If it came to court, he’d say he’d thought about the fire angle, the safety features, how he’d researched how they’d escape. This tower block had three lifts. The girls were safe with him and he could run fast, even with three in tow because he jogged everywhere with one in the buggy, one riding behind and baby strapped to his chest.
At court he’d dress in a suit, would not expose his wife. He’d focus on the girls. That’s all.
His roll-up was burning low. After his PhD finished, he’d aim for Cambridge. Out the window the seagulls swooped. They loved the thermals. If that wasn’t play he didn’t know what was. Behind him the charity shop toys littered the carpet. A complete bargain. He was lucky; his girls, this view.