Seth Washwell had always considered himself to be something of an expert on the natural world. This was largely because he had once found a book entitled ‘The Wonders of Nature,’ which he had read almost as far as page twenty-seven before losing interest.

It was therefore with considerable excitement that he burst into the bar of The Squid and Teapot one damp October afternoon, carrying a large wicker basket.

“Look what I’ve found!” he announced, placing the basket upon the counter. Proudly he removed the cloth covering its contents, to reveal a collection of fungi of various shapes, sizes and colours. Some were recognisably mushrooms. Others resembled objects that had been left in a damp cellar for several years.

“There’s enough here for a proper feast,” said Seth.

Philomena regarded the collection with suspicion.

“Are you sure they’re edible?”

“Of course.”

“How do you know?”

Seth hesitated.

“Well, they’re mushrooms, aren’t they?”

“That doesn’t mean you can eat them.”

“Everything’s edible at least once,” commented Reggie Upton, who had been sitting nearby with a glass of something medicinal. He leaned  across and examined the contents of the basket.

“Dashed interesting specimens, though,” he observed. “Some of these could be quite poisonous, by Jove.”

Seth looked alarmed. Philomena removed the basket from the counter.

“Well, nobody is eating any of them until we know what they are.”

Seth sighed.

“You’re taking all the fun out of mushroom hunting,” he said.

The following morning Seth returned to the woods, determined to vindicate his reputation as a naturalist.

He had not gone far when he came upon the most extraordinary fungus he had ever seen.

It stood in a small clearing beneath an ancient oak, rising from the damp earth like an enormous umbrella. Its cap was a rich purple, flecked with silver spots, and its thick stalk was the colour of old ivory. It was easily four feet high.

Seth walked around it.

“Well, I’ll be…”

He prodded it cautiously with a stick.

Nothing happened.

He prodded it again, and the mushroom gave a faint shudder. Seth stepped backwards.

After a moment he decided that he must have imagined it. There was clearly no possibility of fitting the specimen into his basket, so he hurried back to the Squid and Teapot to enlist assistance.

Within an hour a small expedition had assembled, consisting of Seth, Reggie, Philomena and Tenzin. When they reached the clearing, Seth stopped.

“That’s odd.”

“What is?” asked Philomena.

“It was over there.”

He pointed towards the oak.

The mushroom was now several yards away, standing beside a fallen log.

“Perhaps you remembered wrongly, old chap,” suggested Reggie.

“I didn’t.”

“Then perhaps there are two.”

“There aren’t.”

Reggie walked around the mushroom, rubbing his chin.

“An exceedingly rare specimen, I shouldn’t wonder…” He unsheathed his sword stick. 

“Perhaps a small sample…”

As he approached, the mushroom moved.

There was no other word for it.

The great purple cap tilted slightly, the stalk bent, and the entire fungus shifted sideways by several inches.

Startled, Reggie dropped his stick.

“Did that thing just move?” asked Philomena.

Seth beamed.

“I told you it was special.”

The mushroom shuddered again.

“Well,” said Philomena, “whatever it is, we’re leaving it alone.”

They returned to the inn, with Seth repeatedly looking back over his shoulder.

The next morning the mushroom was standing outside the Squid and Teapot.

Philomena discovered it when she opened the door to sweep the steps.

For several moments she regarded the enormous purple cap in silence. Then she closed the door. A moment later she opened it again. The mushroom was still there.

“Rhys!”

Her husband appeared from the kitchen.

“What is it?”

“There’s a mushroom outside.”

“Well, it is autumn.”

“It’s four feet tall, and it wasn’t there yesterday.”

“Perhaps it’s grown.”

“Overnight?”

“Things do.”

Philomena folded her arms.

“Rhys, it’s the mushroom I saw in the woods yesterday.”

He looked at it again.

“Are you sure?”

“Unless enormous purple mushrooms with silver spots are suddenly common around here.”

“Fair point.”

By lunchtime half the island had come to inspect the visitor. Seth was delighted.

“I reckon it’s followed me back,” he said.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” said Philomena.

“Well, how else did it get here?”

Nobody could answer that.

By late afternoon it had moved closer to the door, and by evening it was standing upon the threshold. Philomena placed a chair against the door.

“That should stop it. I don’t trust anything that follows people home without having legs.”

The following morning the mushroom was inside the inn. It stood in the corner of the bar, between the grandfather clock and a large potted fern. Nobody knew how it had entered.

Philomena was furious.

“I locked that door myself.”

When Seth arrived shortly afterwards, he was delighted to discover that his mushroom had apparently taken up residence.

“Perhaps it likes the company.”

“Then it can pay for a room,” said Philomena.

“I’ve seen some dashed strange things during my time in India,” said Reggie, “but never anything like this. I believe it may be responding to external stimuli. Warmth. Moisture. Possibly conversation.”

Philomena stared at him.

“Are you suggesting that it’s listening to us?”

“Not necessarily.”

The mushroom tilted slightly towards Reggie, who took a step backwards, and added,

“Although I wouldn’t entirely rule it out.”

Over the next few days the fungus became a familiar feature of the inn. It moved about when nobody was watching, appearing in unexpected places and generally making a nuisance of itself.

On Tuesday it blocked the entrance to the cellar.

On Wednesday it was discovered beside the kitchen stove.

On Thursday Philomena found it standing directly behind her while she was washing glasses.

“Stop doing that!” she said, with an involuntary scream.

It remained motionless.

“Honestly,” she muttered, “you’re worse than Drury.”

The fungus appeared to droop.

Philomena regarded it suspiciously.

“Oh, don’t start looking hurt.”

By Friday the mushroom had become a considerable attraction. Visitors came from all over the island to see it, and Seth, meanwhile, had become increasingly attached to the creature.

“I think it’s lonely,” he told Philomena.

“Mushrooms don’t get lonely,” she said.

“How do you know?” Seth asked.

Philomena opened her mouth, then closed it again. It was a fair question.

That evening Seth placed a small bowl of water beside the fungus, and the mushroom leaned towards it.

“See?” he said triumphantly.

Philomena sighed.

“Next you’ll be knitting a scarf for it.”

“Would that help?”

“No, Seth.”

The following morning the mushroom had disappeared. Its corner beside the grandfather clock was empty, save for a small circle of damp earth. Seth was devastated.

“Where’s it gone?”

“I don’t know,” said Philomena.

“Has somebody taken it?”

“Not as far as I know.”

“Perhaps it’s wandered off.”

“Perhaps.”

Seth looked miserable.

“I was getting quite fond of it.”

Philomena felt a small pang of guilt. The mushroom had been inconvenient, certainly, but it had done no actual harm. It had never demanded food, broken anything or complained about the service. Which, she reflected, was more than could be said for most of the customers.

Later that afternoon Seth returned to the woods. He found the clearing beneath the ancient oak easily enough, but there was no sign of the enormous purple fungus. Instead, growing in a neat circle around the place where it had first appeared, were six small mushrooms. Each had a purple cap flecked with silver.

Seth crouched beside them.

“Well, hello,” he said. 

The nearest mushroom gave a tiny shudder.

Seth smiled.

“Your mother’s been to visit us, has she?”

He sat quietly for a while, watching the little fungi. Then he rose and made his way back. He had gone only a few yards when he heard a faint rustling behind him.

He stopped. The rustling stopped.

He walked on. The rustling began again.

Seth sighed.

“Oh, dear…”

And somewhere behind him, six small purple mushrooms began the long and laborious journey towards the Squid and Teapot.