Phil Robinson got there first, though. Plant-Pot was the bigger of the two, but Phil, while shorter, was heavier. He stepped into Plant-Pot’s path, crouched and turned to catch the running man in the stomach with his shoulder. Plant-Pot doubled up and flew over Phil’s back onto the ground; Phil pivoted and fell on top of him, grabbing his arms and pinning him flat. Plant-Pot struggled hard, but more people ran in and helped hold him steady. Someone clapped Phil on the shoulder. “S’all right, mate. We got him.”

Phil climbed off, shaking, then stumbled away before anyone could speak. Milly saw Julie hug him tightly, and then the Robinsons disappeared inside their tent.

Chris Brailsford and his Mum helped Plant-Pot away. Poor sod, but it wasn’t hard to understand. Good work from Phil, there, and a surprise; Milly had been afraid he’d crack if anyone did.

Although he still might, with that moaning still going on, causing hallucinations, dread and panic. Andy Brailsford would just be the first, unless –

Milly began to sing. She’d a decent voice, thank God; she’d sung in Pastor Matt’s choir. Now her voice rose above the camp:

“Abide with me, fast falls the eventide,

The darkness deepens, Lord, with me abide;

When other helpers fail, and comforts flee,

Help of the helpless, Lord, abide with me...”

Kate Beck joined in, to Milly’s surprise; she hadn’t thought the girl was the religious sort. Then again, she was a drama student, so any chance to perform. But that wasn’t a kind thought, whether or not there was any truth in it; besides, it didn’t matter.

“Swift to its close ebbs out life’s little day;

Earth’s joys grow dim, its glories pass away;

Change and decay in all around I see...”

Now other voices joined in:

“Oh, Thou who changest not, abide with me.”

Noel began singing too.

“I need Thy presence every passing hour,

What but Thy grace can foil the Tempter’s power?”

Milly could barely hear the creatures’ moaning now.

“Who, like Thyself, my guide and stay can be?

Through cloud and sunshine, Lord, abide with me.”

By now everyone had joined in. Half were singing the bits they could remember and humming the rest, but that didn’t matter:

“I fear no foe, with Thee at hand to bless;

Ills have no weight, and tears no bitterness;

Where is death’s sting? Where, grave, thy victory?

I triumph still, if Thou abide with me.”

The moaning had died away.

“Hold Thou Thy cross before my closing eyes;

Shine through the gloom and point me to the skies;

Heaven’s morning breaks, and Earth’s vain shadows flee;

In life, in death, Oh Lord, abide with me.”