Pen Beneath The Bush

The Writing Bar (The Letter VN)

Becca: Don't forget it's the writing group tonight.

Isabella: Can't wait!

Ashton: Isn't the cafe closed tonight?
Zachary: Yeah, it is.

Ashton: Why don't you try the pub next door?

Becca: A pub?
Isabella: Yeah, a pub sounds good – others will join in.

Becca: There must be a better way to bring people in.

Zachary: Oh I know, I'll ask Hannah!

Becca: Hannah Wright?

Zachary: Yeah, I bet she'll love it. She runs a book club on Sunday. I'll pop in and see her after work.

Zachary cycled down to Hannah Wright's new house to be greeted by her husband. Luke Wright appeared as if he had just finished work with his tie hanging around his shoulders and his blazer only half on. Zachary smiled and waved. "Oh hey there!"

Luke had a cigar in one hand and a shot of absinthe in his left. "What do you want?"

"Oh, I just called in to see if Hannah was home?"

Luke bit into the cigar and tossed his blazer on a hanger. He leaned over and held his glass as if he owned the place."OH BUTTERCUP! HAGRID'S AT THE DOOR!"

"Darling," Hannah moaned, walking pass her husband with her arms folded. "Don't be so rude! It's bad for business." Her misery faded the moment she saw Zachary's face. She clapped her hands together and hugged him tightly. "Why hello Zachary! Fancy seeing you here."

"Well, we've got a writing group tonight. I was wondering you wanted to come along?"

"Oh, that sounds delightful!" Hannah placed her feet back on the ground. "Where's it at?"

"The cafe we normally do it at is closed for refurbishment. So we're holding it at the G bar tonight."

"Oh, that's where Marianne and I go for karaoke! Will Becca be there?"

"Of course Becca will be there: she runs it."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful. I've been meaning to catch up with her for some time now."

"So what time does it start?"

"It starts at 7."

"Then I better get my handbag." Hannah kneels down and grabs her white handbag with purple butterflies. "Oh Luke, darling. I'm going out to a writing group, darling. Please try and get Henry into the bath tonight and don't forget Annalise's bedtime story."

Hannah slammed the door, leaving her dumbstruck husband in her shoes for once. On the journey to the bar, Hannah told Zachary about the kind of poems that she used to write about romantic serenades and adventures across the countryside. Zachary enjoyed poetry, feeling it offered in-depth analysis of humankind and nature. A part of him wanted to apologize for the ride not being a fancy carriage. But the bike's seat was generous – enough for the two to sit in comfort.

"This could make a story in itself," Hannah said as Zachary parked up the bike. "That was the first time I've been on a bicycle before."

Zachary gasped. "It was?"

"Well, I've been on a moped, a private air-jet, helicopter and many cars, but not a traditional bicycle."

"They say there's a first time for everything."

"And you still have no lucky lady or guy?" Hannah asked.

"Nope."

"I still can't believe nobody's bagged you up yet." She placed her hands on her hips and giggled. "We'll have to do something about that."