Black and white photo of a solid black silhouette tattoo of a woman holding an umbrella and a broom, on the inner wrist and forearm.

Floating silhouette with umbrella on wrist

Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A solid black silhouette of a woman floating in the air, holding an open umbrella in one hand and a broom in the other, with a small wrist-level tattoo. The design is filled with flat black ink, with no shading or fine linework visible. The black and white photograph is taken from above a raised hand, so the tattoo sits prominently on the inner wrist and forearm against a dark background.

Forearm Silhouette Woman Umbrella

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The gale had taken the lambing shed roof at three, and by six Nell Garrow was still pulling sheets of tin out of the hedge with her bare hands. Her father stood in the yard with the lantern and said nothing, which was worse than shouting. Behind him the ewes were bunched in the far corner of the barn, steaming, and the wind came through the slats as if it had been invited.

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Her aunt's black umbrella hung on a nail by the back door, where it had hung since the funeral. Nell took it down. It was the only thing in the house that had never once been used in weather. She pulled the ribs open on the step, and when she lifted it over her head the wind got under the canopy and tugged her a full yard off the ground before she planted her boots in the frozen muck again.

She took the broom from the byre as well, the stiff one her mother used for the dairy. Her father called after her that she was daft, that the Hendersons' field was a mile of ditch and wire, and she shouted back that she only meant to fetch the tin. The gusts carried her over the hedge and past the chapel roof, and from up there the village was a scatter of yellow windows with the river black between them. She saw the sheet of tin cartwheeling down towards the Hendersons' bullock pen and steered for it, badly, the broom handle knocking against her hip.

She came down in the ditch with snow down her collar and the umbrella inside out over her head. Her father found her an hour later, sitting on the tin with the handle of the broom across her knees. He looked at her for a long while. Then he hoisted the sheet onto his shoulder and said the bullock would want its breakfast. Nell folded the umbrella, shook the snow off it, and hung it back on its nail.