That Place, Part 12

“This is absurd!” claimed Margery.

Ms, Cuttlebuck, a smartly dressed women with short dark hair and grey eyes, smiled and replied, “Your opinion aside, the residents of Gateway House have the legal right to hold their event.”

Martin Shrubsbury, not nearly as smartly dressed with a receding hairline, cleared his throat and said, “Perhaps there’s some sort of compromise that can be reached.”

Ms. Cuttlebuck smiled, it was not a warm or comforting smile. It was the smile of someone who knows more than the person being smiled at.

“Mr. Shrubsbury, a compromise would imply there is something that you have that I desire, you do not,” said Ms, Cuttlebuck.

“We will see you in-“ began Margery.

“Please,” said Ms. Cuttlebuck, “Let’s get down to brass tacks. While you have the right to challenge this in court, it will not come before a judge for years. And I believe that your solicitor will tell you that this will ultimately be thrown out as frivolous. You will also be, as they say, on the hook for my fees. Let me assure you, this will bankrupt you.”

Margery looked at Shrubsbury who sighed and nodded.

Turning to Ms. Cuttlebuck, Margery shot her the most withering glare. This always worked. However, Ms. Cuttlebuck stared back with look that might be used on a child having a tantrum to show that no amount of screaming or crying were going to make the slightest difference.

“If that’s all, please excuse me, I have real work to attend to,” said Ms. Cuttlebuck.

“Thank you for your time,” said Shrubsbury.

Margery said nothing but they both left the office. Once outside, she turned on

“What good are you?” she hissed.

“Legally speaking, we haven’t a leg to stand on,” replied Shrubsbury, who was expecting this response.

“So, you’ve just given up? Well let me tell you, I have not!”

He in fact had given up, and was hoping to get a little shopping in as he didn’t get down to London as much as he’d like to. But knowing this was not the time for personal confessions he gave this advice.
“As your solicitor, I suggest that you just let the people out at “That Place” do whatever they are planning and just…”

Shrubsbury paused.

“What exactly are they doing?” he asked.

“Some sort of gathering,” she spat.

“I’m not sure why this is a problem.”

The real problem was Margery was unaccustomed to being thwarted. She knew that saying that out loud was childish and petulant, so instead she just said.

“They are up to something… unwholesome.”

“I’m not sure that’s a crime. And even if it were, given that there is no evidence, it’s virtually impossible to prove.”

With that, Margery smirked.

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