Clemie: A Short Story

Inside the camper van, there was no room to swing a cat, or even a dog. Not that Clog wanted swinging, no, thank you, very much, since he was perfectly content snuggled in Clemmie’s arms. And as for Clemmie, she felt cosy and dry. As snug as a bug, in a rug, with a pug who wanted a hug.
Inside the van, it was a tight fit, yet all five of them managed to squeeze onto the padded benches in the back. At the end of the bench sat Mosaic, because Doctor Pax had put him in charge of opening the trunk. A squall of rain broke the silence as it buffeted the side of the van, although, at one stage, Clemmie thought the others might have heard the thump of her heart.
Ba boom! Ba boom! Ba boom!
Why did she feel nervous and excited, all at once? Well, it
was not every day you open a treasure trove, or was it a box full of sand?
And so, five pairs of eyes watched Mosaic as he slowly, inch by inch, eased open the lid on the trunk. To start with, Clemmie bent forward and caught a whiff of leather and old spice. Then, when the lid fell back on its hinges, she looked inside and uttered a single word.
‘Bleh!’
Then she felt a tickle at the side of her face as Doctor Pax leant over and took something from behind her ear. The last time he did that, he gave her a toffee. What would it be this time?
In slow motion, he unfurled his hand.
On his palm lay the shiniest coin she had ever seen. It dazzled like gold, old, pirate treasure! However, she scrambled on her knees to see better when he opened his second palm.
‘Ooh!’ she gasped.
A radiant glow from a ruby warmed the van with deep shades of red; like the heat from a fire, a field full of poppies, and a bowl full of cherries, all rolled into one.