Black script lettering reading Hope on the inner wrist, beside a silver bead bracelet, in a sepia-toned photo.

Hope script lettering on a wrist

Lettering · Forearm · Black and grey · Photo

A close photograph of a hand and wrist with the word Hope in flowing black script across the inner wrist. The lettering has a bold capital H with a looping flourish, and the strokes are solid black with slightly softer edges. The image is sepia-toned, with a silver bead bracelet on the wrist and a dark background filling the frame.

Lettering Forearm Hope Script word Bracelet

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A story inspired by this tattoo · fiction

Dear Marguerite, I am writing this at the kitchen table because the lamp in the parlour has gone to smoke again and your brother says he will not climb the ladder until the weather turns. The tin of pencils you left behind is still on the windowsill, and I have been sharpening them one by one, the way you used to when you were supposed to be doing your sums. Mrs Halloran from the bakery came by with a loaf and asked after you, and I told her you had gone to the coast for your chest. She looked at me over her spectacles the way she looks at a bad egg, but she took the loaf back home with her, which I count as a kindness.

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The letter from the Liverpool office arrived on Tuesday. They have taken on the two girls from Carrow Street, the ones who were laughing at the back of the sewing room, and they say there may be a place for you in the spring if your papers come through. I have put the envelope under the clock so that I see it every time I wind the thing. Do not let the rain at the station put you off the train. You always did sulk when things were wet.

I keep thinking about the bracelet you wore to Sunday service, the little silver beads that clicked against the pew whenever you lifted your hand to wave at me. Your father thought it was vanity. I thought it was a way of keeping your own time. Wear it on the crossing, Marguerite, and when the ship's bell rings, count the beads against your wrist until you reach the one that is bent. That is the one I pressed on the morning you left, and I meant every word I wrote under your name in the back of the Bible. Write when you land. Write even if it is only one word.

Your loving sister, Ada