Molly flattened herself against the garden wall, the damp brickwork seeping through her thin black jumper. Bill, a man built like a wardrobe that had eaten another, smaller wardrobe, was attempting to do the same. The result was less ‘concealment’ and more ‘a suspiciously large topiary’. She could hear the cacophony from the other side: a high-pitched rendition of ‘Baby Shark’ that was making her teeth vibrate. This was their target. Little Timmy’s eighth birthday party. The piñata of presents. “I can’t feel my legs,” Bill grunted, his voice a low rumble that sounded like a drain clearing. “Are we sure this is the only way in? What about the front door? We could say we’re distant relatives. The Uncle Bobs from out of town.” “Bill, for the last time, we cannot just walk in,” Molly hissed, peering through a gap in the foliage. A small child in a princess dress ran past, screaming and waving a plastic sword. “We are not dressed for a party. You are dressed like a burglar who has given up. Besides, they have a bouncy castle. The risk of being mistaken for a ball and kicked is too high.” “Fair point,” Bill conceded, shifting his weight. A loose tile clattered onto the patio. They both froze. The music and screaming continued unabated. “Right. So, over the wall. Quick and quiet. You go first. I’ll provide… uh… moral support from down here.” “You mean you’ll be too winded to move for ten minutes,” Molly shot back, already grabbing a thick ivy vine. “Just try not to sneeze. You sound like a foghorn when you sneeze.” “I have a sensitive sinus condition! It’s not my fault the world is full of pollen and injustice.” He watched her scramble up with the agility of a squirrel. “Right. Presents. Are we targeting the big ones? The wrapped boxes are obviously the main prize, but don’t forget the gift bags. Sometimes the best stuff is in the bags. Small, expensive, easily fenced.” “Focus, Bill. This is a smash and grab, not a shopping trip. We get a bag, we fill it, we get out,” Molly whispered, dropping silently onto the grass on the other side. She beckoned to him. “Your turn. Try to leave the wall intact.” Bill took a running start, a sight that was truly terrifying to behold. He hit the wall with a thud that shook a nearby bird feeder. For a moment, he just hung there, legs kicking uselessly. “I’m stuck!” he wheezed, his face turning a remarkable shade of puce. “Molly, my belt buckle has caught on a piece of trellis! I’m a sitting duck! A very large, very stuck duck!” Molly put her head in her hands. Through the patio doors, she could see a mountain of brightly wrapped presents, a glittering mountain of pure, unadulterated loot. It was so close, she could almost smell the cheap plastic. And her partner in crime was currently embedded in the garden architecture. “Just… hold on,” she said through gritted teeth. “I’m coming back for you. But if I see a single child heading this way, I’m leaving you behind. No jury in the world would convict me.”