King and queen skull hand tattoos

The rain has been coming sideways across Gallows Lane market since seven, and Mr Okonedo's awning has sprung a leak right over the box of old playing cards I was meant to sort. I've spent the morning fishing soggy tens out of the puddle under the trestle. Half the court cards have faded to pink ghosts, but the two I kept back, the King and Queen of Hearts from Mum's tin, are dry in my coat pocket, where I can feel their corners through the lining.

You'll laugh, but I finally understood what Dad meant about the skulls on the royals. He always said they looked like they'd been dead for years and were still playing cards with the living. I thought it was one of his jokes. This morning a girl came to the stall with a rucksack full of ledgers, asking if I'd sell her a pair for her boyfriend's birthday. She wanted the King and the Queen, skulls under crowns of tiny stars, a red heart beside each one and a letter to tell them apart. She said they were for the backs of their hands, one each, so they could hold hands and still have the cards showing.

I told her I'd keep them for her till Saturday, when the rain should have blown over and the light on the stall would be proper. Then I looked at the Queen again, the hair falling down the card in long grey strokes, and thought of Dad laughing at his own bad jokes until he had to sit down on the step.

Anyway, come Saturday I'll be here. Bring a brolly, and bring the good tea.

Love, Pen