The Guest List

by Lucy Foley

  Now, for the first time in a long time, it’s just the two of us.

  Me and him.

  JULES

  The Bride

  My new husband seems to have disappeared. ‘Has anyone seen Will?’ I ask my guests. They shrug, shake their heads. I feel like I’ve lost any control I might have had over them. They’ve apparently forgotten that they’re here for my big day. Earlier they were circling around me until it almost got unbearable, coming forward with their compliments and well-wishes, like courtiers before their queen. Now they seem indifferent to me. I suppose this is their opportunity for a little hedonism, a return to the freedom they enjoyed at university or in their early twenties, before they were weighed down with kids or demanding jobs. Tonight is about them – catching up with their mates, flirting with the ones who got away. I could get angry, but there’s no point, I decide. I’ve got more important things to be concerning myself with: Will.

  The longer I look for him the more my sense of unease grows.

  ‘I saw him,’ someone pipes up. I see it’s my little cousin, Beth. ‘He was with Olivia – she was a bit drunk.’

  ‘Oh, yeah. Olivia!’ another cousin chimes in. ‘They went towards the entrance. He thought she should get some air.’

  Olivia, making a spectacle of herself yet again. But when I go outside there’s no sign of them. The only people hanging around in the entrance of the marquee are a group of smokers – friends from university. They turn towards me and say all the things you’re meant to say about how wonderful I look, what a magical ceremony it was— I cut them off.

  ‘Have you seen Olivia, or Will?’

  They gesture vaguely around the side of the marquee, towards the sea. But why on earth would Will and Olivia go out there? The weather has started to turn now and it’s dark, the moonlight too dim to see by.

  The wind screams about the marquee and around me when I step into the brunt of it. Remembering the near-drowning scene earlier, I feel my stomach pitch with dread. Olivia couldn’t have done something stupid, could she?

  I finally catch sight of their faint outlines beyond the main spill of light from the marquee, towards the sea. But some intuition beyond naming stops me from calling out to them. I’ve realised that they’re very close to one another. In the near-dark the two shapes seem to blur together. For a horrible moment I think … but no, they must be talking. And yet it doesn’t make sense. I’m not sure I’ve ever seen my sister and Will speak to one another, beyond polite conversation at least. I mean, they barely know each other. They’ve met precisely once before. And yet they seem to have a great deal to say to one another. What on earth can they be talking about? Why come all the way round here, away from the sight of the other guests?

  I begin to move, silent as a cat burglar, edging forward into the growing darkness.

  OLIVIA

  The Bridesmaid

  ‘I’m going to tell her,’ I say. It’s an effort to get the words out, but I’m determined to do it. ‘I’m going to … I’m going to tell her about us.’ I’m thinking of what Hannah said, earlier. ‘It’s always better to get it out in the open – even if it seems shameful, even if you feel like people will judge you for it.’

  He clamps a hand over my mouth. It’s a shock – so sudden. I can smell his cologne. I remember smelling that cologne on my skin, afterwards. Thinking how delicious it was, how grown-up. Now it makes me want to vomit.

  ‘Oh no, Olivia,’ Will says. His voice is still almost kind, gentle, which only makes it worse. ‘I don’t think you will, actually. And you know why? You won’t do it because you would be destroying your sister’s happiness. This is her wedding day, you silly little girl. Jules is too special to you for you to do that to her. And for what purpose? It’s not like anything is going to happen between us now.’

  There’s a burst of chatter from the other side of the marquee, and perhaps he’s worried someone is going to see us like this because he takes his hand away from my mouth.

  ‘I know that!’ I say. ‘That’s not what I mean … that’s not what I want.’

  He raises his eyebrows, like he isn’t sure whether he believes me. ‘Well, what do you want, Olivia?’

  Not to feel so awful any longer, I think. To get rid of this horrible secret I’ve been carrying around. But I don’t answer. So he goes on: ‘I get it. You want to lash out at me. I will be the first to admit, I haven’t behaved impeccably in all of this. I should have broken it off with you properly. I should perhaps have been more transparent. I never meant to hurt anyone. And can I tell you what I honestly think, Olivia?’

