Hand with black lettering across the fingers reading Don't ask me about my tattoos, with teal diamonds, a bow and small pink and grey motifs in a traditional style.

Finger lettering reading Don't ask me about my tattoos

Lettering · Hand · Mixed · Photo

Black script lettering runs across several fingers of an open hand, reading Don't ask me about my tattoos. Other small designs include teal and blue diamonds, a bow, a triangle and pink-filled shapes, drawn with bold outlines and flat colour fills. The dark blue backdrop sets off the pale skin, and the nails are painted white with black polka dots or silver glitter.

Lettering Traditional Hand Lettering Diamond Bow Triangle Finger tattoo Script

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Sunday, and the gas meter has swallowed another shilling, so I am writing this by the hall lamp with the front door propped for air. Mrs Ivy Tennant in number four has been at the parlour piano since breakfast, and her new lodger, a Mr Abel Quint who came off the Ramsgate boat with one case and a cardboard box of brass fittings, has gone down to the pier without his hat.

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The house has been talking about him all week. Every time he passes the sideboard he rests his hand flat on the mahogany, and the words across his fingers sit there like a shop sign that has lost its nerve. Mrs Tennant asked him on Tuesday what they meant. He said he was not a man for questions and his fingers were not much better. Then he took the teapot out of her hands and poured for the whole table, which in this house buys a good deal of forgiveness.

On Thursday young Nell from the bakery came to collect the rent for her mother and stayed to watch him work at the kitchen table. She had a pen of Mr Quint's, a little bottle of blue ink, and by the time I caught her she had copied a diamond onto the back of her own hand, badly, with a wobble in the middle like a bad egg. He did not scold her. He took the pen, drew a second diamond beside it, and said the first one was only ever a practice.

This morning I found a pair of threepenny bits on the mantel with a note under them in his cramped hand. It said the ring was for the girl, and the rent was for me, and he would be back for the cardboard box when the tide turned. The box is still in the hall. I have not opened it. The sea is flat and grey out past the groyne, and the lamp is burning down, and I find I do not much want to know what is inside.