Page 141 of Shroom for Improvement

Because now I felt only an overwhelming sadness for her.

“I know you can’t tell me about the ritual, but can you tell me how Sonny is related to it?” I asked. It felt like my final stab.

Mrs Ziegler thought for a moment. “Do you remember when I first met you by the ley lines?”

I nodded... Brought back the memory of Mrs Z calling my mother a cock sleeve, of eating all of Mr Dupont’s bees, her hand flickering in the sunlight. In real life, she laughed.

“I saw him in your thoughts... Sonny. He’s not vital to the ritual, but... I saw the potential there. I told Genevieve... Jenny about him. Made sure the house knew who to summon.”

“Oh,” was all I could say. So I had Mrs Z to blame-slash-thank for falling in love.

“You’re welcome,” she said with a laugh. “I meant it when I said I know everything. Nobody can tell you what the ritual is. You need to find someone who canshowyou.”

“But I thought—”

“Claude, come on. Surely you know already, nothing is as it seems here. There’s a grotto, northeast of the forests beyond The Night Cap. You will find them there. You will need this, as payment.” Mrs Ziegler unzipped the front of her bumbag and retrieved a fist-sized, pearlized cowrie shell. It was beautiful.

“Wait, them? Who do I need to find?”

But I already knew. And I was already running at full pelt towards the whereabouts of the grotto.

The Earth Bells.

I searched for an hour—two, three—it was impossible to tell. I hadn’t worn a wrist or pocket watch this morning and had left my useless phone on the coffee table. The sun’s position in the sky was my only guide. But here, in the midst of the Stinkhorn forests, the canopy was so thick, I often found myself walking for several minutes before I spotted a clearing large enough to catch a glimpse of the sun. Going by my estimate, it was midafternoon. Three maybe. Possibly four.

There was still no sign of the grotto, though I imagined it would be pretty well hidden. The Earth Bells seemed to be a secretive species. I had lived at Stinkhorn Manor for two monthsnow and I’d never seen so much as a glimpse of tiny mushroom folk. Not a strange little noise, not a footprint—did they even have feet?—not one sign they also lived here.

I began marking trees—every fourth or fifth trunk—with the juice of some unidentifiable purple berries I’d found, so if I’d already been through this patch, I would be able to tell at a glance. And I continued walking.

That compass would probably have come in very handy right about now. I also regretted not bringing any drinks or snacks. I paused again to check the sky, now cloudless and blue. The conditions were at least in my favour, even if time wasn’t. At the very latest, it was early evening. Five, at a push.

I spotted a stream ahead, and I quenched my thirst by scooping handfuls of water to my mouth.

And then I heard it. A high-pitched squeak from somewhere behind me. I whipped my head around. There was rustling, but I couldn’t see anything.

“Hello?” I called out.

No response.

I felt like a fool. “Hello, Earth Bells?”Please don’t be a bear or a lion. Or Mr Dupont.

More rustling, but I saw nothing.

“Please, I need your help.”

Still nothing.

“I have a gift.” I held out my hand, palm splayed, cowrie shell in the centre.

A squeak. Then another. Then ten, twenty, thirty more squeaks, and a mushroom shuffled along the forest floor in my direction.

A fly agaric, to be precise. A typical “toadstool” type. It was about twelve centimetres tall, with a wide, white-dotted red cap, and frilly white gills. I slapped a hand over my mouth to trapmy surprised squawk as the tiny mushroom folk waddled closer towards me.

It tilted its cap up and smiled.

“Oh,” I said. I was still on my knees after my drink, so I spun around to it. It had a little face and arms and legs, and was absolutely beguiling. “Hello, are you an Earth Bell?”

It blinked at me. Its tiny cheeks turned pink. Then, in the distance, I saw red polka-dotted caps popping up from everywhere.

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