  He seems to be waiting for a reply so I nod my head.

  ‘I think that if you were going to do it, you would have done it by now.’

  I shake my head. But he’s right. I have had so much time to do it, really, to tell Jules the truth. So many times I have lain in bed in the early hours of the morning and thought about how I’d get Jules on her own – suggest lunch, or coffee. But I never did it. I was too chicken. I avoided her instead, like I avoided going to the shop to try on my bridesmaid dress. It was easier to hide, to pretend it wasn’t happening.

  I’ve thought about what I would do in this situation if I were Jules, or Mum. How I would have made a big display, probably the first time I saw him – embarrassed him in front of everyone at the engagement drinks. But I’m not strong like them, not confident.

  So I tried with the note. I printed it out and dropped it through Jules’s letterbox:

  Will Slater is not the man you think he is. He’s a cheat and a liar. Don’t marry him.

  I thought it might at least make her question him. Make her think. I wanted to seed a tiny bit of doubt in her mind. It was pathetic, I can see that now. Maybe Jules didn’t even get it. Maybe Will saw it first, or it got swept up with a load of flyers and binned. And even if she did see it, I should have realised Jules isn’t the sort of person to be bothered about a note. Jules isn’t a worrier.

  ‘You don’t want to destroy your sister’s life, do you?’ Will says, now. ‘You couldn’t do it to her.’

  It’s true. Even though at times I feel like I hate her, I love her more. She’ll always be my big sister, and this would ruin things between us forever.

  He has such confidence in his own story. My own version of it all is falling apart. And I suppose he’s right in saying that he didn’t lie, not really. He just didn’t tell the truth. I don’t seem to be able to hold on to my anger any more, the bright burning energy of it. I can feel it slipping away from me, leaving in its place something worse. A kind of nothingness.

  And then, suddenly, I think of Jules, the smile on her face as she stood next to him in the chapel, not having a clue about who he really is. Jules never lets anyone make a fool of her … but he has. I feel angry for her in a way I haven’t been able to for myself.

  ‘I’ve kept your texts,’ I tell him. ‘I can show them to her.’ It’s the last thing I have over him, the last bit of power I hold. I hold my phone out in front of him, to emphasise it. I should see it coming. But he’s been speaking so softly, so gently, that somehow I don’t. His arm darts out. He grabs my wrist in mid-air. He grabs my other wrist, too. And in one quick motion he’s got my phone off me. Before I can even work out what he’s doing he’s hurled it, far away from us, into the dark water. It makes a tiny ‘plop!’ as it enters.

  ‘There’ll be back-ups—’ I say, even though I’m not sure how I’d find them.

  ‘Oh yes?’ he sneers. ‘You want to mess people’s lives up, Olivia? Because you should know that I have some photos on my phone—’

  ‘Stop!’ I say. The thought of Jules – of anyone – seeing me like that …

  I felt so uncomfortable when he was taking them. But he was so good at asking for them, telling me how sexy I looked while I was performing for him, how much it would turn him on. And I was worried that not doing them would make me look like a prude, a child. And he wasn’t in them at all – not his face, not his voice. He cou
ld claim I sent them to him, I realise, that I had shot them myself. He could deny it all.

  His face is very near to mine, now. For a crazy moment I think he might be about to kiss me. And even though I hate myself for it, a tiny part of me wants him to. Part of me wants him. And that makes me sick.

  He’s still got a hold of my other wrist. It hurts. I make a sound and try to pull away but he only grips me harder, his fingers digging into my flesh. He’s strong, so much stronger than me. I realised that earlier, when he carried me out of the water, looking like the big hero, playing to the crowd. I think of my little razor blade, but it’s in my beaded bag, somewhere in the marquee.

  Will gives me a yank forward and I trip over my feet. My shoe comes off. It is only now that I realise it’s not all that far to the cliff edge. And he’s pulling me towards it. I can see all the water out there, glossy black in the moonlight. But … he wouldn’t, would he?

  NOW

  The wedding night

  The ushers stare at the mangled gold crown in Femi’s hand. It seemed so out of place where they found it – sitting on the black earth, in the midst of the storm – that it takes all of them a few moments to work out where they have seen it before.

