Her return to the big house was swift, there was no circling of the gardens, opening of the gates, or even a meeting with Icarayus, whom she was beginning to miss. What Isabella was beginning to realise was that a clear and simple need for guidance was always answered with access to the big house, but a build up fear or misery tended to prevent it.
So she arrived in the hall and looked around, a different page was open on the big desk and blue and green images filled the page, the scent of cardamom filled the air, but the kitchen door was closed and the invisible hand led her this time to the staircase. The chandelier had turned, she noticed, to reveal different planets and the central star was very bright. She felt better just by looking at it.
She was nervous about walking up the stairs, she had never ventured there before and yet it seemed to be the only route open to her. She waited hoping Simmi would open his door and provide some words of reassurance, or that Jonathan would come out of his basement to lead her forward. Neither of these things happened, so she was either brave and went up alone, or turned around and went back home.
With each step her heart beat faster, she was walking up into the universe of the chandelier and although she was sure she was imagining this, she was getting hotter, as if she was walking up into the sun. She kept on walking, clutching the iron rail with her hand and listening for the slightest sound of an irate person heading in her direction.
The stairs themselves were the softest marble she had ever seen, not that marble can be soft, she knew that well enough, but it was smooth and gave the impression of having been walked on thousands of times. ‘A thousand tiny feet,’ she thought, ‘all climbing to the stars to the great unknown with their hearts in their mouths.’
There were landings on which large lit crystals stood, like sentries. She could see one on the next landing that was bright yellow, the size of a small child, with sheer sides cut like butter and a soft, waxy surface as if a thousand hands had smoothed its surface over the ages. At its apex it was more translucent, but at its base it was deep, opaque, mysterious and had the energy of the setting sun over a sandy beach.
She was drawn to it and bent to stroke its surface, as gently as she would have approached a stranger’s dog. She stroked its warm waxy surface and felt it yield. She could have sworn it stroked her back.
As she stood up, walked away and up the stairs she was totally calm, her heart anxious no more, and quietly curious. The corridor that she was being guided along was all the shades of yellow, from pale orange at its tip, through deep gold at its centre, to pale gold at the entrance where she stood. The energy seemed to deepen with the colour. All the doors were closed and opaque, although movement was apparent behind them. A flash of turquoise here, a shimmer of green there, a spiral of pink revolving upwards, a deep hum, the sound of laughter, all emanated from behind the closed doors.
As she was wondering where to go a child appeared from a room behind a deep gold door, emblazoned with seashells. He beckoned to her and she followed without their being any resistance from the invisible hand. She entered the cave like opening and found him sitting in a large chair in a playroom that was carved from the most beautiful gold citrine.
A huge train set encircled the walls and there were paints and crayons everywhere, it was as if an entire life was laid out before her in paintings, made from every material, even sand, sculptures made from clay, bronze, silver, gold, crystal and stained glass. Perched against one of his windows was a stain glass image of a woman on her knees, her arms outstretched, before a blue sea. Her mane of red hair was thrown back in torment and the sky was darkening from one corner, making the picture seem very brooding. Isabella wondered if this was the work of the young man and why he would create such a gloomy scene.
In the corner, as she had come to expect, was the large book opened at a page coloured almost entirely with gold. But the page was only half filled. She looked at the child curiously, not sure if someone else, like Raven was about to appear and take over for what could she say to one so young?
The child beckoned to a rocking horse and asked her to sit, which she did with some discomfort. He laughed and jumped up from the chair and beckoned for her to take his seat. He sat on the rocking horse and looked at her with a seriousness that belied his years.
He had blond curly hair and an olive skin, he was beautiful with the bluest eyes she had ever seen. He said nothing.
“I am Isabella” she said, “ is this your room?”
“I am Japeth and yes, it is my room and you are welcome. Raven likes it here and he talks about you a lot. He misses you, you know. You should visit more often.”
“I will try to do that, but I am not always sure if I am welcome.”
“You are always welcome, would you like some mango juice?”
“Thank you.”
Simmi appeared with two wooden goblets of mango juice, and a plate of cinnamon biscuits.
‘All very sniffable’ Isabella thought as she caught the fragrance of the fresh mango from the goblet and drank it down without waiting to be polite.
“How can I help you today?” asked Japeth.
“I am not sure you can,” she replied, “why do you think I need help?”
“Because you are always connected to us and we watch and wait to see if we can help you bear the burden of life and death. We decide who should step forward and offer to help, but of course we cannot step forward unless you invite us to and we cannot help unless you want us to.”
Isabella realised that she had indeed come seeking help and so this was her opportunity. But a young child, what use could he be? She thought to herself.
“I might be of no use at all Isabella, but I know a great deal about loss because you see I lost my life. I was fourteen months old when my father walked with me into the sea and we drowned together, me clutching at his chest and him sobbing into my hair. I would not have let go of him even if I had been able to, for I loved him so much and he could not bear his own death without me, so together we entered our own big houses.
