The Guest List(71)

He puts a big hand on Will’s shoulder. Will looks as though he’s slightly buckling under the weight, as though Johnno might be putting some downward pressure on it. ‘And I know, I truly know, that he would never screw me over.’ He turns to Will, dips in close, as though he’s searching Will’s face. ‘Would you, mate?’

Will puts up a hand and wipes his face where it seems Johnno’s saliva has landed.

There’s a pause – an awkward, lengthening pause, during which it becomes clear that Johnno’s actually waiting for an answer. Finally, Will says: ‘No. I wouldn’t. Of course I wouldn’t.’

‘Well that’s good,’ Johnno says. ‘That’s great! Because ha ha … the things we’ve been through together. The things I know about you, man. It wouldn’t be wise, would it? All that history we share together? You remember it, don’t you? All those years ago.’

He turns back to Will again. Will’s face has gone white.

‘What the fuck,’ someone on the table whispers, ‘is Johnno going on about? Is he on something?’

‘I know,’ I hear, in reply. ‘This is mental.’

‘And you know what?’ Johnno says. ‘I had a little chat with the ushers, earlier. We thought it might be nice to bring a bit of tradition to proceedings. For old times’ sake.’ He gestures to the room. ‘Chaps?’

As if on cue the ushers rise. They all move to surround Will, where he’s sitting.

Will shrugs, good-humouredly: ‘What can you do?’ Everyone laughs. But I see that Will’s not smiling.

‘Seems only fair,’ Johnno says. ‘Tradition, and all that. Come on, mate, it’ll be fun!’

And between them they grab hold of Will. They’re all laughing and cheering – if they weren’t it would appear a whole lot more sinister. Johnno has taken his tie off and he wraps it around Will’s eyes, tying it, like a blindfold. Then they hoist him up on their shoulders and march off with him. Out of the marquee, into the growing darkness.





JOHNNO


The Best Man


We drop Will on the floor of the Whispering Cave. I guess he won’t be delighted about his precious suit touching the wet sand or the fact that the smell in here hits you like a punch in the face: rotting seaweed and sulphur. It’s starting to get darker and you have to squint a bit to see properly. The sea’s rougher than it was earlier, too: you can hear it crashing against the rocks on either side. The whole way here, as we carried him, Will was laughing and joking with us. ‘You boys better not be taking me anywhere messy. If I get anything on this suit Jules will kill me—’ and ‘Can’t I bribe any of you with an extra crate of Bolly to take me back?’

The guys are all laughing. For them, this is all great fun, a bit of a blast from the past. They’ve been sitting in the marquee for a couple of hours getting drunker and more restless, especially those like Peter Ramsay who have powdered their noses. Before I did my speech I too had a bump in the toilets, with some of the blokes, which was maybe a bad idea. It’s only made me more jittery. It’s also made everything weirdly clear.

The others are all just excited to be outside. It’s a bit like the stag. All the boys together, like it was back in the day. The wind, blowing a gale now, makes it all the more dramatic. We had to bend our heads low against it. It made carrying Will all that much harder.

It’s a good spot, here, the Whispering Cave. Pretty out of the way. You can imagine, if there had been a cave like this at Trevellyan’s, it would have been used in Survival.

Will is lying on the shingle: not too close to the water. Don’t know what the tides are like around here. We’ve bound his wrists and ankles with our ties, as per old school tradition.

‘All right, boys,’ I say. ‘Let’s leave him here for a bit. See if he can make his own way back.’

‘We’re not going to actually leave him there, are we?’ Duncan whispers to me, as we climb out of the cave. ‘Until he works out how to untie himself?’

‘Nah,’ I tell him. ‘Well, if he hasn’t returned in half an hour we’ll come get him.’

‘You better!’ Will calls. He’s still acting like this is all a big joke. ‘I’ve got a wedding to get to!’

I head towards the marquee with the rest of the ushers. ‘Know what,’ I say, as we pass the Folly. ‘I’m gonna peel off here. Gotta take a leak.’

I watch them all return to the marquee, laughing and jostling each other. I wish I could be like one of them. I wish for me it was only harmless school memories, a bit of fun. That it could still be a game.

When they’re all out of sight, I turn around and start walking back to the cave.

‘Who’s that?’ Will calls, as I approach him. His words echo in the space, so it sounds as though there are five of him saying it.

‘It’s me,’ I say. ‘Mate.’

‘Johnno?’ Will hisses. He’s managed to sit up, is leaning against the cave wall. Now the boys have gone he’s dropped the act. Even with his eyes covered I can see he’s fairly pissed off, his jaw tight. ‘Untie me, get this blindfold off! I should be at the wedding – Jules will be livid. You’ve had your joke now. But this isn’t funny.’