  ‘It’s Jules’s crown,’ Angus says.

  ‘Shit,’ Femi says. ‘Of course it is.’

  Each wonders silently, what violence it might have taken to so brutally deform the metal.

  ‘Did you see her face?’ Angus asks. ‘Jules? Before she cut the cake? She looked— really angry, I thought. Or … or maybe really frightened.’

  ‘Did anyone see her in the marquee?’ Femi asks. ‘After the lights came on?’

  Angus quails. ‘But surely you can’t think … you don’t mean you think something really bad could have happened to her?’

  ‘Fuck.’ Duncan lets out a hiss of breath.

  ‘I’m not saying that exactly,’ Femi answers. ‘I’m only saying – does anyone remember seeing her?’

  There’s a long silence.

  ‘I can’t—’

  ‘No, Dunc. Neither can I.’

  They look about them in the darkness, eyes straining for any movement, ears pricked for any sound, breath catching in their throats.

  ‘Oh God. Look, there’s something else over there.’ Angus bends to retrieve the object. They all see how his hand trembles as he lifts it to the light, but none of them mock him for his fear this time. They are all afraid now.

  It’s a shoe. A single court in a pale grey silk, a jewelled buckle on the toe.

  Several hours earlier

  HANNAH

  The Plus-One

  This guy, Luis, is a great dancer. The band are whipping the guests into a frenzy, forcing us closer together as bodies careen around us. And I find myself thinking about how bloody stressful and lonely my whole day has been. Charlie’s largely responsible for that. I don’t want to think about him right now, though. I’m too angry with him, too sad. Besides, when was the last time I abandoned myself to some music … when was the last time I had a really good dance? When was the last time I felt this desired, this bloody sexy? It feels like I lost that part of myself somewhere along the way. For these few hours I’m going to enjoy having it back. I put my hands above my head. I swing my hair, feel it brush the bare skin of my shoulders. I feel Luis watching me. I find the rhythm of the music with my hips. I was always a good dancer – those years of practice in Manchester clubs in my teens, raving to all the latest anthems from Ibiza. I’d forgotten how much in tune it makes me feel with my own body, how much it turns me on. And I can see how good I look reflected in Luis’ approving expression, his gaze only leaving mine to travel down the length of my body as I move.

  The music slows. Luis pulls me closer. His hands are on my waist and I can feel his heartbeat through his shirt, the heat of his chest beneath the fabric. I can smell his skin. His lips are inches away from mine. And I’m becoming aware, now our bodies are touching, that he’s hard, pressing against me.

  I pull away a little, try to put a few centimetres of space between us. I need to clear my head. ‘You know what,’ I say. My voice has a tremor in it. ‘I think I’m going to go and get a drink.’

  ‘Sure,’ he says. ‘Great idea!’

  I hadn’t meant him to come with me. I feel all of a sudden as though I need a bit of space, but at the same time I don’t have the energy to explain. So we head to the bar tent together.

  ‘How do you know Will?’ I shout, over the music.

  ‘What?’ He moves closer to hear, his ear brushing my lips.

  I repeat the question. ‘Are you from Trevellyan’s too?’ I ask.

  ‘Oh,’ he says. ‘You mean the school? Nah, we went to the same uni in Edinburgh. We were on the rugby team together.’

  ‘Hey, Luis.’ A guy standing at the bar raises a hand and envelops him in a hug as we draw near. ‘Come join a lonely bloke in a drink, won’t you? I’ve lost Iona to the dance floor. Won’t be seeing her till the bitter end now.’ He catches sight of me. ‘Oh, hello. Pleased to meet you. Been keeping my boy company, have you? He spotted you in the chapel, you know—’

  ‘Shut up,’ Luis says, flushing. ‘But yeah, we’ve had a dance, haven’t we?’

  ‘I’m Hannah,’ I say. My voice comes out a little strangled. I’m wondering what I’m doing here.

  ‘Jethro,’ Luis’s friend says. ‘So, Hannah, what you fancy drinking?’

