The Guest List

by Lucy Foley

‘Historically, the bird has been represented as a symbol of greed, bad luck and evil.’”

I have always, always got a plan; have done ever since I was little.

My starting theory is that Jules sent the letter to herself.

Almost as if they wanted to be heard.

This feels like a clue.

I don’t feel like I have much choice. Jules is good at making you feel that.

I know this month’s always tough.” “Yeah,” I nod. Charlie squeezes my hand. We both fall silent for a moment.

Why is it a tough month for Charlie and Hannah?

As we draw closer I realize that the strange, upright forms seem to be grave markers. And what looked like large bulbous heads are crosses, Celtic ones, the round circle enclosing the even-sided cross.

In one of the articles I read about him, while watching the show—because obviously I had to start googling everything I could find about him—the

Is Hannah obsessed with Will?

Of course it would be Ellie’s latest post. It’s like they’re mocking me.

I’m assuming Ellie is her ex’s new girlfriend? It’s not explicitly said.

“Sorry, I know I’m banging on. She’s on my mind a lot at the moment.”

Alice is clearly important…

“Got to send them off with a bang.” “Yeah, we should do something. Would only be traditional …” I’m half-tempted to stay and listen, to check they aren’t plotting mayhem on my watch. But it sounds harmless. And I’ve only got this brief window of time to myself.

Some of them recall her gentle singsong accent: Could she top them up, could she get them anything more? Otherwise she was, for want of a better expression, part of the furniture.

Who is the waitress? Keep an eye out for a sing-song accent.

“Maybe I’ve seen you in one of Jules’s photos, then. You seem familiar.” “Maybe,” I say. I don’t think so. I can’t imagine Jules displaying a photo that includes me; she’s got plenty of just her and Charlie. But I know what Will’s doing: helping me feel welcome, one of the gang. I appreciate the kindness.

Maybe Will and Hannah do actually know each other.

And there’s something a bit weird about Johnno’s eyes. I spend a while trying to work out exactly what’s off about them. Are they too close together? Too small?

“Who do we know who went to Edinburgh, Han?” Charlie says. I stiffen. How can he possibly have forgotten who it was? Then I see his expression change to one of horror as he realizes his mistake.

Charlie and Hannah have some weird connection to Edinburgh.

Will beams back at me. Our gazes lock, it’s like there’s no one else here. And then out of nowhere I think of that bloody note. And I feel the smile waver slightly on my lips.

My latest thought is do we even know if the wedding in the present day is even Jules and Will’s??

I can see it even with my eyes closed. It had a face. And it’s not an it, it’s a someone. I know who it is. “Get the fuck away from me,” I whisper. Then I try a different way: “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my fault. I didn’t think—”

Who does Johnny see?

“It was a prank we used to play on the younger boys at school. We’d go down via the cliff path and collect seaweed on the beaches—as much as we could carry. Then we’d hide it in their beds. So my guess is Johnno or Duncan—possibly all of the guys. They probably thought it was funny.”

Is one of the younger boys there in their midst? Freddy?

Freddy, who has a little schoolboy Latin, could translate the thing they were chanting:

Yeah I feel like Freddy has a history with the ushers.

I’m the braver of the two of us, I know. I don’t say this with any great pride. It’s simply that when the worst has happened, you rather lose your fear of anything else.

What has happened to Aoife?

Even when I came here all those years ago, even though the island was inhabited then, there were ghost stories. The grieving women mourning their husbands, brutally slain. The voices from the bog, denied their proper burial.

New theory: Aoife and Freddy are ghosts.

“Freddy and I met a long long time ago,” I tell him. He smiles that charming, interested smile. “Childhood sweethearts?” “You could say that.”

Yeah I definitely feel like they’re ghosts.

“Remember that trick we used to play with the seaweed?” Duncan says. “That was all your idea, mate.” He points at Will. “No,” Will says. “I’m sure it wasn’t.” It definitely was.

Was it Will? Is Will taunting Jules?

like that chubby little friend of his—Fatfuck, I think we called him—who ran off to tell Matron.

Freddy? Was he friends with the effeminate named kid?

“You could do worse than to think of Trevellyan’s. I know our methods may be considered a little … severe by some, but they have made great men out of some unpromising raw materials.”

Is there something creepy going on with the school?

But it’s dredged it all up, being with the boys again. It’s like none of it affected him, none of it held him back. Whereas I’ve always felt, I don’t know, like I don’t deserve to be happy.

It seems like they all killed someone and are now being haunted by him? Freddy??

“Oh yes,” Mr. Slater continues, unfazed by my silence. “I know. You think that simply because it wasn’t reported you’d got away with it? It would have been a disgrace on the school, on my name, if it had got out.” “No,” I say, “I dunno what you’re talking about.” But what I think is: You don’t know the half of it. Or maybe you do and you’ve got an even better poker face than I realized.

Maybe Will’s dad wrote the note?

Except there was a snitch. One pupil who sneaked on us. I was always sure it was Loner’s fat little friend. He said he’d seen us come into the dorm room, tie Loner up.

Fat. This is for sure Freddy. I also have a sneaking suspicion Loner is still alive.

And for what purpose? It’s not like anything is going to happen between us now.”

I mean, honestly he has a point. What actually would be the point of telling her that they used to date before he met Jules?

And then I catch a glimpse of something. A gleam of metal, that is. In her other hand, the one not holding the light.

I called all of this. It was incredibly obvious.

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Just when I thought the only thing this book had going for it was its inerrant spelling…