Page 56 of Shroom for Improvement

He narrowed his eyes at the pee-bale, then homed in on my hands, which I realised I’d braced against his coat lapels.

“There’s a picnic-type area through here, actually. In this little courtyard.” I led Claude through a one-person-wide alleyway into an informal, dusty five-by-five-metre space. The rendered walls of the property rose on each side, but somehow sunlight penetrated to the bottom and illuminated a pink wrought-iron bench. I took a seat on one end and Claude sat on the other.

“I’ve been here a week and you’ve been here for approximately twenty-nine hours and already you know of places I don’t,” he said.

I didn’t know if his statement required a response. I answered anyway. “I found it yesterday, during my explorations. Found a lot of cool little places tucked away, but weirdly, I haven’t been able to find the ones inside the house again. What did it say? Jenny, sorry.”

“A few things. Firstly.” He held up one finger like he was counting them out. “It cannot hear our thoughts. It said, and I quote, ‘I do not read minds, only souls.’”

“Read souls?”

“Those were my exact words. It said it knows every soul that steps foot or hoof or tentacle on its soil. That it can ‘see’ someone’s deepest desires and drives, and who they are as a person. But it cannot tell what you’re thinking, only what you’re feeling.”

“That’s actually fascinating,” I said. That’d be why it provided Claude with a smokeless smoking den and jigsaw puzzles, and me with a lab and an allotment and a pee-bale.

I must crave pee-bales at a soul-deep level.

“On the subject of souls,” Claude continued. “It said yours is pure, and mine... well, I have some work to do, apparently.” He turned his head from me and scratched at a spot below the brim of his hat.

I didn’t enjoy seeing Claude uncomfortable like this, but what could I say or do? I couldn’t read souls like Jenny the house, I had no way to counter this.

“What else did it say?” I said instead.

“Besides the soul reading, I asked it if it knew what the ritual was. It said yes. I asked if the answer could be found in the library. It said‘maaaaaaybe,’like that. I asked if it could show us the way to the library, and it said ‘in time.’”

“So, what, we just wait for it to show us the library? Or do we try out other stuff in the meantime?”

Claude shrugged. Defeated.

“I know a few mushroom-adjacent folk tales, so I guess we could start with those,” I suggested.

“Sure. Feels wrong to do nothing. I’m trying to save Jenny’s life here, and it won’t even attempt to help me.” He paused, looked up towards the courtyard walls. “Yeah, you keep telling me, ‘if Sonny and I just opened our eyes we’d figure it out.’ Yada yada. You could at least tell us if we’re getting close.” A pause. I concluded he was talking to the house and waiting for it to respond. “Exactly, like a hotter-colder scale.”

After Claude didn’t speak for a while, I asked, “What did it say, then?”

“It said no to the hotter-colder scale.”

I nodded. Wetted my lips. “So it can see us out here?”

Claude paused again. “Yes. It saw you peeing.” He leaned forward and looked through the alleyway to my pee-bale, perfectly framed in the gaps between the walls. “Thank you for not letting me sit on that.”

Well, I didn’t care if the house saw me peeing. I mean, I couldn’t stop myself from peeing altogether.

“What about the third thing we talked about?” I asked Claude, lowering my voice, because now I knew the house was listening.

He stared at me. Pursed his lips together. We both understood the importance of that particular question. A man had needs and urges, and those needs and urges required absolute privacy.

“There is nowhere on Stinkhorn land besides the B&B where the house cannot see us, and there are no free rooms at the B&B.”

“Damn,” I said. “It’s fine. I can just...” A bubble of nervous laughter escaped my throat. “Not do that for two months. I’m sure I’ve gone longer in the past.”

Claude nodded his agreement, but wouldn’t meet my eye. His freckles glinted in the one beam of sunlight that reached the bottom of the courtyard. After a few moments, he looked up at the walls again. “No, I won’t. Absolutely not,” he said to the house.

To. The. House.

It struck me then just how odd the whole situation was. Giggles began bubbling up in my chest. I swallowed them down.

“I’m not telling him that. Please, leave Sonny out of it.”

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