  ‘Er—’ I waver, thinking I should be sensible. I’ve already had so much to drink today. Then I think of Charlie, and what he told me about him and Jules. I want to regain that sense of freedom I felt, briefly, on the dance floor. I want to be a lot less sober. ‘A shot,’ I say, turning to the barman: it’s Eoin, from earlier. ‘Of … er – tequila.’ I don’t want to mess around.

  Jethro raises his eyebrows. ‘Okaaay. I’m in. Luis?’

  Eoin pours us three tequilas. We down our shots. ‘Christ,’ Luis says, slamming his down, his eyes tearing up. But I feel like mine hasn’t done anything. It might as well have been water.

  ‘Another,’ I say.

  ‘I like her,’ Jethro says to Luis. ‘But I’m not sure my liver does.’

  ‘I think it’s fucking sexy,’ Luis says, beaming at me.

  We do another shot.

  ‘You weren’t at Edinburgh,’ Jethro says, squinting at me. ‘Were you? Know I’d remember you if you had been. Party girl like you.’

  ‘No,’ I say. That place again. The mere mention of it makes me feel a whole lot more sober. ‘I—’

  ‘We were,’ Jethro says, slinging an arm around Luis’ neck. ‘Time of our lives right, Lu? Still miss it. Miss playing rugby too. Though it’s probably good for my own safety that I don’t.’ He points at the bridge of his nose, which is flattened, clearly an old break.

  ‘I lost a tooth,’ Luis says.

  ‘I remember!’ Jethro laughs. He turns to me. ‘Course, Will never got a scratch on him. Played winger, the bastard. Pretty boy position. That’s why he’s so disgustingly handsome.’

  ‘He was the worst blocker,’ Luis says, ‘when we went out after a match. You’d be there trying to chat up some girl and then Will would trundle over to ask if you wanted a round and they’d only have eyes for him.’

  ‘His hit rate was insane,’ Jethro says, nodding. ‘Only reason he joined the Reeling Society, because of the totty.Let’s not forget he wasn’t always such a player though. Remember the one who got away?’

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ Luis says. ‘I’d forgotten about that. The Northern girl, you mean? The clever one?’

  Oh God. It feels as though horrible is coming into focus. And I can only stand here and watch it.

  ‘Yeah,’ Jethro says. ‘Like you.’ He winks at me. ‘He got his own back though when she dumped him. Remember, Luis?’

  Luis squints. ‘Not really. I mean … I remember she left uni. Didn’t she? I remember him being pretty cut up when she broke it off. Always thought she was a bit too smart for him.’

 
The sick feeling in the pit of my stomach grows.

  ‘That video that did the rounds, remember?’ Jethro says.

  ‘Shiiiiit,’ Luis says, eyes widening. ‘Yeah, of course. That was … savage.’

  ‘It’s probably found its way on to PornHub now,’ Jethro says. ‘Vintage section, obviously. Wonder what she’s doing now. Knowing it’s out there somewhere.’

  ‘Hey,’ Luis says suddenly, looking at me. ‘You all right? Jesus—’ he puts a hand on my arm. ‘You’ve actually gone white.’ He grimaces, sympathetically. ‘That last shot go down the wrong way?’

  I shove him away and stumble away from them. I need to get outside. I barely make it out in time before I fall on to my hands and knees and vomit on to the ground. My whole body is trembling as though I am running a fever. I’m dimly aware of a couple of guests, standing inside the entrance, murmuring their shock and disgust, the tinkle of a laugh. I vaguely register that the weather out here has become so much wilder, whipping my hair away from my head, stinging the tears from my eyes.

  I vomit again. But unlike with my seasickness on the boat I don’t feel any better. This sickness cannot be alleviated. It has gone down deep inside me, the poison of this new knowledge. It has found its way to my very core.

  NOW

  The wedding night

  ‘Who was wearing this?’ Angus holds the shoe up. His hand shakes.

  ‘I know I’ve seen it before,’ Femi replies. ‘But I can’t think where – it all seems so long ago.’ It is the day that feels surreal now. This: the night, the storm, their fear, has become all that exists for them.

  ‘Should we take it with us?’ Angus asks. ‘It might – it might be some sort of clue as to what happened.’