Black and grey realistic diamond tattoo on the side of the ribs, with script above reading You're a diamond my dear, They can't break you.

Diamond and script on the ribs

Realism · Ribs · Black and grey · Photo

A realistic diamond is shown in greyscale with faceted highlights and shadows, sitting centrally on the side of the ribs. Above it, black cursive script reads "You're a diamond my dear, They can't break you" over two lines. The skin tone and a slight reddening around the diamond's base are the only colour in the frame.

Realism Lettering Ribs Diamond Script Quote Gem

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mrs Pardoe had the bath water running before the last of the lodgers was out of the door, because the Whitsun couple always wanted hot water at six and the boiler on Gull Terrace had a temper. She stood at the scullery sink with her sleeves pushed up and listened to the gulls fighting over the bins. Upstairs, in the back attic room, the brooch sat on the windowsill where she had left it the night before, catching the first light off the harbour.

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Her husband Arthur had bought it from a travelling man at the Lowestoft fair in 1938, for eleven shillings, and had pinned it to her coat that same afternoon. Diamond, he'd said. Real as the sea. She had wanted to believe him, and for a while she did. Then the war came, the bank in Halsey closed its doors for a fortnight, and Arthur sat at the kitchen table with his hands flat on the oilcloth saying nothing at all. She had turned the brooch over in her palm and said the thing her mother used to say to her: you're a diamond, my dear, they can't break you. Arthur had laughed for the first time in a week.

The brooch was paste. She had known for years. A jeweller in Ipswich had told her so in 1951, kindly, and charged her nothing for the looking. She had never once told Arthur she knew, and he had died in March believing in it.

At half past six she went upstairs and unpinned it from the dressing table, held it to the window, and watched the light break into a thousand small, stubborn colours across the wallpaper. Downstairs the kettle began to sing. She fastened the brooch to her cardigan and went down to start the breakfasts.