Black and grey pencil sketch of a tattoo design showing a wicker basket, high heels, stars and the script lettering There's no place like home.

Basket and heels with script lettering

Lettering · Black and grey · Flash

A pencil drawing of a tattoo design showing a woven basket with a bow on its handle, a pair of high-heeled shoes beside it, and a star shape at the lower left. The script lettering reading There's no place like home curves around the top and bottom of the composition. The design uses shaded pencil lines with scattered small stars and swirling flourishes, in black and grey only.

Lettering Basket High heel Shoe Star Script Bow Ribbon Flourish

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Nobody in the lost property office at Stoke had ever logged a basket with a bow on it, so Mrs Pryce decided it was a clerical error and put it on the top shelf behind the umbrellas. Two months later the basket was still there, and so were the heels inside it, a pair of black patent stilettos with one strap resewn in green thread. I know because I was the one who took them down every Thursday to dust, and because I had started talking to them.

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The claim tag had a name on it, a Mrs Eileen Haddow, and a note in biro: "Left on the 7.42 to Crewe. Tell them I'm not coming back for them." Nobody came. The basket filled up slowly with things people had lost on trains and then stopped wanting: a tartan flask, a ticket to a wedding in Carlisle, a letter addressed to someone called Dennis who had moved to Spain. A boy handed in a star-shaped brooch with tears on his face, and I set it on the heels like a small sheriff.

In March a woman in a yellow mac came to the counter and asked, very quietly, whether anyone had handed in a basket. I said we had one, and she didn't speak for a while. Then she said the shoes were hers, that she had left them on purpose, that she had got as far as Crewe in them and found she could walk the rest of the way in the trainers that had been rolling about her boot for a year. She touched the bow and said it was her mother's knot, the one nobody else tied properly.

She took the shoes and the basket both and walked out into the rain with the basket held against her hip, as if she'd only popped out for bread. The star brooch was still on the shelf, so I kept an eye on it.