The Unpretenders - Chapter 13

Shortly after Isobel had gone downstairs to make breakfast, I suddenly heard an almighty thud, followed by a series of smaller bangs and other anomalous sounds. My curiosity peaked, I left the bedroom and strolled out onto the landing. After pausing for a moment, I concluded that the commotion, whatever it was, had ceased. Still, I proceeded to peer inquisitively over the banister, into the foyer below. At this point I became aware of Isobel's unmistakable voice. She was clearly protesting about something that was happening, but exactly what she was saying, I couldn't quite make out. The vociferous tone of her voice, in any case, prompted me to go downstairs.

Upon reaching the second floor landing I immediately heard a cacophony of shrieks, screams and foul exclamations, all of which appeared to be emanating from Isobel. Alarmed, at this point, I called out to let her know that I was coming.

Then, after reaching the entrance hall, I made my way into the drawing room, where a broken vase and an upturned chair made me feel sick to my stomach. Clearly the altercation had become violent.

Isobel, meanwhile, had fallen silent; and I was becoming increasingly panic-stricken. In fact, I almost feared looking for her... or what remained of her. Had my only friend in the world been murdered?

I didn't have long to wait for the answer: No. For the little imp suddenly came bounding around the corner, squealing and giggling with delight. It appeared that Julian had put on his mask and was playfully chasing her around the house. They both then hurtled passed me as if I wasn't even there.

Relieved, to put it mildly, I sat down and waited for the frivolity to end. Julian then returned, minus his mask, with a rambunctious Isobel slung over his shoulder. "I think she'd make a good mascot," he said, breathless from exertion.

"You broke a vase," I pointed out.

Julian didn't seem to be concerned, however. "It was only Ming," he said, returning Isobel to the floor. "Whereas this little madam is truly priceless."

"Why, thank you, kind sir," she said, affectedly.

I went in search of a dustpan and brush.

* * *

Later that morning I decided to come clean and admit to Julian that we had both run away from home. All three of us were in the kitchen at the time, drinking an experimental concoction that Izzy had just made. Patiently we awaited his response to my disclosure, not merely with bated breath, but with straws in mouths... and bums on stools.

"I know," he said, finally.

"Really? How?"

"Your suitcases kind of gave it away, if I'm honest. That, and the fact that you put in a request for asylum."

"But..."

"But why didn't I saying anything?"

"Yes."

"Because I see you as running towards home, rather than away from it."

"But..."

"But shouldn't I have phoned your parents?"

"Stop interrupting, Julian! That's not what I was going to say."

"Sorry."

"The point is," I explained to him, "we obviously want to stay here, but we can't see how that would be possible, under the circumstances."

"You want to stay here. I am happy for you to stay here. What's the problem?"

"The problem is that if we let people know where we are, they'll take us away. And if we don't let people know where we are, you could potentially get into a lot of trouble. And then they'll take us away anyway."

Julian shook his head. "You're doing what humans do best, Sophie: complicating everything. Simply align with the One and all consequences will work in your favour, even if they don't appear to at first. But don't just take my word for it. Test it out for yourself. Observe what happens. Follow the threads of your actions."

"But how do I align with the One?"

"Love, and do what you will."

"But how can I be sure that I'm acting out of love, and not merely deluding myself?"

"If you see the other as yourself, that is love. If you see yourself as the One, that is wisdom. If your actions proceed from this understanding, that is alignment. If, however, you are acting from a place of separation, and limitation, or if you are in fear of the consequences of your actions, then..."

"Hang on, I want to write this down!"

"I'm not telling you anything that you don't already know, Sophie. Again, test it out for yourself."

"How? By simply staying here?"

"Yes, if that decision is coming from a place of alignment."

"But for how long can we stay here?"

"That depends on how much bliss you can you handle."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously! This place is just a glimpse, after all, of the peace and pleasure that you claim to be seeking. So if you tire of it, what does that say about your readiness to leave this world altogether?"

"Told you," said Isobel. "It's a test."

"In a way," he confirmed.

"Then where is everyone else?" I enquired. "And how did they do?"

Julian seemed to find this question rather amusing. "Liberation means precisely that, Sophie. You will learn to create your own happiness, in time."

"But who decides if and when we pass the test?"

"You're essentially being challenged to make that determination for yourselves. There's no judgement here. My only task is to expose your limits. That is to say, your tolerance for the good life."

"And how is that accomplished?"

"Well, is there anything that would make your stay here more enjoyable? Something that you've always wanted, perhaps?"

"I can't think of anything."

"Then try harder."

"A horse, maybe? I've always wanted a horse."

"Then you shall have three horses. Whichever breeds you prefer. Thoroughbreds, Arabians, Friesians... It's entirely up to you. I'll have stables built, of course; there's plenty of room. And I'll hire you a personal riding instructor. Oh, and a groom, if you need one."

"Seriously?"

"Seriously! What about you, Izzy, my dear? What would make your stay here more enjoyable?"

Isobel rubbed her hands together. "I just want some chickens," she said, grinning. "You know, for the eggs."

"Then you shall have the finest chickens money can buy."

"No, just regular chickens," she insisted, "otherwise they might start laying golden eggs."

It all seemed a little unbelievable. "What's the catch?" I asked.

"I've already told you. The catch, if you want to call it that, is in having your limitations exposed, and perhaps realising that you need this world, just as it is. And then where would you be?"

"That won't ever happen," I assured him.

"We'll see."