
Oh dear this might get awkward. “Oh from around ” I say trying to keep my voice casual.
Isaac taps his head for a minute. “But I seem to think that you just came down from the sky. Did I see something like that?”
Oh no. Now I’ve had it. If I blow my cover Mishpacha Junior will fire me.
“Yes yes straight down from the sky” I say.
“Like an apple?”
“An apple?” What can the man be going on about?
