Page 122 of Shroom for Improvement

“Happens every time,” John said from across the dining room. “Every year before the summer and winter solstices the magic sort of dries up and the grass goes all brown, and the food gets”—he made ableurghsound and stuck his tongue out—“and the soil dries up. It’ll be fine in a few days though. Once old matey boy here does the rhizome ritual, order will be restored. Everything will be well again.”

My gaze fell outside the window, to the browning lawns. It had been hot and dry recently, but it made sense the dying land was connected to the house’s waning magic. The Wi-Fi and phone signal were non-existent. Luckily, I had already booked my taxi to Agaricus Station, my train tickets to Onyxshire and then to Remy, and had RSVPed by email to Dr Sorrel.

Claude puffed out a long sigh. I knew he was panicking about learning the lightning magic, but I wasn’t worried.

If I was being completely honest with myself, I was kind of hoping he wouldn’t. Because if he couldn’t learn it, I’d have no other option but to stay behind and help him. We’d created the lightning glamour together before, so at least there was a plan B.

It would take away my choice.“Sorry, Dr Sorrel, Claude needs me more.”

I wanted him to need me.

I wanted it to ease the guilt I felt about leaving. Which was absurd. I shouldn’t feel guilty about leaving. I was doing the right thing. For everyone. Well, everyone except Claude. And I was following my dreams.

“But I can’t hear Jenny anymore,” Claude said, pulling me out of my reverie.

John shrugged. “That always happens, too. Your father used to leave it until the very last second to arrive at Stinkhorn Manor. That way, the house would already have gone quiet and he wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

I wish I knew what Claude was thinking... feeling about this whole situation. Me leaving, him staying, being in two different countries, thousands of miles apart. Every time I asked him about it, he would come back with,“But you must go to Remy. You belong there.”Or some variation on the same line. I was too much of a coward to ask him how he felt about me. I wanted him to beg me to stay.

I would. In a heartbeat.

“Can I ask you something?” Claude spared me a look, one I couldn’t recognise, making my heart skitter all over the place. Had he somehow known what I was thinking? He pushed his chair back and crossed the room to where John was sitting. I guessed the question wasn’t for me. “What was my father like?”

That caught me off guard. John seemed to have no reaction.

“He was...” John thought for a moment and Claude sat opposite him. “I don’t know if you’ll want to hear this, but he was very well respected and well, rather beloved. He was funny. Drier than a mummy’s ass crack. Had me in stitches every time he visited. He was generous too, always brought gifts from the far reaches of the Eight and a Half Kingdoms. And he looked justlike you, or rather, you look just like him, except he had a big, bushy, copper beard.”

“Did... he ever talk about me?” Claude asked.

I sucked in a breath and drew a chair up beside Claude. Under the table I reached my fingers across to Claude’s, but I didn’t take his hand. I only wanted to let him know I was there for him. If he needed me.

He didn’t hesitate to wrap his fingers around mine.

“Often,” John said, and both Claude and I gasped. That was not what I’d expected him to say.

“Really?” Claude said, in as much disbelief as I was.

“Have you ever read any of his books?” John asked.

Claude shook his head. “I... couldn’t bring myself to.” He looked at me. “Have you?”

“Yes, all of them,” I admitted.

“So, you know why he was always away from the house. Why he was on his quests. You know what he was searching for.” It wasn’t phrased as a question, but it felt like I was being tested on my knowledge.

Of course I had read Angus Stinkhorn’s books:The Adventures of a Grouchy Fae, The Further Adventures of a Grouchy Fae, The Discoveries of a Grouchy Fae, and Yet Even More Adventures of a Grouchy Fae Despite the Fact You’re Probably Bored Stiff of Them Already.But I’d read them long before I’d known how important his son would become to me.

“He was looking for glamour,” I said, keeping my voice as quiet as possible.

But the books had never detailed the specifics of the glamour, or whether Angus had been successful in his search.

“Your father was looking for a way to keep the house alive, without the need for the ritual. He didn’t want to pass on his burdens to his son. He didn’t want you to be tied to such a restrictive life as he was, as his father before him.”

“Oh,” Claude said, nodding his head so slowly I wasn’t sure it could even be considered nodding.

“Listen, I’m not trying to justify his shitty behaviour as a father, or husband. I’m only telling you what you ought to know. He never found what he was looking for. And here you are, stuck in the same position as he was.”

Claude ran his thumb over the edge of the table. He was still nodding. “How long have you lived here, John?”

---