The sound of people singing rises until we are with Gill.
Everyone is singing ‘The Twelve Days of Christmas’, but maybe with different words.
Above something has begun. A sort of village rota. Everyone chipping in and Gill has even resisted the urge to be the one to write it all down (though maybe tomorrow she might just email it round).
Jan I mean, I could take over the tables for art club, if you like
Says Jan.
I never really do much down
there. I’ve always felt a little scared to be honest, of stepping on your toes.
Gill No. No. The tables would be wonderful.
Steve I know someone with a marquee for next year’s fete. I just always thought I was too late to help.
Says Steve.
Josie takes Gill aside.
Josie Gill, I’m sorry about Rob.
Gill You all knew, didn’t you? How long?
Josie Four weeks. He told Steve. We didn’t want to intrude and you seemed so determined to …
Tell us in your own time.
Gill Yes.
That’s actually – Well, it’s quite kind.
Mrs Hargreaves If you want, Gill, I’d be very happy to run the raffle on a Thursday.
Gill nods, but makes a mental note to avoid that one, Mrs Hargreaves was known to be a bit scatty. And was better off installed as the chatty one to welcome people at the door.
And soon there’s a sort of relaxing in Gill. She can feel herself fill with something … what is that?
Is it community spirit?
Feels nice.
On a Saturday night.
Looks up at the sky. Wonders why they don’t all come up here more often.
Maybe they could organise some kind of bench or something. The view was really rather good.
Right out over the village below.
Gill could see the soft glow of the light in her kitchen. Be nice to get home.
And then she sees someone climbing up.
It’s Mrs MacKenzie. Michael’s mum.
Gill Are you okay?
Mrs MacKenzie Has anyone seen my son?
He’s been gone all night.
No note. I don’t know what to do.
Andy Search party. Steve. If it’s okay, I’ll go with you.
And that’s when Mrs Hargreaves screams out loud.
Mrs Hargreaves There’s something grabbed on to my ankle. HELP!
Get it off get it off.
The village frozen as sure enough a hand from hell was pushing its way out of the ground.
Followed by a strange sound.
We hear Tony struggling. Then his head appears.
Tony Could someone help, do you think?
I’ve had rather a night.
Mrs MacKenzie Mikey!
His mum runs to pull the boy who’s holding on to Tony’s back.
Mrs MacKenzie Are you okay?
Mikey Did you get the cup of tea I made?
Tony I’ve never been better. Here take this. I don’t want to get it any wetter.
What is it?
Tony It’s going to put Little Bevan well and truly on the map.
It’s St Agathus’ cap.
And look. There inside.
Wrapped in pig hide. It’s her teeth. All of them.
Pat She must’ve had a fair old grin.
Tony They’re reliquaries, Pat. They’ll make up for the statue I smashed.
And together the village pull Tony and Mikey, wet and stinking, myki and myred, from the earth below the hill.
Where they’d nearly sacrificed Gill.
And where now there was the entrance to one of the biggest finds in North Norfolk archaeological history.
The tomb of St Agathus.
And Tony thinks he has his book. This will be his book.
How it took a night like this. The kiss of something sacred in this place.
This earth. This Norfolk sky. Perhaps a little touch of heaven.
To find the tale of Little Bevan.
Musical reprise: ‘The Song of Little Bevan’.