A sheet of metallic gold, silver and navy hibiscus flower designs with a gold and a silver flamingo, shown as temporary tattoo stickers on a pale background.

Enlarged with AI from a smaller original

Hibiscus and flamingo temporary tattoo sheet

Botanical · Colour · Flash

The sheet shows a set of temporary tattoo designs, mostly hibiscus flowers in varying sizes, with a gold and a silver flamingo on the right. The flowers are simple silhouettes with little internal detail, and a few are arranged in vertical strips down the left side. The metallic gold, silver and navy designs are spaced across a pale background, and a partly visible script appears at the bottom left.

Botanical Hibiscus Flower Flamingo

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Mrs Olwen Pascoe had kept the hibiscus alive in the Winter Garden of the Marine Hotel for thirty-one years, which the new manager called sentimental and the head chef called a fire hazard. Every October she carried the three tubs in from the terrace, one at a time, because the frost came early off the Channel and the blooms would not survive a night outside. This year the orange one had not flowered at all.

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She found the flamingo in the bottom drawer of the reception desk, where lost property went to be forgotten. It was a pink plastic thing on a wire stand, cracked at one knee, left behind by a family from Leicester who had stayed a single wet week in August. Beside it, folded in tissue, were a dozen transfer sheets bought for the children's disco, gold and silver and navy, the flowers all the same flat shape. Nobody had thought to throw them out.

She sat on an upturned crate in the glasshouse with the sheets across her knee and peeled one hibiscus off its backing. A damp cloth, the warm press of a thumb, and it settled on the inside of her wrist as if it had always meant to be there. She laid another beside it, and another, until the patch looked like a branch in full bloom, though it would not last past the weekend. The orange tub stood at her elbow, green and stubborn.

On Monday the new manager found the gold flamingo standing in the orange tub, one leg lifted, and Mrs Pascoe at the desk with her sleeve rolled up, asking whether the Winter Garden could stay open through the frost. He said no. She said she had heard that before. He did not notice the hibiscus catching the light on her wrist, nor that the orange bloom had opened overnight, a single flower the colour of marmalade, right where the plastic bird had been.