"When you enter the big house you get to see, and experience, the pain of those left behind. I could see and feel the despair of my mother, my grandfather and aunt. They were all in deep mourning already for the death that caused my own father to take his life and so this double tragedy threatened to overwhelm them.
"For them the loss was of love, the fact that I would never grow into a man and take my place in the world and the loss of a husband and much loved son. So many plans and expectations were halted in that one brief moment. To them it felt as if their future was suddenly a chasm, instead of a pathway, and that any step forward would end up in their annihilation.
"But their loss also forced them to turn their attention elsewhere, to what remained. Their other siblings, demands of the business and their own safety in a country that was in turmoil. My grandfather had to flee the country of his birth and set up life elsewhere at an age when most men would be thinking of taking life easy. My mother had to turn her attention to my siblings and learn how to live in society as a widow.
"Both would have preferred their paths to be different. My mother loved my father very much and he broke her heart by being reckless with his life and the life of her son. But love could not bring him back so she had to learn not to be over protective of her other children and to learn to trust that tragedy would not strike twice.
"This she did over time and through her learning was able to help other women, for at that point in time the death of young children was quite common, but no less painful than it is today. But almost because it was so common society’s expectation then was that children were replaceable and that grief was self-indulgent. My mother felt differently she knew that each child was an individual and that that moment and that relationship could never be replaced. She also believed that the soul of that child was everlasting and would continue elsewhere, if it were free to travel onwards. So, to her, grief was acceptable. It was part of accepting the loss, of feeling the pain of being separated from a loved one and yet of letting that loved one go before turning your face to what remained within your life.
"My Grandfather was always an active and influential man within his own faith. Although his faith was tested and there were moments when self-pity threatened to overwhelm him he did set sail and set up a new church in a new country. He moved from warmth, wealth and comfort to a cold and much less luscious landscape, where his welcome was uncertain. Even nature itself seemed to turn against him for he and his family were dashed against the rocks and forced to enter their new country bedraggled, scared and with no possessions. There were times especially when the cold entered his bones that self doubt and even self pity set in, but he continued with his mission in life and drew strength, not so much from the loss, but in overcoming it.”
Isabella was quiet and moved by his story and by his depth of compassion and understanding. She was transfixed by the light that shone from his eyes and she felt that she was indeed in the company of a very old soul.
“I am not sure that I have overcome the loss of Raven. I am starting to believe that he is not that far away and that I can reach him if I need to, but Danny, his friend and now mine does not seem to be able to move forward and it is him that I worry about.”
“Danny has been a source of concern for Raven as well. Raven has struggled to accept that it was no coincidence that Danny was with him when he passed over, for Danny has a great need to open to the Arcania, like you have. But Danny is lost in his imagination at the moment and has taken to himself a sense of responsibility that is not his to take, just like Raven feels responsible right now for Danny’s pain.
"There is a deep bond between Danny and Raven that goes back a very long way and so the loss of Raven is like a knife in Danny’s heart. But he will learn from this loss in time if he can accept it and begin to appreciate what it has opened him up to. Already he has opened up to what you both call the big house, even if they are different, and so there is value in this experience for him, he just cannot see it yet.”
“What can I do to help Danny?”
“Be there for him, but do not act as Raven’s replacement, even in part, for that would stop him learning for himself.”
“But drink is his main replacement.”
“Then you have to choose your moment to step back, or to step forward, you cannot compete with drink, no one can.”
“You say step forward, what would I be stepping forward to?”
“Just to being there, to maintain the link with Danny, as a fellow traveller and, when he is ready, to share some of your understanding of what your grief has opened up for you.”
“Should we be girlfriend and boyfriend?”
“That is entirely up to you, your souls have met because they are united in a pattern of learning at the moment. Whether you feel that is the basis for a relationship I do not know, but I would ask yourself what Danny sees when he looks at you, a vibrant and beautiful young woman who understands more about life and death than most, or a facsimile of Raven in a woman’s body? In my experience what can seem comforting at the time of loss can turn out to be disappointing later on. But that does not mean, with the right foundations, that you and Danny would not be very happy together.”
“You have given me a lot to think about, thank you. What’s that spinning in the corner?” she asked pointing to a spiral spinning in space with no visible means of support, or energy source.
“It is the spiral of life, Isabella, I am watching over a particular soul that is in difficulty at the moment and as long as the spiral keeps spinning at a steady speed I know they are managing to fulfil their task.”
“What keeps it spinning?”
“Purpose, Isabella, purpose, love and light.”
Somewhere in the distance a bell tolled, a bell Isabella had heard before, and Japeth got up to leave. He bowed slightly before her, smiled and placed his cheek next to hers. She wanted to cry he was so gentle, so young and yet so wise, so innocent and yet so worldly.
“Until next time.” And he was gone.
His disappearance was so sudden that she half expected the staircase to have disappeared too and for her to be stranded somewhere up in space, but no it was all there, but her descent was a lot quicker than her assent and she found herself wondering about the tolling bell. The bell she realised that was hanging on the iron gates.
