VIII“Ta-Da!” Emma held her arms wide in a big, dramatic gesture.
Patrick stared in disbelief.
“This is your idea of solving the housing problem – a commune?”
“Yeah, why not?” Emma turned and looked at the sight before her with pride.
“He’s eighty, Em!” Patrick's nose breathed his fury. “He can’t be expected to slum it with a bunch of hippy dropouts?”
“I’ll be the judge of that!” Pop pushed past the pair of them and stood before the commune and drank it in.
The cob houses were all neatly lined up with a central wide pathway down the front. Each stood on its own toft or platform. Way off to the left was an oddly shaped mill, with its overshot wheel over the lower of two ponds.
Towards the centre was a building that stood alone – a timber construction with a shingle roof that she would
