Page 84 of Shroom for Improvement

“Ooh,” I said, racing forward to have a look. The room was about five metres by five metres and had a lovely, steaming heap of dung in the centre. Next to it, a shovel and a barrow. “Thank you, Jenny,” I whispered.

“It says you’re more than welcome,” Claude said back, smiling from ear to ear.

Mr Cope cleared his throat, pulling Claude and me out of the moment. I hadn’t realised we’d become involved in a moment until we were on the other side. “I don’t know about you, Cam, but I reckon we’ve got a pretty decent feel for the place. How about we head back to Agaricus and check into our rooms?”

Mr Greene looked about as dejected as one man could be. His shoulders were hunched, his mouth drooped at the corners, his eyes were sleepy and red like he was stoned, and his tail had wrapped itself around his thigh. “Two centuries,” he muttered to himself. He handed Claude a business card. “I will write up my report and get back to you with some estimations. Might take a little longer than I initially assumed. In the meantime, give me a call if you have any questions.”

“Yes, I will do,” Claude said. “Let me show you gentlemen to the exit.” We all turned one hundred and eighty degrees to find the front doors already before us. “Ah, here it is.”

“Who’s hungry?” said Willow, the moment Mr Greene and Mr Cope’s sports car pulled off the gravel drive of Stinkhorn Manor.

“Starving, actually,” said Claude.

We walked to the guest house’s dining room, and nothing more was said about either of the visitors until Willow brought out our dinner. Tagliatelle pasta with a creamy black-truffle sauce. Claude had the same.

“You guys are so weirdly attuned sometimes,” Willow said before disappearing back into the kitchen.

“Doesn’t it feel slightly cannibalistic to eat mushrooms?” I asked. The glass and a half of wine I’d drunk before my food arrived was making my mind feel soft and happy.

Claude laughed. “I guess so? Is that weird? I really like them though. They’re delicious.”

“I love mushrooms,” I said. “I could eat them all day.”

“Yes,” he said, his voice suddenly breathy. His gaze landed on my mouth, lips parted, tongue dipped out to wet them.

My stomach jolted, and my dick twitched. Damn, just from a look.

“Um...” I swallowed. I needed to change the trajectory of the conversation, or I was about to get another infallible boner. “So, do you think you’ll sell the manor?”

Claude tucked his napkin into his collar and picked up his knife and fork. “I can speak more freely here in the guest house than the main house. Jenny can’t hear as well. Honestly? I’m not sure what to do. I think the idea of selling has merits. I could pay off my mortgage in Remy. I could continue working on the trains and take periodic vacations to Stinkhorn Manor to perform the ritual. Provided we figure out what it is—”

“We will,” I interrupted.

“But I feel like that’s something Jenny would never permit. Unless, of course, we could get its approval on the tenants beforehand, but I also don’t much fancy having Mr Greene as a business partner.”

“The man gives me the ick,” I said.

“Serious ick vibes.” He laughed, and I felt the warmth rolling off him.

“Would you want to move back to Remy? Why not stay here?”

Claude’s elbow slipped from the edge of the table, his fork clanged against the side of his plate. “I hadn’t considered it. What would I do here all day? What would I do for money? What...” He lowered his voice. “If we don’t figure out the ritual, what then?”

“We will,” I reiterated. “Do you like it here, though?”

“I do. I actually love it here. I’ve had more fun in the last three weeks here than the past three decades in Remy. But that’s only because you’re—” He stopped himself before he could finish the sentence.

Because you’re here.I would have bet everything I owned on those being the words he was thinking. My heart began hammering so loudly in my chest I was sure even Oggy and Willow would have heard it from the kitchen.

What did Claude mean? That the reason he wanted to go back to Remy was because, once we’d discovered the ritual, I’d no longer be at Stinkhorn Manor? I would return to the city, and my life, and my job. I’d hopefully get my paper published and begin work on the follow-up paper. And Claude would return to the U-Rail. Would I still see him twice a day?

Would that be enough?

I wasn’t sure how we’d stumbled into the conversation, or how far either of us was willing to take it. But my pulse was racing and my stomach felt as though a thousand butterflies hadburst simultaneously from their cocoons, and part of me needed to know if this could go any further.

My voice wobbled. “Claude... maybe once we’ve figured this whole mess out and we’re both back in Remy, would you... would you like to meet up? Maybe?”

“Like date?”

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