Watercolour-style tattoo of a fox beside a teal four-leaf clover on an arm, with sketched black linework and orange splashes.

Fox and four-leaf clover on an arm

Forearm · Colour · Photo

A fox with its head turned to the right sits beside a large teal four-leaf clover, with a curling tail sweeping below. Loose black sketch lines outline the fox and its fur, while orange and teal washes fill the forms in a watercolour effect. Small dots trail across the upper right, and the tattoo sits on a curved limb against a plain background.

Forearm Fox Four-leaf clover Clover Watercolour Dot

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

The clover had grown on the wrong side of the dyke for three summers, and Ada Penrose had walked past it every morning without once looking down. Brack knew this because he had been watching her from the reeds since the frost went out of the ground, his belly flat, his brush swinging low behind him. She carried her basket to the ferry with her eyes on the grey water, the way people do when they are counting something they would rather not count.

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On the Thursday she stopped. Her boy had coughed through the night, and the ferryman had turned her back at the landing because the tide was running too hard for a child's fever. Ada crouched at the dyke and pushed the nettles aside with a gloved hand. "Go on, then," she said to nobody. Brack, who had never once been spoken to by a woman who expected an answer, held very still.

She found three-leaved clovers, then three again, then a fat rounded one she tore up in disgust. Brack had counted every stem in that patch. The fourth was under the bramble, pale at the edges, where the sun could not reach it. He went in low, teeth closed on the stalk, and laid it at her boot before he could think better of it.

Ada looked at the leaf, then at the fox, then at the leaf again. She picked it up, pressed it flat inside her coat, and walked to the landing without looking back. The tide, Brack noticed, had already begun to slacken.