“So,” she said, “looks like they developed rituals and whatnot to keep the creatures onside, if not happy – make sure they’d be safe even if no one else was. And at some point, they started writing stuff down. Or someone did it for them. They’d have to be able to, really, cos we know the farm had to be completely repopulated at least twice. They couldn’t rely completely on an oral tradition. Anyway, that’s the background.”

Madeleine looked tired and pale, off-colour. Well, she’d been badly injured, had lost blood. Even so, Ellie would have to talk to Milly later. “Anyway, that’s the potatoes, now for the meat. According to this, those things aren’t the real danger. They’re just… servants of something else.”

“Of what?”

“The sleepers,” said Jess. “That’s what Mum called them. The sleepers under the hill. There was a poem she used to read us.” She screwed up her face. “Beneath the hill the sleepers lie/They do not live, but will not die...”

“That’s here somewhere.” Madeleine turned a couple of pages. “Yeah:

“Beneath the hill the sleepers lie,

They do not live, yet will not die

They slumb’ring wait beneath the ground

Till their time once more comes around.

Men called them gods in bygone years,

And prayed to them in awe and fear;

Like ants round them their servants crawl,

Until once again they rule us all.

In winter nights their servants go,

To drag unwary folk below;

And seek for sign on dale or fend,

Of when their masters’ sleep will end.

Board your window, keep on your light,

When the Tatterskin walks at night.

Hush and be still, make never a cry,

And pray the Tatterskin walks on by.

And should you see their charcoal brand,

Scored on hearthstone, wall or land,

The White-Christ’s time it will be past,

And ancient gods restored at last.

The Tatterskins, from lairs deep,

Will cleanse the earth of Christian sheep,

O’er two night’s span; on the third, the Dance

Will wake the sleepers from their trance.

And on that day, the last of all,

Old night will forever fall,

The sleepers rise to rule once more

And those who’ve kept the faith restored.”

Milly gripped her cross in the ensuing silence, her knuckles white. “Jesus.”

Kate laughed, shakily. “Not exactly Sylvia Plath.”

“Two nights, and then the Dance,” said Jess. “That’s what Mum kept saying.”

“Meaning what?” said Charlotte. Madeleine frowned and turned a few more pages in the Bible.

“The first night – was that Tony?” said Ellie.

“No,” said Jess. “That was when it started. They made their sign. See –” She was frowning, trying to remember. “Mum said They’d come out some nights – and go hunting. But it wasn’t just for food or skins, it was – they were looking for signs.”