Brambletye Chapters Three and Four (standard:drama, 2107 words)
Author: Brian Cross	Added: Oct 30 2026	Views/Reads: 0/0	Story vote: 0.00 (0 votes)
Author Tim Carmichael heads south in search of background material for his new novel, only to find himself embroiled in a drama amidst centuries-old ruins.

CHAPTER THREE 

“We've looked everywhere, Mr Smythe; there's not a trace. She might just
as well have vanished into ...” 

“Thin air,” Smythe finished for his correctionist. “Spare me the
cliché,” he said with a scowl, left his desk, and paced to his 
first-floor window, looking out through the trees towards Brambletye. 
He let out a sigh and then swung back, his face a deep red, stabbing a 
finger towards his correctionist. “If you'd have looked everywhere, 
you'd have found her, dimwit! Gone since yesterday morning because you 
let her out of your sight – we can't afford to let her escape, not her 
of all people. She'll go straight to the ...” 

“No, she won't.” The red-faced employee shook his head. 

“They'd bring her back here ...” 

“But questions will be asked,” Smythe said, slamming his weighty frame
back into the chair. 

“She can't have gone far dressed as she is. Likely hiding in woodland,
soaked through, no doubt.” 

Smythe picked up a pen and thrust the tip towards his chief
correctionist's smug face. “Which is of little concern to me. I want 
her back – the institution needs her back – and the consortium will be 
after my blood! Her father's a marquess, goddammit.” 

The self-satisfied smile remained on the correctionist's face. “But he's
a marquess under our thumb.” 

“Not if we lose her, you fool. And if she does roam further afield, the
powers that be might not be so willing to return her to us – and if the 
marquess then learns of it, you reckon he won't spill the beans?” 
Smythe sat back and let his words sink in. He saw that self-indulgent 
smile disappear from his employee's face. Good, let that finally get 
through, even if he had just used a cliché himself. “Now, Saunders, I 
want every available man out scouring the field and woods until that 
girl is found, and it better be soon!” 

CHAPTER FOUR 

“What the fu ...” 

As soon as I spoke, the girl sprang out of the boot and made to run
away. “Hey, hang on, just hang on – what's this all about?” I grabbed 
her arm, aware that I shouldn't, and got back: “Get your bloody hands 
off me!” 

“Not until you tell me what's going on,” I insisted, straining with the
effort of keeping her in place. “Yesterday, you were being chased 
pell-mell around these ruins, and today – you're soaking wet, dressed 
in what looks like the same robe, and hiding in the boot of my car.” 

As she still struggled to pull away, green eyes alight with either fury
or fear – I didn't know which – I tried a different approach. “Look, I 
know a little of what's going on, I'm not entirely clueless –” which 
was partially true, although I didn't know the exact location of this 
alleged correctional place, far from it. Besides, accounting for what 
the gamekeeper had told me, and if this place was in any way legit, 
then I ought to seek it out and return her. 

Problem was, though, I didn't know that. “What – what do you know?”
“That you're an escapee from an offenders' institute.” I was guessing 
that, but I didn't get a chance to reflect on it because I 

I noticed her wide-eyed gaze had shifted slightly, and she wasn't
looking at me but beyond me. 

“Georgina, the game's up!” the words boomed out, as appearing from
behind the ruins came the bulky figure I'd seen the day before, 
accompanied by three other men who seemed to be dressed in paramilitary 
uniforms. 



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