As I walk closer, the voice sounds more familiar. It’s Daniel, my fiancé…

2

It’s impossible to write fiction without bringing a little bit of real life into it. Writing about what you know is always going to benefit your work and, as soon as you realise this, you stop writing about the things you’ve experienced and start looking for experiences to write about.

It’s pretty much the same with dialogue. As soon as you notice there are some great things to be overheard, while sitting on the train or using a public toilet, you realise that you can gather some brilliant material, just by observing human nature, listening to conversations, watching people with all the concentration you’d lend to a gripping David Attenborough documentary.

I often lose my nose in other people’s conversations, but today I don’t feel so bad about it. It’s my fiancé’s voice I can hear – doesn’t that make it my business? Perhaps it’s an invasion of privacy, to listen in on someone you know, but he’s supposed to be getting ready and…

‘I can’t believe you’re doing this.’

A female voice snaps me from my thoughts and my ethical hesitations are carried off by the breeze.

‘I have to,’ Daniel replies emphatically. ‘How can I not?’

An ice-cold sensation pumps through my veins.

I’m so close to the neatly trimmed hedge, I can feel the short, sharp branches scratching at my body through my hoodie.

I can hear their voices perfectly now, but I need to see. I peer around the corner, just enough to catch a glimpse.

Only a few metres inside the maze, Daniel is pacing back and forth. He looks so good, in his wedding suit, but his face tells a different story. All the colour has drained from his face and he’s frantically scratching at his hipster beard, just as he always does when he’s anxious.

Standing in front of him is our friend Eva. She’s wearing a floor-length, pleated maxi dress in a fiercely saucy shade of red – I imagine this is because I made such a big deal of saying red was an acceptable colour to wear to a wedding, she’ll be trying to prove a point. It’s split from the neck to the navel and I don’t think I’ve ever seen her dress quite so sexily. I don’t imagine her dress is supposed to be floor-length, but at around 5´ 2˝, everything must be too long for her. Daniel has always been disappointed he never quite made 6´. Still, he towers over her. As he paces back and forth in front of her, she just stands there, hugging herself.

I’d say Eva was more my friend than Daniel’s – she’s more of a frenemy, if I’m being honest. She used to go out with Daniel’s friend Paul. After they broke up, when Paul moved to Canada, she somehow stayed in our friendship circle. Neither of us are that close to her though. Definitely not ‘fraught-looking conversation, hidden in a maze less than an hour before a wedding’ close.