Run: 2026-04-24-01KQ0P3M71GA55716YH5FFHFAS

Molly spread the blueprint across the bonnet of Bill’s van, weighing down the corners with a half-eaten sausage roll, a torch, a fake moustache, and Bill’s left shoe. Across the street, the village hall glowed with sugar-fuelled menace. Balloons bobbed in the windows. A banner read HAPPY 6TH BIRTHDAY, TOBY! in letters so cheerful they seemed to be shouting. Bill peered at the plan upside down. “Are we absolutely certain this is worth it?” Molly tapped the paper with a purple fingernail. “Thirty-two presents, minimum. I counted the party bags. Parents overcompensate these days. Remote-control cars. Building sets. Possibly a scooter.” “It’s a children’s party, Molly.” “It’s a lightly guarded warehouse of wrapped merchandise.” A shriek of laughter burst from inside the hall, followed by the thump of tiny feet and an adult voice pleading for calm. Bill flinched. “They sound feral,” he said. “They’re six.” “Exactly. No sense of proportion. No respect for knees.” Molly ignored him and drew a line with a lipstick she claimed was “tactical crimson.” “We enter through the kitchen at 15:10, during musical statues. Everyone’s distracted. You pose as the magician.” Bill looked down at himself. He wore a cape made from a black bath towel and a top hat bought from a costume shop that had “Groom Squad” written inside the brim. “I don’t know any magic.” “You don’t need magic. You need confidence and pockets.” “What if they ask for a trick?” “Pull a coin from behind someone’s ear.” “I can’t do that.” “Then pull an ear from behind someone’s coin. Improvise.” Inside, a chorus began chanting something about cake. Molly checked her watch. Her expression tightened with professional excitement, the look she usually wore before doing something both illegal and disappointingly sticky. Bill folded his arms. “And your role?” “I’m the entertainer’s assistant.” “You’re wearing a fox costume.” “It’s memorable.” “It has a tail.” “Distraction is half the job.” Bill looked again at the hall. Through the window he saw a woman in a dinosaur jumper carrying a tray of orange squash, pursued by a boy with a balloon sword. Near the stage, the present table sagged beneath mountains of glittering paper. It was a dazzling heap of temptation, ribbons curled like festive snakes. Molly sighed happily. “Look at them. Untagged. Unwatched. Vulnerable.” “They have names on them.” “Details.” The rear door opened and a man emerged with a bin bag full of paper plates. Molly and Bill ducked behind the van. Bill’s cape caught on the wing mirror and strangled him gently until Molly yanked it free. The man tossed the rubbish into a bin and went back inside, humming. Molly rose first. “Now. We move.” They crossed the road with the grave purpose of jewel thieves approaching a laser grid. Bill carried a plastic wand. Molly carried two empty laundry bags marked FEATHERS, which she had stolen from a dry cleaner and considered classy. At the kitchen door, Molly pressed her ear to the wood. “Clear.” Bill whispered, “What’s our exit strategy?” “Same door, faster.” “That’s not a strategy. That’s a direction.” She pushed the handle. It opened. The kitchen smelled of jam sandwiches, crisps, and impending disaster. On the counter stood a cake shaped like a pirate ship, complete with chocolate cannons and a jelly crocodile. Bill stopped dead. “That is craftsmanship.” “Focus.” “I’m just saying, whoever made that deserves a grant.” From the main hall came the announcement they had been waiting for: “Everybody ready for musical statues?” Molly grinned. “Go.” They slipped through the serving hatch curtain. The hall froze in preparation, children poised like tiny maniacs awaiting rhythm. A portable speaker blasted pop music. Molly dropped into a jaunty fox trot, waving at nobody in particular. Bill strode after her, wand aloft, trying to look mystical and instead looking as though he had lost a bet. A little girl pointed. “Mummy, the magician’s here!” The dinosaur-jumper woman blinked. “I didn’t book a magician.” Molly bowed. “Complimentary upgrade!” Bill panicked and flourished his wand. It snapped in half. The music stopped. Every child froze except one boy, who continued chewing a balloon. Thirty pairs of eyes fixed on Bill. “Magic!” Molly hissed. Bill reached toward the nearest child’s ear, missed, and produced from his sleeve the sausage roll from the blueprint. It landed on the floor with a sad little bounce. There was a stunned silence. Then the children erupted. “Do it again!” “Make cake!” “Turn Toby into a frog!” In the chaos, Molly lunged for the present table. She scooped three parcels into a laundry bag before a small hand clamped around her tail. “Fox lady,” said Toby, birthday badge flashing on his jumper, “are you stealing my presents?” Molly looked down at him, then at the bag, then at Bill, who was now being pelted with balloon swords while shouting, “Behold! Invisible pigeons!” She gave Toby her most charming smile. “Borrowing.” Toby considered this. “Can I borrow your tail?” Five minutes later, Molly and Bill exited the village hall empty-handed, Bill wearing a paper crown and Molly missing her tail. Behind them, the children cheered as Toby opened the recovered presents under the vigilant gaze of every parent in the room. Bill adjusted his crown. “Well. That went poorly.” Molly nodded. “Reconnaissance mission.” “You surrendered to a six-year-old.” “He had leverage.” Across the street, Toby waved the fox tail triumphantly through the window. Molly narrowed her eyes. “Next time, we hit a retirement raffle.” Bill shuddered. “Too dangerous. They’ve got walking sticks.”